happened’ – he returned to his desk and tried to distract himself with work.
When lunchtime came around, Mark popped out, having taken Diane’s letter from his briefcase and stuffed it into a trouser pocket. He read the contents over again at a crumb-covered table in a quiet back-street sandwich shop where no one knew him.
Diane’s words hadn’t got any better or less terrifying with time. As Mark’s eyes scanned the letter’s contents, the cheese-and-pickle sandwich he’d ordered lying untouched next to his can of cola, he felt his heart pounding at the prospect of what he might say if he managed to reach her by phone.
He didn’t have the slightest clue what Diane was up to, but he was desperate to know. He needed to discover whether she was definitely telling the truth in her letter and, if so, why she’d chosen to tell him now. Something specific must have sparked her recent actions – and Mark was determined to get to the bottom of it.
Meanwhile, he’d done as she’d asked. He’d looked at Mia to see if he could see himself in her. He’d scrutinised the girl, as surreptitiously as possible, over the last couple of days. He’d examined her physical appearance, from her eyes and smile right down to the shape of her feet. He’d considered the way she walked and talked; her gestures; the type of things she said and did; what made her laugh; what made her frown.
At certain moments, he’d thought he’d seen hints of himself or other family members, such as his mother. At other times, he’d become convinced these were mere projections and there was nothing concrete at all.
There was plenty of Diane, though. Over the years, particularly before the big falling-out, Mark had seen loads of old snaps of Diane and Hannah together as girls. Fourteen-year-old Mia could easily pass for their sister.
But could she pass for his child?
Could she really, truly be his daughter?
And if so, why had Diane lied to his face about it when he’d asked her previously?
His mind jumped back to one particular conversation. It had been in 2008 during those awful, raw days following the death of her and Hannah’s mother, Maggie, and before the disintegration of the sisters’ relationship. Little had he known at that point how much was about to change, and how drastically it would affect all of their lives.
The sisters had spent a couple of days at their parents’ home. They’d both wanted to be there to console and support their dad, who was so devastated he could barely function, and to start planning the funeral. To make things easier for them, Mark had agreed to move into Diane’s house, a small terraced property in Withington, to look after Mia while they were away. This was despite him being pretty clueless when it came to children.
Mia had recently turned three and had at least stopped wearing nappies during the daytime. With the help of a list of instructions left by her mum, detailing mealtimes, toilet habits and other daily routines, he’d just about managed, thankful she had a placid temperament for a young child.
However, unbeknown to Diane, there had been several phone calls to his mother, Alma, along the way. Having no grandchildren of her own, she’d been only too happy to give him tips and advice. She’d even offered to come over and lend a hand, but he’d said that wasn’t necessary.
That afternoon there had also been a minor incident in his car. He’d taken Mia out to the park and, while stuck in traffic on the way back, she’d announced she needed a wee ‘right now’.
‘You can wait a few minutes, can’t you?’ Mark had asked.
Her only reply had been to shake her head vigorously, turn bright red and do it there and then in her car seat before starting to cry.
Luckily, he’d managed to keep a cool head and, somehow, to juggle cleaning the car and putting Mia in the bath and then bed before Diane arrived home.
‘Thanks so much for looking after her,’ she said after popping up to give her a kiss goodnight. ‘She’s zonked. You must have kept her busy.’
‘I did my best. I’m pretty shattered too. Maybe I should text Hannah and ask her to run me a bath.’
Diane smiled. ‘She’s probably in there herself. It’s been a tough couple of days.’
‘I bet. How’s Frank managing?’
‘He’s not. He’s in a mess. Mum might have been ill for ages, but it’s like Dad never faced up to the fact this would happen one day. I mean, it’s not something you can really prepare yourself for, is it? But the way he’s acting, you’d think she’d been fighting fit and her death was a total shock. He’s all over the place. He’s even said things like there’s no point in him carrying on without her.’
‘How’s he going to cope now you and Hannah are no longer there with him? Do you think he’ll want to move back to Manchester?’
Frank and Maggie Wells had lived in the Altrincham area for most of their lives, where the sisters had grown up in a large Victorian family home in a leafy, well-heeled street. But two years ago, after both taking early retirement, they’d sold up and moved to a bungalow close to the sea in Southport. Although this had always been a shared dream of theirs, it had come as a surprise to the rest of the family, particularly in light of them recently becoming grandparents. However, soon after the move, they’d revealed the devastating news that Maggie had been diagnosed with stage four breast cancer; she’d effectively relocated there to die.
Mark knew how hard it had been for Hannah to watch her mother gradually fade away, slowly getting more frail and less like her old self; increasingly reliant on the various drugs she’d been prescribed. He assumed Diane’s experience had also been tough, although he knew Hannah thought her sister hadn’t been as supportive or visited as often as she had when Maggie had got closer to the end.
Ultimately, her death had been a release, for Maggie, but also for her family. As painful as it was to lose her, at least they no longer had to watch her suffer, losing a little more of herself every day. Now they could finally move on to grieve for the strong woman she’d once been, rather than the dying patient she’d become.
‘Dad will have to manage,’ Diane replied, ‘like the rest of us. As to whether he’ll stay there or not, that’s up to him. It’s way too early to talk about that yet. At least he seems to know plenty of people around there now. One of the neighbours, a woman called Joan, even brought him a lasagne over this afternoon.’
While they spoke about this and the funeral plans, Mark’s mind wandered. Spending so much one-to-one time with Mia over the past couple of days had affected him in ways he hadn’t predicted.
Despite usually feeling disconnected and indifferent towards children, Mark had been surprised to find he really enjoyed spending time with Mia. Okay, the weeing in the car hadn’t been much fun, but apart from that she’d been consistently cute. There hadn’t been the slightest hint of a toddler tantrum.
Little Mia, who was usually too busy with Hannah to notice him, had hung on his every word. She’d made him feel special in a way he hadn’t experienced before. At certain moments she’d unexpectedly planted a kiss on his cheek or climbed on his knee for a ‘huggle buggle’, as she called it, melting his heart.
Occasionally she’d pulled an exaggerated sad face and mentioned her late grandmother, clearly trying to process what Diane had told her before leaving. ‘Granny’s gone, Uncle Mark. I miss her,’ she’d
