Chapter Thirty-three
After Flynn had dropped Esme at nursery and Molly at the Waterwheel Café, he’d hardly been able to function at work, but he had managed to get the evening off from the illuminations to go round to their house that evening.
He’d borrowed some dehumidifiers to help dry the affected rooms out. Molly had cleaned out the cot and moved it to her own room. The plumber had been earlier to fix the leak and Flynn had booked someone to repair the damaged ceiling the following day.
Flynn had just finished replacing the circuit boards and was sweeping up dust and bits of wire when Molly rushed into the utility room, waving her phone.
‘Oh. My. God.’
‘What now?’ Flynn’s stomach lurched. She looked pale as a ghost. ‘Is everything OK?’
‘Yes. I mean. No.’ She let out a squeak. ‘I hope so. It’s here. The email’s here.’
Flynn broke out in a sweat. ‘You mean the DNA test results.’
‘Yes.’
He longed for and dreaded the result. If it was negative, Molly would be devastated and Flynn had no idea how he’d cope.
He’d been on such a rollercoaster over the past week that, if Molly wasn’t his, he would feel he’d lost her, even if having found her had lobbed a bombshell into his life and caused a rift with Lara.
He leaned the brush on the worktop, trying to sound calm. ‘You haven’t opened it, then?’
‘No. I thought we should do it together. I want it to be a yes. I really do.’
‘So do I,’ said Flynn, feeling a bit sick.
‘Let’s do it, then.’ Molly showed him her email inbox with the DNA test company’s message.
‘OK,’ Flynn said, clenching his trembling fingers by his side.
Molly opened it and, within seconds, she’d burst into tears.
Flynn put his arms around her and held her as she sobbed.
It was probably a good thing she couldn’t see the tears in his own eyes as he realised, without a shadow of a doubt, that he was holding his daughter.
He was filled with warmth and wonder and joy, and, at the same time, sadness at realising that he’d missed out on that for so many years.
‘It’s true,’ Molly said, leaning back and looking at him. ‘You are my dad.’
His throat was clogged, so he nodded before saying, ‘I knew from the moment you told me.’
‘But it’s good to be sure, or you might always have wondered.’
‘You’re very wise,’ he said, smiling, as Molly wiped her face with a tissue.
‘We should open champagne or something, but I don’t have any and you’re driving.’
‘We definitely need to celebrate,’ he said.
‘I’ve got ginger beer. Nan likes it.’
Flynn laughed. ‘Go on, then.’
Molly collected Esme from her playpen and Flynn had found the bottle and two glasses from the cupboard when lights swept up the driveway.
‘Oh my God. Nan’s back.’
Hearing these words, you would have thought Brenda was a Gorgon waiting to turn Flynn to stone. His pulse rose, his palms were sweaty, and he had the urgent desire to leap out of a window, jump on his bike, and head straight for the Far East as he’d once planned.
‘Oh. Right. OK …’
‘You look terrified,’ said Molly.
‘Should I be?’
Instead of laughing as he’d expected, Molly suddenly burst into tears again. ‘I thought I wouldn’t be, but now I am. Oh … shaving cream and fluffing hell! Argh. That’s what I have to say now Esme’s around. Fluffing, fluffing, fluffing hell!’
Under other circumstances, Flynn might have laughed: the sheer surrealness of the situation had struck him so many times since he’d first found out about Molly.
‘I don’t think I can’t do this! What will Nan say when she sees you here? Hold Esme while I find a tissue.’
Esme was bundled into his arms like a parcel while Molly dashed into the loo.
Flynn was left holding the baby in every way possible, and Molly’s comments about her nan hadn’t helped his own nerves either.
Molly dashed back into the sitting room with a bundle of loo roll just as Brenda’s key scraped the lock and the front door opened.
‘Hello! I’m home. What’s that damp smell? Bloody hell! What happened to the ceiling? Molly!’
Brenda entered the sitting room and stopped dead. Her mouth dropped open and she looked from Molly to Flynn and Esme as if they were ghosts.
‘Hello, Nan,’ Molly said. ‘This is Flynn. He’s my dad.’
Brenda sat on the sofa with Esme on her lap while Molly made her a mug of tea.
‘I don’t understand,’ she kept saying. ‘How come you’re working at the castle? Did you come to find us?’
‘No, Molly came to find me. She found out that I’d moved up here and decided she wanted to meet me. I appreciate it’s been a shock.’
‘A shock?’ She fanned herself. ‘I thought I was going to have a heart attack.’
‘You say that all the time, Nan, and you never do,’ Molly said, walking into the room with a tray.
‘It’s a wonder!’ Brenda declared.
‘Drink this. I put sugar in it. Yours too, and a drop of whisky in Nan’s,’ she said to Flynn, who’d perched on the chair. ‘Let me take Esme.’
Molly lifted the baby from her grandmother’s arms and put her on the playmat next to her baby gym.
‘It was a shock for me too,’ Flynn said, as calmly as he could. ‘As I’d no idea she even existed.’
‘No … I—’ Brenda stared at him then closed her eyes briefly. ‘I bet you hate us all, don’t you?’
‘I don’t hate anyone, Brenda. I must admit I’d rather have known about Molly, but it’s too late to go back now.’
‘I’ve said we’re sorry, Nan. I explained that Mum didn’t have any way of contacting Flynn and then, when she did, it was too late.’
Flynn begged to differ. It had never been too late. He felt a sharp tug in his gut and realised that it was loss. Increasingly, he’d begun to feel hurt and anger – but now wasn’t the time to give vent to feelings like that.
‘Now you’re here,’ Brenda muttered after sipping her tea, ‘I’d like to know what’s going to happen next.’
‘Well, I’ve made the electrics safe but you’re going to need the ceiling restoring and plastering.’
‘I didn’t mean the bloody ceiling! I meant, what’s going to happen with you?’ Brenda asked, leaning forward on the sofa and glaring at him.
‘Flynn’s not going to take us away from you, Nan, if that’s what you’re worried about. We only met each other less than two weeks ago.’
‘This has been going on for weeks? So you knew – that night at the illuminations?’ Brenda said, incredulously. ‘And you let me say those things about—’ She nodded in Flynn’s direction. ‘About him?’
Great, thought Flynn. Brenda couldn’t bring herself to utter his name.
‘I hadn’t told Flynn – Dad – then. I only went to see him for myself.’
Flynn swallowed a lump in his throat, hearing Molly call him Dad. Would he ever get used to it?
‘Oh, dear Lord,’ Brenda said, fanning herself again.
‘Mrs Carver,’ Flynn said, as calmly but firmly as he could muster, ‘Molly’s absolutely right. We all need time to adjust to this – situation.’
‘It’s Brenda. You can call me Brenda.’
‘OK, Brenda,’ he said firmly. ‘You can call me Flynn. It’s certainly preferable to “him”.’
Molly stifled a gasp that might have been due to him – or anyone – standing up to her nan.
‘Your mother will have to know about this.’ Brenda directed this at Molly. ‘I’ll have to tell her.’
‘No!’ Molly burst out, causing Esme to look up sharply. ‘I want to tell Mum. I’ve found Flynn and I ought to be the one to break it to her.’
Flynn felt that he also ought to have some say. And being referred to as being ‘found’ made him feel like a grime-covered artefact that had been discarded and unearthed centuries later. Christ, he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
‘God knows what she’ll say. I mean she hasn’t seen him since the day – the thing happened.’
Thanks, thought Flynn.
‘When’s Imogen actually coming home?’ Flynn cut in, trying not to be cross at hearing Brenda referring to the moment that had resulted in her granddaughter and great-granddaughter as ‘the thing’.
‘Not until after Christmas. That’s much too long away. I can’t lie to her about this. She’s my daughter …’ Brenda clutched Molly’s hand. ‘Love, you must understand that I can’t keep something this big from her. How would you like it if you were in my situation?’
Molly pulled a face and tears glistened in her eyes. ‘If it hadn’t been for the burst pipe, she wouldn’t need to know. You wouldn’t know.’
‘I think,’ Flynn dared, ‘that your nan would have had to find out sooner or later.’
‘And I’m glad I have! How long were you two planning on keeping this a secret from me?’
‘Don’t blame my dad,’ Molly said. ‘He didn’t ask to be found.’
‘But your mum will have to know about him. She has a right to.’
She pulled her hand out of Brenda’s. ‘Yeah, but she – and you – didn’t think he had a right to know about me!’
Flynn had now decided that he was spectator at a gladiatorial battle. Actually, no, he’d been thrown into the arena with the lions.
‘Hold on!’ he said, standing up. ‘I think this is a decision we all need to make together and it should be in Molly’s best interests. What’s best for her and Esme?’
Molly sniffed loudly and Brenda stayed silent for a few seconds before nodding. ‘He – Flynn – is right. It’s all about you two now.’
‘Why don’t you take a little while?’ Flynn offered, taking Brenda’s agreement to his proposal as a huge step forward.
‘At least sleep on it. Things might seem clearer in the morning.’ He didn’t really believe they would for a second but he needed to defuse the tension somehow and carve out some time to take it in himself.
Molly nodded. ‘Yeah. Maybe. I know we have to tell Mum, but I’d rather do it face to face.’
‘That’s not going to happen. You’ll have to do it over the phone.’
Please don’t ask me to join this particular call, Flynn pleaded silently.
‘I know.’ Molly looked at Esme, who was playing with Penguin, and her lip quivered.
Flynn knew why. Everything they did now must be in the little one’s best interests and arguing wasn’t going to help.
His own heart lurched with an emotion that he’d never felt before.
Still, he knew instantly it was the most terrifying emotion of all: unconditional love.
With it came the fear of the unthinkable: losing his daughter and granddaughter.
He hadn’t asked to be in this situation and every day brought a fresh challenge that he had no idea how to deal with. He had a family he never knew existed and had the joy of holding his granddaughter and being called ‘Dad’ – yet, in some ways, he’d never felt more alone in his entire life.