believe this!’
My knees gave way and I collapsed back onto my chair, throwing my head into my hands. ‘Why didn’t you tell me before? You’ve kept this from me my whole life; didn’t you think I had a right to know who I really am?’
Mum reached over and put a hand on top of mine. ‘You already know who you are; you’re Emily Louise Reed and, like your dad said, nothing’s going to change that. When I found out I was pregnant, I knew who’d be the best father to you and it certainly wasn’t some man who lived nearly two hundred miles away! It was this man sitting right here. I wanted to give you the best possible life I could and that meant cutting Derek out completely. He’d have been no good to you, sweetheart, believe me.’
I drew my hand away. ‘Dad’s been amazing and he’ll always be my real dad, but I still had a right to know about this Derek guy. It should’ve been up to me whether to include him in my life, instead of you making the decision for me.’
Mum stiffened and pursed her lips. ‘Everything you need to know about that man is in those letters. I may have told him it was best to stay away, but he chose to listen. He could’ve ignored all that and come to see you anyway, but he didn’t. He stayed in Luna Bay to protect the perfect life he had there. That’s all you need to know about him, Emily.’
I got up from my seat again and grabbed the box, shaking a few letters loose onto the dining table. ‘Well, why don’t you let me make my own mind up about that, eh? Just for a change.’
Before anything else could be said, I stormed out of the flat, taking my box of secrets with me.
*
Going through the letters wasn’t an easy task. As far as I could tell, Derek had written one every year on my birthday since I was born, then stopped suddenly a few years ago. By the time the sun rose over Glasgow, I’d read most of them and learnt a great deal about the man I now knew to be my biological father. Mum had been right; traces of him permeated each and every one. I knew he loved the village he lived in, played for the local cricket team and ran a café with his wife, Diane. Yet there was still so much I didn’t know, things that words on a page would never be able to tell me. So, for as much as I’d learnt about Derek Simpson, I still didn’t feel like I knew him at all.
I slumped into work ten minutes late, feeling like a zombie and clutching my cup of takeaway coffee for dear life. Frankie’s eyes widened with shock when she saw me collapse into my chair.
‘God, I knew Reed family dinners were eventful but this is something else! What happened? Did your dad break out the good champagne or something?’ She chuckled good-naturedly but stopped when she saw my scowl. ‘Or not…’
‘You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.’ I heaved a weary sigh and opened my emails to see if I had any leads to follow up that day. As I tried to look at the screen, the words on it swam in front of me. All I could think about was last night’s revelation.
Frankie swung her chair round to face me, her keen eyes burning into the side of my head. ‘Try me.’
I looked at her, wondering whether to unload my burden onto her. A problem shared was a problem halved, after all, but Frankie had a certain flair for the dramatic that didn’t help in some situations.
In the end, I caved. ‘Last night, my parents chose to tell me that my dad isn’t my biological dad.’
A curious mixture of expressions crossed my best friend’s face, ranging from shock to disbelief and finally settling on amusement. She let out a loud snort and burst into a fit of giggles.
‘It’s not bloody funny!’
‘Oh come on, Em! It can’t be true, can it? Your parents are the most solid and stable people I know, plus they’ve been together forever. No way is Simon Reed not your dad!’
I swallowed hard, trying not to let tears spill out. ‘Well, he isn’t. According to my mum, some bloke called Derek from Yorkshire’s my biological dad.’
Frankie’s giggly reverie stopped as soon as she saw my face. ‘Oh my God, you’re serious, aren’t you? Emily, I’m so sorry! I… I thought you were messing around.’
She rolled her chair over to mine and pulled me in for a comforting hug. I sank into her shoulder, not knowing what else to do except cry.
‘As if losing that promotion to Tara bloody Murray wasn’t enough; now I find out my dad isn’t really my dad!’ I sobbed, the words barely coherent.
The sound of Paul’s office door opening interrupted my sobbing. I craned my neck to see none other than Tara Murray sashaying out into the main office, blowing a cheeky kiss to our boss before heading back to her desk. On her way there, she stopped and turned to face me.
‘Emily, I meant to say I’m so sorry you didn’t get the promotion.’ Her head was cocked to one side, as if she was talking to a child instead of someone the same age as her. ‘Paul was just talking me through it all; you know, my additional responsibilities, how much travel there’s going to be and stuff like that. I feel awful that you didn’t get it, really I do.’
Her syrupy-sweet voice clashed dramatically with the smugness in her face. I could see right through her; she was basking in the glory of her new-found promotion and rubbing my face in it.
‘Oh, I’m sure you won’t lose too much sleep over it,’ I replied, my expression like curdled milk. ‘Anyway, I’m sure you’ve got loads of work to do, so don’t let me keep you.’
She flashed me a final smile, then walked back to her desk. She threw a look towards Paul’s office over her shoulder. It lingered just a little too long and the realisation hit me like a ten-ton truck.
‘Oh God, I’ve been so bloody stupid!’ I let out a hollow laugh and threw my head into my hands.
‘What do you mean?’ asked Frankie.
‘Ask yourself this: why would Paul promote someone with crap sales figures, who’s hardly generated any potential leads, and who clearly isn’t capable of doing the job? I thought her blowing him a kiss just then was strange, but did you see that look she just did? They’re obviously involved with each other! That’ll be why Tara got promoted over me.’
I let out a frustrated sigh and banged my fists on the desk. ‘It’s just one thing after another, isn’t it?’
Frankie rubbed my back. ‘Maybe you should take the rest of the day off? Go home and talk to your mum about this Derek bloke; you must have loads of questions to ask her.’
‘No,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘No, I’m staying here.’
I turned my full attention to the screen in front of me, losing myself in the work I had to do that day. Everything would be OK as long as I kept Mum’s revelation firmly shut out. If I didn’t think about it, it would slowly fade away.
*
Of course, it didn’t.
In fact, the more I tried not to think about Mum’s revelation, the more it occupied my mind. By lunchtime, it had permeated my every thought and even my questions had questions. I desperately craved answers, but had no idea where to turn for them. Every kernel of an idea ended up at a dead end;
