He gave a short, almost cynical laugh. ‘“Complex” sort of covers it.’
‘But you see him? You’re still in touch?’
‘Hardly. We haven’t been close since Mum died. He was a teacher at Brighton College, physics and chemistry. Now retired. He – well, from what Mum said, Dad didn’t particularly want me. It was Mum who pushed for the adoption, apparently. Dad’s just not a child person, not at all, even though he taught children.’ He shrugged. ‘And I was rubbish at science.’
He joked, but Annie could hear the hurt. Was he looking for a replacement father in Charles, she wondered. Because unless some Damascene conversion had taken place inCarnegie’s life – which was highly unlikely, because he’d have been too stupid to recognise it – the man would make a dismal excuse for a father. She wished she could protect Daniel from finding this out.
‘Me too! I was rubbish at most things at school.’ She paused, fiddling with a rough bit of skin on her thumb as she mustered her courage.
‘Daniel … it means so much to me … you finding me. All these years, I never stopped thinking of you. You were always there, in the back of my mind. I was desperate to know what your adoptive parents were like, whether they were looking after you properly, loving you … as much as I would have done.’ She paused, making a huge effort to stem the incipient tears. The relief that the wondering was over for her was tempered by renewed shame that she had given him away in the first place, making her suddenly hot and uncomfortable. ‘It was so hard, thinking you were out there somewhere, and that I had given up the right to know you. Every birthday I thought of what I might have bought you, I calculated how you might have grown, wondered what you were good at, at school. I’m so sorry.’ Her vision blurred with tears.
Daniel cleared his throat. ‘Please … it’s just great that we’ve met at last.’
She let out a long, slow breath. ‘I was young. I didn’t realise the implications at the time … how much I would regret what I did. But at the time I felt I had no choice.
My mother was horrified, she refused to support me … And I was so unworldly.’
Daniel didn’t reply at first. His head was turned towards the fire and she had no idea what he was thinking. Should she tell him the details of his adoption now, or wait until he asked? she wondered.
‘I can’t imagine what it was like for you,’ he said, finally looking across at her.
There was an awkward silence.
‘There’s so much I want to tell you, if we can keep in touch?’ Her question was tentative. She heard Richard’s words ringing in her ears: no connection beyond their DNA.
‘I’d like that, if you’re up for it.’
‘I could bring the albums next time. You must want to put faces to some of your ancestors.’
‘That’d be great.’
As they got up to leave the room, Daniel stopped her, laying his hand lightly on her arm.
‘One thing I haven’t asked –’ he frowned slightly ‘– along with a thousand other things of course.’
She waited.
‘I wondered … do you have a family?’
She tried to look him in the eye, but failed. In that moment, her lovely life with her husband and three other children seemed the ultimate betrayal.
‘Yes … yes, I have a husband, Richard, and three children. A son and two daughters.’
Daniel nodded slowly.
‘Do they know about me?’
‘Richard knows. But there never seemed a good time to tell the others. I should have. And of course I will now. I hope you’ll meet them.’
‘Big secret. But then I guess everything’s easy with hindsight,’ Daniel replied, his voice hardly more than a whisper.
It was getting dark by the time Annie and Jamie began the journey home. They waved a final time to Marjory’s upright figure standing in the doorway, backlit by the light from the small chandelier in the hall.
‘I hate leaving her alone in that huge house,’ Annie said, as the
‘But you see him? You’re still in touch?’
‘Hardly. We haven’t been close since Mum died. He was a teacher at Brighton College, physics and chemistry. Now retired. He – well, from what Mum said, Dad didn’t particularly want me. It was Mum who pushed for the adoption, apparently. Dad’s just not a child person, not at all, even though he taught children.’ He shrugged. ‘And I was rubbish at science.’
He joked, but Annie could hear the hurt. Was he looking for a replacement father in Charles, she wondered. Because unless some Damascene conversion had taken place inCarnegie’s life – which was highly unlikely, because he’d have been too stupid to recognise it – the man would make a dismal excuse for a father. She wished she could protect Daniel from finding this out.
‘Me too! I was rubbish at most things at school.’ She paused, fiddling with a rough bit of skin on her thumb as she mustered her courage.
‘Daniel … it means so much to me … you finding me. All these years, I never stopped thinking of you. You were always there, in the back of my mind. I was desperate to know what your adoptive parents were like, whether they were looking after you properly, loving you … as much as I would have done.’ She paused, making a huge effort to stem the incipient tears. The relief that the wondering was over for her was tempered by renewed shame that she had given him away in the first place, making her suddenly hot and uncomfortable. ‘It was so hard, thinking you were out there somewhere, and that I had given up the right to know you. Every birthday I thought of what I might have bought you, I calculated how you might have grown, wondered what you were good at, at school. I’m so sorry.’ Her vision blurred with tears.
Daniel cleared his throat. ‘Please … it’s just great that we’ve met at last.’
She let out a long, slow breath. ‘I was young. I didn’t realise the implications at the time … how much I would regret what I did. But at the time I felt I had no choice.
My mother was horrified, she refused to support me … And I was so unworldly.’
Daniel didn’t reply at first. His head was turned towards the fire and she had no idea what he was thinking. Should she tell him the details of his adoption now, or wait until he asked? she wondered.
‘I can’t imagine what it was like for you,’ he said, finally looking across at her.
There was an awkward silence.
‘There’s so much I want to tell you, if we can keep in touch?’ Her question was tentative. She heard Richard’s words ringing in her ears: no connection beyond their DNA.
‘I’d like that, if you’re up for it.’
‘I could bring the albums next time. You must want to put faces to some of your ancestors.’
‘That’d be great.’
As they got up to leave the room, Daniel stopped her, laying his hand lightly on her arm.
‘One thing I haven’t asked –’ he frowned slightly ‘– along with a thousand other things of course.’
She waited.
‘I wondered … do you have a family?’
She tried to look him in the eye, but failed. In that moment, her lovely life with her husband and three other children seemed the ultimate betrayal.
‘Yes … yes, I have a husband, Richard, and three children. A son and two daughters.’
Daniel nodded slowly.
‘Do they know about me?’
‘Richard knows. But there never seemed a good time to tell the others. I should have. And of course I will now. I hope you’ll meet them.’
‘Big secret. But then I guess everything’s easy with hindsight,’ Daniel replied, his voice hardly more than a whisper.
It was getting dark by the time Annie and Jamie began the journey home. They waved a final time to Marjory’s upright figure standing in the doorway, backlit by the light from the small chandelier in the hall.
‘I hate leaving her alone in that huge house,’ Annie said, as the
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