he’d replied, overwhelmed. ‘That’s nice of you to say. I, um … I love you too.’
And even though he’d only said so because she’d said it first, there had been a certain truth in his words that had got Mark thinking.
It was this he was still mulling over as he and Diane spoke in the kitchen later. He felt a fondness for Mia unlike anything he’d experienced towards a child before; he wondered if it might in fact be something biological.
Despite falling pregnant alarmingly soon after that awful night – the one Mark wished he could banish from his memory forever – Diane had always fervently denied any chance of his being Mia’s father. Of course he’d asked her. As much as it pained him to dig up what had happened between them and despite having no desire to be a dad, Mark wasn’t the kind of person to bury his head in the sand. He was a man who faced up to his responsibilities. Ironically, this had been ingrained in Mark by the same tragedy from his past that had shaped his desire not to be a father, having been badly let down as a child by someone who should have watched over him.
But Diane had always seemed so dismissive, like it was a ridiculous suggestion. Eventually, he’d accepted it and moved on. The fact it was easier this way had been an added bonus.
And yet, as far as he knew, Diane had never told anyone the father’s identity, not even Hannah or their parents, which was weird. She’d not been in a relationship around that time – not publicly anyway – and had taken the stance that it was no one’s business but hers.
‘Would you like a drink before you head off?’ Diane asked, having described to Mark the type of coffin they’d agreed on for Maggie’s funeral. ‘I’ve got plenty of wine and beer,’ she added, gesturing towards the fridge, ‘unless you’ve drunk it all while you’ve been here.’
Normally he’d have said no and headed home. He usually avoided being alone with Diane at all costs, in light of their chequered past. But he needed to address his thoughts about Mia.
‘Go on then,’ he replied. ‘I’ll have a quick beer. And don’t worry: there’s plenty left. I’ve not had a drop while I’ve been responsible for Mia.’
Diane raised an eyebrow. ‘Great.’ She walked over to the fridge and pulled out two bottles of Grolsch.
Mark fought to keep his breathing steady.
As his sister-in-law opened a kitchen drawer and pulled out a bottle opener, he noticed she was wearing a green top very like one his wife had.
‘You and Hannah must have similar taste,’ he said, making small talk in a bid to calm himself down.
‘Oh?’ she replied, turning around and pouting in a way that made him uncomfortable. ‘How so?’
Mark cleared his throat, wishing he’d chosen his words more carefully. ‘I, er, just mean what you’re wearing. That, um, top. I think she might have the same one.’
Diane laughed. ‘Oh, okay, I get you. Well spotted. She does have exactly the same top – this one, in fact. I borrowed it from her this morning. Nice, isn’t it?’
Mark managed an awkward laugh, shuffling his feet on the tiled kitchen floor.
‘So you managed all right with Mia?’ Diane asked after they’d moved through into the small lounge. ‘Everything seems in good order. Hannah and I were surprised not to get more phone calls from you.’
‘Yes, we muddled through. The instructions you left were a big help.’ He paused before adding: ‘She’s a lovely little girl.’
Mark’s mind skipped into overdrive. He asked himself repeatedly why exactly he thought Mia might be his child, apart from the obvious fact that he and her mother had slept together soon before Diane fell pregnant.
Did he see himself in her? God, that was a hard question to answer. She had green eyes, like he did, but a lighter shade. They were piercing in a way that reminded him more of the pale blue eyes that Hannah and Diane shared. Her hair was dark brown, like his. But that was also her mother’s natural colour and Mia’s hair was straighter than either of theirs. Just like some other man’s hair, perhaps.
As for the rest … who could say?
Maybe he was being stupid, delusional. Could spending time with only a three-year-old for company mess with your mind? Plus there was the fact that Diane had just lost her mother, which probably made this an inappropriate moment to raise such a sensitive issue. He was tempted not to say anything after all.
Then he remembered how it had felt to hear Mia say she loved him; to hold her cool little hand in his while walking through the park that afternoon. There was definitely a connection between the two of them. He felt it in his gut – and he had to know the truth. So he grabbed the bull by the horns.
‘Listen, Diane. I need to ask you something about Mia. I’ve really enjoyed spending time with her. More than I ever imagined. I know you’ve said otherwise in the past, but … she’s mine, isn’t she? I know she is. I can feel it. Please tell me the truth.’
Diane stared at him for a long moment, poker-faced. She slowly began to nod her head and then, in a voice that sounded so calm it was almost menacing, she said: ‘Well, this is a surprise. Your timing is lousy, but fine, I get it. I’ll tell you the truth if that’s what you really want, Mark.’
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