Chapter 19 #2
‘Dayna, sweetheart, what’s wrong?’ I let her pull me into her chest and I rest my head on her shoulder, breathing in the coconut scent of her short black hair that I recognise so well. I cling to the back of her blouse.
‘Dayna?’
I look up to see Arthur stepping out of the lounge, in chinos and a lounge jumper, looking every year of his age. There must be a thousand things I could say, but when I pull back from Evelyn and look at my father’s best friend, there’s only one thing that comes to mind.
‘Did you know he had an affair?’
He needs no more explanation. It registers on his face. I look at Evelyn and realise that she knows too.
‘Everyone knew except me, right?’
‘Evelyn, would you please make us tea?’ Arthur asks, touching his wife’s shoulder affectionately.
She squeezes my hand, and her lips curve in sympathy I don’t want before she walks down the long corridor to the kitchen.
‘Come on,’ Arthur says, gesturing to the lounge.
I go with him and take a seat on the sofa, turning my head around the old-fashioned decor I’ve seen so often but that looks different somehow. The brass poker by the open fire doesn’t seem to shine. The patterned carpet looks worn. The picture frames look dated.
One picture in the bay window catches my attention. I walk over and pick it up, staring at my father and Arthur, and I ask him again, ‘Did you know?’
‘I knew.’ He sits into his high-back chair and crosses his legs.
‘I didn’t bid,’ I tell him.
He looks relieved. ‘I think that was a sensible decision.’
I set the picture back down and stare out at the front lawn where Teddy and I used to play. Where I spent so many happy hours when my father brought me to visit. ‘That’s not why. I didn’t bid, because my father isn’t the man I thought he was.’
Evelyn brings in tea and biscuits, before heading out of the room again.
‘He had an affair, Dayna. I know how much that must disappoint you?—’
‘Don’t you dare defend him.’ I walk to stand in front of the fire, welcoming the warmth that seeps into my cold bones as I stare him down.
‘Sit down,’ he says authoritatively, as if I’m still the little girl who played hopscotch with his son.
I do as he tells me, taking a cup of tea from the coffee table and wrapping my hands around it.
‘He lied to me all my life. He knew I hated my mum. He knew I thought it was her who had an affair, and he never admitted it. Not once. Never even suggested she was right to leave. How could he do that? How could he let me think so badly of her?’ I find myself sniffing even though I have no tears left to shed.
‘Dayna, look at you. It’s not worth all this. It’s not worth being this distraught.’
‘How can you say that?’
He sighs, his eyes heavy. ‘People make mistakes. That’s life. People have made bigger mistakes than your dad. You know him. He loved you.’
‘He lied to me. All those years.’ I think of Clark. He didn’t want to lie to me. That’s why he told me. I shake him out of my head. ‘Arthur, did you know how much Harold Layton hated my dad?’
He sits up straighter and swallows deeply. ‘He was hurt and his pride was dented.’
There’s something about the way he sits, the way he looks at me, that troubles me.
‘How did you find out about the affair?’ he asks.
I watch him shuffle awkwardly in his seat. ‘Clark told me. And it’s not the only thing he told me.’ I stare into my cup, trying to find my next words. ‘The explosion. It wasn’t just Caspar. It was Harold, too.’
I wait for a reaction, but it doesn’t come. And there’s only one possible explanation for why.
My jaw drops open. ‘You knew.’
He reaches for his cup from the table and sits back, taking a sip. ‘I knew.’
I shake my head. ‘H-how? How could you know? Why didn’t you tell me? When did you find out?’ I stand again, pacing the floor. ‘You knew and you didn’t tell me? Why?’
‘Dayna, I knew, and your dad knew.’
My head pounds with confusion. ‘Why have you let me think it was Caspar?’
‘It was Caspar. And there was no proof, Dayna, you know that. We’ve been over this so many times. There was no point in you knowing. There was nothing you could do to change things. If Caspar hadn’t been so proud of himself, you might never have known about his part in it either.’
I hold my hands across my mouth, staring at a man I’ve considered a friend, a father figure. A man I don’t know at all. ‘You wouldn’t have told me?’
‘What would have been the benefit? So you could live your life with the amount of hate you feel now?’
‘No, so that I didn’t think it was my father, Arthur! Everyone said he cut costs, that he got what was coming to him with that explosion. And— Wait, if he knew it was Caspar and Harold, why did he…? I always thought he couldn’t stand that his mistakes killed those people. If he knew the truth…’
‘Sometimes, we’re better off not knowing something that could hurt us.’ His words are quietly spoken. He stands, moving close to me.
‘No. I think what hurts the most is that I’ve been lied to for so long.’ If someone stabbed me in the stomach and twisted the knife, it would hurt less than this. ‘My dad. My own father lied to me. You have been lying to me.’
He reaches out for my shoulders, and I take a step back. ‘Dayna, you’re upset.’
‘Of course I’m fucking upset, Arthur! I’m wondering whether my dad ever loved me.’
‘That’s ridiculous. He loved you more than life itself.’
‘That’s bullshit! He killed himself. He left me, and I thought I understood it, but it was all a lie. If he could lie to me for so long, he couldn’t have loved me.’
‘Is that how you define how much a person cares about you?’
I didn’t think I had anything left, but salt water streaks my cheeks. ‘Why? Why would he kill himself if he loved me?’
‘Don’t doubt how much he adored you. You meant everything to him, Dayna. You were his world but he killed himself because his heart was broken. He felt betrayed. The worst betrayal.’ Arthur’s eyes glaze. ‘I love you like my own,’ he croaks, and a sob escapes his lips. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Arthur?’
‘He wasn’t always nice, Dayna. He was my best friend, but he could be wicked. He drank too much.’
‘What are you trying to say? Say it. Say it now.’
‘I wanted to retire, but I couldn’t, I had responsibilities. I didn’t know what they were going to do.’
‘Who?’ I start backing away from him, slowly making for the door. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘I gave them the blueprints of the rig, Dayna. I’m sorry. So sorry. I can never forgive myself.’
I’m sobbing, my shoulders shaking. ‘Did he know? Did my dad know?’
‘It ate me up. I couldn’t stand that he thought he was to blame. He was like a brother to me. I told him everything.’
I cover my face with my hands. ‘It was your betrayal. That’s why he killed himself.’
Arthur falls to his knees and reaches out his hands towards me. The room spins around me and I squeeze my eyes shut.
‘Arthur!’ Evelyn reappears and runs to his side, but he bats her away.
‘He went back for you. He went back on the rig to save your life.’
‘I know. Please believe I’m sorry, Dayna. Know that I’ll never forgive myself for what I did.’
I run from the house, from the man I’ve always trusted with my life, because I don’t know what else to do. I climb into my car and skid away, not thinking or seeing straight. I drive to anywhere, nowhere, because I have nowhere to go.
I’m alone.
* * *
I don’t consciously drive here, but I find myself parked at the edge of the cemetery, looking through the tall, black iron gates. He didn’t deserve it. No one on that rig deserved to suffer the explosion. Yet I’m sitting here wondering whether my father brought it all on himself, on all of us.
I rest my chin on the steering wheel, staring at the trees swaying in the wind. The sky is dark and starless, just grey-black. Clouds move slowly above the headstones, the souls laid to rest.
‘Can you rest now, Dad?’
His best friend betrayed him. He left me. He deceived people: me, my mum. He let me push away and grow to despise my own mum.
‘How could you do that to us?’
How must she have felt? He cheated on her, his wife, the mother of his only child.
I pull my jumper sleeve down over my cold hand and wipe my nose.
Is this how Clark feels, too? Does he feel worse, knowing Harold Layton is an evil, murderous bastard?
Clark’s family took everything from me. I can’t defend the part of my father I didn’t know, but his act could never justify murder. It could never pardon Arthur’s deception.
Hatred burns through my veins with each breath I take.
In this moment, I despise my father.
I abhor Arthur.
And I want to see the Laytons burn in hell with Caspar Kahn.
‘I can’t see you,’ I whisper, hoping the wind will carry my words to my father’s grave.
I shift the car into reverse and pull back onto the main road, this time knowing exactly where I’m going.
My tyres crunch on the gravel as I drive up to my mum’s house.
Pulling my sleeves over my hands, I walk the path I rarely take, wondering if the breakdown of our relationship has been entirely my fault. I consider the handle of the door then knock.
The shock on my stepsister’s face when she answers makes me feel guilty and confirms that I look like hell all at once.
‘Hi Anna. Is Mum home?’
‘Ah, yeah, sure. Come in. You don’t have to knock, Dayna.’
The house is warm, a stark contrast to my body, and makes me shiver. I stand in the lamp-lit hallway, not knowing what to do or how to behave.
‘We’re in the kitchen,’ Anna says, leading me along the wood floor towards the smell of something delicious, homey. My stomach churns, and I can’t tell if it’s because I haven’t eaten all day or if it’s because I’m about to come face to face with the past.
‘Mum, Pops, Dayna’s here.’
Chantelle, the housemaid, is plating up dinner. My mum is pouring red wine into three glasses and almost drops the bottle when she sees me – a ghost of a dark and twisted past.
‘Hi,’ I say, trying a smile, not sure if I manage.
We stand in awkward silence until Richard clears his throat and says, ‘Dayna, we’re just about to eat. Would you join us?’