Chapter Forty-Four
‘What are you talking about?’ Lisa spluttered. ‘Tilly doesn’t have kids.’
‘I’m her son,’ the man repeated.
‘You really are a sicko.’ Lisa rounded on him furiously. ‘My friend has never had children. She was unable to. Dooo… yooo… understand?’ she enunciated. ‘Ah, yes! I see I now have your full attention.’ She gave the man a satisfied smirk. ‘It is impossible for you to be related to Tilly, because she is infertile. Always has been.’
‘Actually,’ I croaked. ‘That’s not completely true.’
‘W-Wha–?’ Now it was Lisa’s turn to look gobsmacked. ‘Don’t be absurd,’ she hissed. ‘All those years of trying for a child with Robin. Or did you make that up?’
‘No,’ I shook my head. ‘That much is true. I couldn’t seem to fall pregnant. But there was another time…’
I trailed off. Gulped hard. Tears were now spurting out of my eyes, like an ill-fitting hosepipe attached to a leaking outdoor tap.
Candice, another member of staff, stepped forward.
‘Excuse me,’ she interrupted. ‘There’s obviously some deeply personal and highly emotive stuff going on here. Tilly, why don’t you and this gentleman go into Leslie’s office? He’s not due back for a while. You can both chat in private.’
‘Well excuse me ,’ said Lisa officiously. ‘Nobody is talking to Tilly without me being present.’ She rounded on the hapless man again. ‘We only have your word about this and I, for one, am not convinced. So, if you don’t mind’ – she stepped aside to let the man pass – ‘get yourself in there.’ She jerked her head in the direction of Leslie’s office. ‘Yes, that’s the one. Go in. I will be personally interrogating you.’ Lisa was now in full Detective Inspector mode. ‘Come on, Tilly.’ She took me by the arm and frogmarched me into Leslie’s office. She paused to address Candice and the rest of the staff. ‘That’s it, folks. Floorshow over.’ She shut the door in their astonished faces, then propelled me over to Leslie’s chair. ‘Sit.’
I didn’t so much sit as crumple. Omigod. Omigod . My heart was banging like an Olympic sprinter. I was starting to feel horribly sick and out of sorts. Lisa and the guy sat down on two client chairs placed on the other side of Leslie’s desk.
‘Look,’ said the man. He leant forward in his chair. Put his elbows on Leslie’s desk. Steepled his fingers together. ‘I’m so sorry if this has come as a shock.’
‘Just a bit,’ I croaked. My vocal chords had shrivelled up.
‘Shall we start at the beginning?’ he suggested.
I nodded weakly.
‘Please can you tell me your story first?’ I whispered.
He gave the ghost of a smile.
‘That’s probably a good idea, although I will want to hear your story too.’
‘Of course,’ I said meekly.
‘You’re not the only one,’ Lisa muttered, shooting me a look. One that said I can’t believe what’s going on here – and why did you never confide in me? ‘But first’ – she stood up – ‘I think we all need a stiff drink.’
Lisa went to Leslie’s drinks cabinet. It was reserved for special clients and bigwigs higher up the management chain. She was momentarily distracted by a piece of paper wedged between some bottles. A note of some sort. She read it, then pushed it back into place before pouring us all a pick-me-up. Seconds later, the three of us were nursing a brandy apiece.
‘Right,’ she said, flopping down in her seat. ‘Do tell. Tilly and I are all ears.’
It struck me that my bestie – along with all my work colleagues – had discovered my deepest, darkest secret. It was something I’d never shared with anyone. Not even my ex-husband.
A part of me wondered whether I wanted Lisa in this room, as the past caught up with me. But then I realised the past already had caught up with me, and in the most public way. Indeed, the past was sitting opposite my trembling body, looking at me across Leslie’s leather-topped desk. It made no difference whether Lisa stayed or not. She knew. Everyone knew. My secret was out. This man was my son.
I stared at him. His face was drawing me like a magnet. I was incapable of dragging my eyes from him. My God he was beautiful. He really was. And I didn’t even know his name. As if reading my mind, he told me.
‘I’m Jake.’
‘Jake,’ I repeated. I said it with awe. Reverence. As if he’d just said I’m Jesus .
‘Did you give me that name?’ he asked.
I shook my head. Tears were once again streaming down my face, although I wasn’t crying. It more like… my body releasing. I knew there were going to be many more tears. Possibly enough to fill a paddling pool.
‘It’s a great name,’ I whispered. ‘Please, Jake. Carry on.’
‘I always knew I was adopted,’ he said quietly. ‘It was never a secret. My mum’ – he shot me a look of apology, one that said I wasn’t yet privy to that label – ‘well, she told me from the start. She and my dad were waiting to receive me before I was even born.’
I swallowed hard as Lisa shot me another questioning look. One that said people were waiting to take your baby before you’d given birth? I ignored her. No one would understand. No one, unless they were me. My focus remained on this man. Jake. My son. And I was sucking up every single word coming out of his mouth, like a parched marathon runner necking water.
‘I never had any issue about my mum and dad not being my biological parents,’ he continued. ‘They told me I was their son. And that was that. I even looked a bit like my dad.’ Jake gave a half laugh. ‘People said I also had his mannerisms.’ He shrugged. ‘Learned behaviour, I guess. Even so, I grew up completely untroubled by the word adopted . It just didn’t register on my radar.’
A part of me was relieved to hear him say this. Another part of me felt destroyed.
‘My parents were wonderful,’ he carried on. ‘Strict when they needed to be, but also very loving. They were the best,’ he said simply.
My heart squeezed at those words. What I would have given to be told I was the best.
‘I never wanted for anything,’ said Jake. ‘Mum and Dad both worked hard, and we all enjoyed the benefits of their earnings. We had terrific holidays. Cornwall was a firm favourite. Sometimes we went abroad too. Growing up, I was like any other lad. Riding a bike. Playing football. Doing my best at school. Life was good. Years passed. And then two things happened, but not at the same time.’
‘O-Oh?’ I said, feeling a sense of foreboding. Please tell me this darling boy hadn’t fallen in with the wrong crowd. Experimented with drugs. Drink. Ended up on the wrong side of the law. I was way off beam.
‘My parents died,’ he explained.
‘I’m sorry,’ I murmured.
‘Other family members gathered around. I was supported,’ he shrugged. ‘Nonetheless, a part of me felt…’ – he struggled to find the right words – ‘like a boat that had lost its mooring. I was still in the harbour, bobbing about, but I wasn’t… connected. For the first time I felt… out on a limb.’
‘Is that when you decided to search for your biological parents?’ asked Lisa.
Jake shook his head.
‘No. I parked those feelings to one side. I told myself that this inner sense of disconnection was due to bereavement – and eventually things did settle down. But then a second thing happened. By this point, a few years had passed. I was in a serious relationship.’
I felt my heart momentarily lift at the thought of this young man – my son no less –being independent. Meeting the girl of his dreams. I swiped one hand across my sodden cheeks.
‘Things between me and Hannah were good. We were in love. We’d bought a house together. As far as I was concerned, she was my future, and I hers.’ He swallowed. Paused. Took a breath. It was obvious that he was struggling to maintain his composure. When he next spoke, his voice was calm but loaded with pain. ‘And then Hannah suggested we start a family. That was when I fell apart.’