Chapter 2
JED
I smiled to myself as the taxi driver pulled away, leaving me standing on the pavement outside Mum and Dad’s house.
Fourteen years of living on the other side of the world and the conversations with UK cabbies hadn’t changed: Been busy?
What time did you start? When do you finish?
Plus the added seasonal one of, Are you working over New Year too?
No taxi journey was complete without those questions and the quality of the answers indicated whether or not a conversation was welcome.
The one-word grunted responses from my driver told me it wasn’t, but I gave him a generous tip anyway.
Lucy was sprawled out on the rug in the lounge with Arthur Christmas on the television at a low volume, her fingers flying across the keys on her phone.
‘Hi, Dad,’ she said, looking up and smiling while still typing. ‘Good night?’
‘Great night, but I think the food and drink got to us both. We crashed out on the sofa.’
‘I thought you might have stayed over.’
‘Bit too soon for sleepovers.’ I plonked myself down on the sofa. ‘But, if I did stay at Tara’s at some point, would you be okay with that?’
Lucy put her phone down and rolled over onto her side to face me, a cheeky grin on her face. ‘Are you asking my permission to have sex with your girlfriend?’
‘Lucy!’
She giggled as she shuffled into a sitting position, legs crossed. ‘Sorry, Dad, couldn’t resist that. I think Tara’s awesome so I’m rooting for you guys. Can’t say I liked Natalie, though.’
‘You only met her a couple of times,’ I said, surprised that Lucy had even mentioned her.
Natalie and I had had an on-off relationship a few years back, which lasted a couple of years.
Around the time we started dating, my ex-wife, Ingrid, and her new husband, Declan, welcomed twin girls – Piper and Savannah – to their family.
When Ingrid and I split up, Erin and Lucy had wanted to stay with me but Ingrid took them to live with her and Declan, begrudgingly agreeing to joint custody arrangements some time later.
The girls didn’t like Declan and kept asking to stay with me permanently, which was shot down in flames until shortly after the twins were born when Ingrid decided the house was getting overcrowded.
While the girls were delighted at finally getting their wish to live with me full time, they were both incredibly hurt by being pushed out of their mother’s life like that.
I’d described it to Tara as though Ingrid had adopted a two in, two out policy.
Keen to make up for Ingrid’s shortcomings, I’d given them as much of my time as possible, only inviting Natalie to the house when they were having a sleepover at a friend’s house or a rare evening with their mother.
‘Yeah, but it was enough time to suss her out,’ Lucy said. ‘Too into her looks. Not outdoorsy enough. Not right for you. And that whiny voice of hers?’
I couldn’t help but laugh as Lucy placed her hands over her ears and scrunched up her face. I hadn’t really thought about Natalie having a whiny voice but, now that Lucy had said it, I could hear it in my head and she wasn’t wrong.
‘I’m glad you like Tara,’ I said. ‘She’s pretty special.’
‘You mean you love her.’
Lucy had already called us out on it on Christmas Eve before I’d had a chance to say the words to Tara. I hadn’t denied it then and, as I’d since had the chance to say I love you to Tara in private, I wasn’t going to deny it now either.
‘I do,’ I admitted. ‘And I’ve told her that and she feels the same.’
Lucy’s eyes sparkled as she formed a love heart with her fingers. ‘Aw, Dad, that’s super cute. You both chose well which I’m stoked about because your first choice was seriously questionable.’
It was so hard not to laugh at that too.
‘Mind you, we wouldn’t be here if it hadn’t been for that lapse in judgement,’ she added.
‘Any update on what time you’re going to your grandma and grandad’s tomorrow?’
‘I’ve asked but got no answer. I think Mum’s still mardy that we didn’t see her today.’
Ingrid hadn’t told the girls that she was flying over from Sydney to spend Christmas with her parents until just before she left Australia and, in the same phone call, she’d demanded they spend Christmas Day with her.
Even though we’d been living with my parents since the summer, we’d all been looking forward to our first Christmas Day together after so many Christmases apart, so it wasn’t fair of Ingrid to demand the girls spend the day with her, especially with only a week’s notice.
The difficult part was that Ingrid’s dad, Billy, wasn’t in the best of health at the moment, about to start treatment for a cancer diagnosis.
I’d therefore said it was up to Erin and Lucy and I’d support whatever decision they made.
Mum and Dad had kindly offered to host Christmas Day on Boxing Day but the girls had unanimously decided to stick with their original plans and offered to spend Boxing Day with Ingrid instead.
It hadn’t gone down well, of course. I’d had her on the phone to me several times but I don’t know what she expected me to do when it was Erin and Lucy who’d made the decision.
She tried playing the sympathy card about her dad’s health but the girls had remained close to their maternal grandparents and had already spent a lot of time with them since returning to the UK in the summer.
We all knew full well that neither Billy nor Pam would ever put any pressure on them to change their plans so it was all coming from Ingrid.
‘You will at least try and play nicely tomorrow?’ I asked Lucy.
‘I’ll be on my best behaviour for Grandma and Grandad but if she says anything against you…’
‘You’ll take a deep breath and change the subject, won’t you?’
Lucy shrugged. ‘I can handle her. It’s Aaron I’m not so sure about.’
A wave of sadness swept through me at the mention of her half-brother and it took some effort to keep my voice light. ‘Have you heard from him?’
‘No, and neither has Erin.’
‘He’ll definitely be there tomorrow?’
‘Presumably. It’s not like he’s got anywhere else to go.’ Lucy shrugged once more and rose to her feet. ‘Better get that early night.’
‘Early? It’s gone one o’clock.’
‘And that’s early for me.’ She leaned forward to give me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. ‘Night, Dad, and happy Christmas.’
‘Happy Christmas, sweetheart.’
Lucy had left Arthur Christmas playing so I tracked down the remote control between the sofa cushions, switched it off and placed the remote on the TV cabinet.
Getting ready for bed, a mix of emotions swirled round inside me.
I was back in Whitsborough Bay – a place I’d never wanted to leave in the first place – and my girls were happy and settled.
Yorkshire’s Best had enjoyed a fantastic first month of trading – way better than expected – and I was head over heels in love with Tara and could see a great future for us together.
I should be on top of the world right now but the feelings of elation were dampened by an undercurrent of sadness.
What had Ingrid been thinking, bringing Aaron to Whitsborough Bay without telling anyone?
Had she really thought there’d be no repercussions?
He’d gate-crashed my dad’s birthday meal just over a week ago and what a shock it had been to see him again – the boy I’d raised for six years, the boy I’d believed was my son, the boy who’d been taken away from me.
Aaron, now twelve, had only been six years old when he suddenly fell seriously ill.
I’d rushed him to hospital, terrified we were going to lose him.
He needed blood so of course I was first in line to donate and I’ll never forget that feeling of shock and disbelief at the doctor’s words – unfortunately you’re not a match, but with you not being the biological father, it was a long shot – or how the colour drained from her face when she realised the double blow that she’d just delivered.
It made no sense to me. How could I not be his father?
There had to be some mistake. But there wasn’t.
I’d expected Ingrid to apologise, to spin me a story of one misguided evening that should never have happened before begging for my forgiveness.
Instead, she’d looked relieved, openly admitting that she’d known all along that Aaron couldn’t possibly be mine.
And then came the further shock that my son’s biological father was Ingrid’s ex-boyfriend, Declan.
I knew he’d emigrated to Australia with his parents and younger brother as soon as he’d finished senior school, age sixteen, and that the move had been the cause of his relationship with Ingrid – also sixteen at the time – ending.
What I hadn’t known was that they’d stayed in touch, she was still deeply in love with him, and that he was the real reason she’d dragged me and the girls to the other side of the world.
And with that revelation, the bottom completely dropped out of my world and I lost my wife and my son in one fell swoop.
Aaron thankfully made a full recovery and, as soon as he had his strength back, he returned to school but he never returned to our family home.
Declan hadn’t known he was Aaron’s biological father.
He’d always vehemently declared that he never wanted to get married or have children so Ingrid had kept him in the dark, fearing he might end their affair if he knew but, when she told him the truth, he morphed into the doting father overnight, insisting that Ingrid, Aaron and the girls move in with him.
The man who had never wanted a family of his own had stolen mine, breaking my heart into a million pieces.
I still saw Erin and Lucy regularly, of course, but Declan refused to let me see Aaron.
I fought him but none of the many consultations I had with solicitors were going to change the fact that I had no legal right to access.
When Declan threatened legal action of his own if I came near Aaron, I had to reluctantly accept that it was a battle I wasn’t going to win and keep focusing on my girls.
I still loved Aaron – of course I did. Even though we had no shared genes, nothing had changed in my eyes.
I still considered him my son and desperately wanted him in my life, but that wasn’t my choice to make.
Over the years, I’d thought about him constantly, wondered how he was getting on at school, what his hobbies and interests were, what he looked like.
His birthday was hard, as was Christmas, and I was acutely aware of his last day at primary school and his first at senior school, devastated that I wasn’t part of those key moments.
There was a constant ache inside me, as though a part of me was missing.
I’m not sure how I’d have got through it if it hadn’t been for my amazing daughters, my incredibly supportive parents and being able to lose myself in my art.
I hadn’t been aware of Aaron recently making contact with Erin and Lucy and the pair of them had believed that Ingrid was coming to Whitsborough Bay on her own, so we’d all been stunned to see Aaron standing in the restaurant, accusing us of being fake as we raised a toast to family!
And then came the sharpest words – I know you ditched me as soon as you found out I wasn’t yours – before he fled.
If Aaron had been familiar with the area, I probably wouldn’t have caught up with him but he’d got lost and, when he practically ran into me, the attitude and bravado from the restaurant were gone, replaced by fear and vulnerability.
I recognised the young boy in the pre-teen before me and a rush of memories engulfed me – him peeping out from beneath the duvet during a storm, his eyes brimming with tears as I cleaned up scraped knees, his laughter as I read him bedtime stories with daft voices and accents for each character – and I had to struggle through my emotions to take control of the situation and stop him from taking off again.
When they took Aaron away from me, I’d repeatedly asked Ingrid what she’d said to him to explain my absence but she’d refused to enter into any sort of discussion, telling me it was none of my business anymore.
Where would she even start with that conversation?
You know the man you call ‘Daddy’. Well, I lied to you and to him.
Your real daddy’s a complete stranger to you and now you’re going to live with him and you’re not going to see the man you thought was your daddy ever again.
During my many imaginings of how Ingrid might approach it, I’d never once considered that she’d feed Aaron a pack of lies but it seemed she had.
The conversation in the street with Aaron was brief and devastating.
He told me that Ingrid had claimed to have been as surprised as me by the discovery that he wasn’t my biological son and that, when I found out, I’d refused to have anything more to do with him.
It couldn’t have been further from the truth.
Who’d say something like that to a six-year-old?
Had she ever stopped to think of the damage it could do to a young child to hear something like that?
To be rejected in that way? Especially when it wasn’t true.
Why couldn’t Ingrid and Declan have been honest with him from the outset?
But honesty wasn’t Ingrid’s strong suit and she didn’t seem to care who she hurt as long as things worked out how she wanted.
Would I get a chance to tell Aaron the truth while he was here?
I wanted him to know how devastated I’d been when I found out he wasn’t biologically my son but that it hadn’t changed my feelings towards him.
I couldn’t bear the thought of him thinking that I’d rejected him like that when really I’d fought so hard for him that it broke me.
And now that he was living in the same town as me – albeit only for the Christmas break – there was a very real danger that I might break all over again because all those feelings I’d tried to bury were right at the surface.
I missed him with all my heart. I wanted my son back.