Chapter Eight
CHAPTER EIGHT
Heath unwrapped another gift and held it up. ‘What’s the tally on the bottles of booze now?’
Ottilie took it from him and put it with the others on the table. ‘Three brandies, a couple of gins and six bottles of wine. I don’t think we’ll have to buy any booze for a while.’
‘We could take some over to Magnus and Geoff to repay what we drank of theirs last night.’
Ottilie nodded as she inspected the label of the one Heath had just passed to her. ‘That’s a good idea.’
She was calm on the outside, but her stomach was churning. Glancing up at the clock, yet again, she noted that she had only fifteen minutes until her mum was due. She had no idea how she was going to open the discussion, but she had to talk to her about what Fion had said before she let her go back to Manchester.
Then there was a knock, and Ottilie started.
‘If this is your mum, she’s early,’ Heath said, which made Ottilie suspect that he’d been watching the clock as keenly as she had. ‘I’ll go.’
A moment later, he came back. Francine followed with Flo and Heath’s parents. Ottilie tried to hide her vexation. She’d ordinarily be pleased to see them all, but she needed her mum alone.
‘Why don’t you show your mum that thing in the garden?’ Heath said very deliberately, and Ottilie could have thrown herself at him and kissed him. ‘I’ll make everyone a snack.’
‘What thing in the garden?’ Flo asked. ‘Shall I?—’
‘Could you help me with the sandwiches?’ Heath guided his gran gently to the counter. ‘Mum,’ he added, ‘You can get some plates out for me. And, Dad, if you could open some wine…’
Ottilie didn’t need to be told twice. Before anyone could argue, she beckoned her mum to follow her outside. She led her to a shaded bench. The sun hadn’t yet reached this corner and she pulled her cardigan tighter. Francine was still in her coat and seemed content enough.
‘Let’s sit down here for a minute,’ Ottilie said.
Francine frowned slightly as she took a seat, and Ottilie settled beside her. ‘What’s this about?’
Ottilie gave a wan smile. It wouldn’t have taken a genius to work out there was something going on here that was about more than showing off some plant or other.
‘Something weird happened yesterday. A girl turned up at the party and told me she was my sister.’
Ottilie studied her mum’s reaction, and the shock – but also guilt – told her all she needed to know.
‘How?’
‘That’s what I want to know.’
‘How did she…?’ Francine looked as if she might faint. Ottilie gave her a moment. ‘I don’t know where to start. How did she find you?’
‘I decided to do an ancestry test. I was curious. She’d used the same people and we were matched.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘She showed me.’
‘Ah…’ Francine paused, her hands shaking.
‘I have no Irish in my DNA. I didn’t think anything of it at first, but it all adds up. Did you know? That Dad wasn’t my real dad?’
‘To be honest, I didn’t know, not for sure. There was a possibility.’
Ottilie stared, her heart hammering now. ‘Did Dad know?’
Francine nodded. ‘You have to understand, for the most part, our marriage was a happy one.’
‘But…’
‘But there was a time, shortly before I fell pregnant with you, when things were difficult. We thought about splitting up. And then I started to work for Conrad. I was looking for some comfort…oh, Ottilie, please don’t judge me.’
‘I’m trying not to. It will help if I understand. Conrad…that’s the man…that’s Fion’s dad. So he’s my dad?’ It felt like a betrayal to say the words out loud, but Ottilie had no choice. That was her new reality.
‘Yes.’
‘You had an affair with him?’
Francine wrapped her arms tight around herself. ‘Oh, Ottilie, don’t say it like that.’
‘But you had a…relationship with him? When was this?’
‘I had a little job at his kitchen showroom. I was only there a few months. What we had was so brief, hardly anything at all, and then I realised what a horrible mistake I’d made. I left the job, and your dad and I patched things up. I found out I was pregnant shortly afterwards.’
Ottilie was silent for a moment, staring into space, processing what she’d heard. In the tree above them was a rowdy nest of sparrows. She and Heath had been joking about them the day before, but she hardly noticed now.
‘I should have told you this years ago,’ Francine said into the gap. ‘You’re an adult, a sensible and intelligent woman, and I know it would have been better for me to be honest than for you to find out this way. But I was scared of what you’d think, of how it might change things between us. You understand that, don’t you? I’m so sorry, Ottilie.’
‘But you didn’t know if Conrad was my biological dad?’
‘Not for sure. I suppose the dates added up better than they did in any other scenario. I suppose I wanted to believe you were your dad’s. So did he. When he caught me – that’s when we decided it was make or break. In a way, I think I almost made it easy for him to catch me. Looking back, it’s clear to me I wanted his attention; I wanted him to look at our marriage and to see what I saw. I wanted him to fight for it. And he did. We worked it out, and he was thrilled when I told him I was expecting. But then he started to think about things, and, naturally, he wondered if he was the father.’
‘But you didn’t try to find out?’
‘It wasn’t so easy back then. We decided that he would be your dad regardless. He didn’t want to question it. He loved you so much, he didn’t want anything to come between you and him. If there was ever any doubt, you might have felt differently about him, and he’d have hated that. So we never spoke of Conrad again, and we never ever talked about the possibility of Conrad being your father. After your dad died, I didn’t see the point in dredging the past up any more than I had while he was alive. As far as we were concerned, you were our daughter.’
Ottilie shook her head. ‘This is mad.’
‘I’m sure it must be a shock. I understand if you’re angry.’
Ottilie grabbed her mum’s hand. ‘I’m not angry; I’m only trying to take it in. I might need time.’
‘Of course. I’m sorry – I shouldn’t be thinking of myself.’
‘I don’t think that’s what you’re doing. You’re my mum and I love you no matter what, but things have changed.’
‘Do you want me to leave?’
‘No. I want you to stay. Things are different, but what you are to me isn’t. I’m not so na?ve to think marriages are straightforward and simple. I know you loved Dad, and I understand why you both made the decisions you did. I just need time.’
‘What did I do to deserve such an amazing daughter?’
‘If I’m amazing, it’s only because you raised me that way. You brought me up to be tolerant and patient, to understand that people have all sorts of reasons for what they do and never to judge. If I’m this person now, it’s down to you and Dad. My dad, not some bloke I’ve never met.’
Ottilie was pleased to see the relief on her mum’s face. She still had questions, many of them. Had her mum kept in touch with Conrad? Had she been in love with him? Would they share these new discoveries with anyone else? But those questions would wait. The most important thing now was for her and Francine to get through this, together, with their relationship undamaged.
‘What will you do now?’ Francine asked. ‘Are you going to see him?’
‘I don’t know. I’m going to meet with Fion again. Would it upset you if I went to see him?’
‘It would be difficult, but I can’t stop you. He’s not…’ Francine paused. ‘He’s not much like your dad.’
‘I didn’t expect him to be. Is he…?’ Ottilie shook her head. Perhaps it wasn’t fair to quiz her mum on what he was like, and perhaps she didn’t want to know. Or perhaps she wanted to discover for herself, build a relationship without preconceptions. ‘Never mind.’
Through the kitchen window she could see Heath talking to someone out of view. And then Flo appeared and looked out.
‘We’ve been rumbled,’ Ottilie said, realising that they were going to have to go inside and pretend nothing seismic had happened.
Francine had reminded Ottilie that she didn’t need her blessing – she was an adult, after all – but Ottilie had wanted it all the same. She wasn’t about to do anything that would upset Francine and said so. Francine said that nothing she could do could ever upset her and that she was perfectly entitled to form a relationship with her own flesh and blood if she wanted to. And so, confident in her mum’s approval, Ottilie arranged to meet Fion.
That bright morning she waited for her half-sister at the same café in Kendal she’d often taken Flo to on their drives out. She’d managed to snag a table by the vast windows, and the sun was warming her through the glass, while the higgledy stone-built high street beyond bustled with shoppers and day-trippers. It was as quaint and charming as she’d come to expect from the many Lake District towns and villages she’d been to since she’d moved to the area; busier than some, and big enough to keep Flo amused for a decent chunk of a day whenever Ottilie brought her. Before arriving at the café, Ottilie had made a point of buying some Kendal mint cake from Flo’s favourite shop. She might be disappointed when she discovered Ottilie had been without her, but once Ottilie explained what she was doing there and presented her with the gift, she was sure Flo would be a little more forgiving.
Fion had seemed keen during their messages. She’d told Ottilie to choose the location and she’d get there, no matter where it was.
As Ottilie was checking the time, noting that Fion was now fifteen minutes late and wondering if she ought to phone to see what the hold-up was, she happened to glance outside and see her half-sister dashing down the opposite side of the road, looking up at all the business signs. She stood at the window and waved to catch her attention. Fion saw her immediately and broke into an anxious but also relieved smile.
‘I’m so sorry!’ Fion said. ‘The bus was held up – some daft sheep on the road…’
‘Of course it was. How very Lake District.’ Ottilie smiled. ‘Not to worry, you’re here now. I was just about to order. What do you fancy? I’m buying.’
‘Oh…um…I’ll have a flat white, please. Thank you.’
‘That’s all right.’ Ottilie took her purse from her bag. ‘Nothing else? Cake or a panini or something?’
‘I’m not hungry, thanks.’
‘If you don’t mind, I’m starving so I’m going to get a toasted sandwich.’
‘Why would I mind?’
‘Because I’ll be munching it right in front of you and it might not be pretty.’
‘Oh…’ Fion smiled awkwardly, and Ottilie realised that it was perhaps too early for her jokes – such as they were – to land. Things would be strange and new for a while yet, she supposed.
‘I won’t be a minute.’
Ottilie went to the counter and placed her order. The barista took the payment and told her to wait at the table and she’d bring everything over when it was ready. As Ottilie rejoined Fion, she found her typing a message on her phone. She looked up.
‘Sorry…some stuff I had to reply to.’
‘Don’t mind me. Is it work or something?’
‘No, I…I just lost my job, actually.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry. What did you do?’
‘It was only serving in a shop. I could probably find another job easily enough. I just haven’t had time to look yet.’
Ottilie smiled. The nerves she’d had driving over had gone, but she was still finding this harder work than she’d imagined. But when she thought about it, she didn’t know why she’d expected anything else. ‘What are you going to do? Do you want another shop job, or do you fancy a change?’
‘I can’t say I’ve thought about it. I know I have to get something soon to get Dad off my back.’
‘You still live with them?’
‘Yes. Twenty-six and still with my parents. I suppose you think that’s pathetic.’
‘God, no! I’d have stayed with mine as long as they’d have had me.’
‘That’s just it – I’m not sure they do want me. Even they think I’m too old to be there – Mum doesn’t say it, but Dad does. But it’s hard to get a place round here on shop wages, you know? Not on your own, at any rate. If I had a partner, I could maybe afford it, but I don’t, and none of my friends are in a position to houseshare, so…’
‘I can imagine it must be hard.’
‘I hate living with my parents, actually,’ Fion said, with sudden passion in her statement. ‘I wish I could find a way out. They’re not bad people, but I feel…’
‘Stifled?’ Ottilie prompted. ‘Like you’re running on the spot?’
‘Yeah,’ Fion said. ‘That’s it. That’s a good way of putting it. How do you know?’
‘Well…’ Ottilie unfolded a paper napkin and spread it over her lap, ‘I might not be in the same position as you right now, but I remember what it was like living at home with my parents…’ She paused and smiled. ‘Vaguely anyway. I have to admit it was a while ago. But I get it – there comes a point when you’re not the girl you were and you want to live in a different way than how they do.’
‘But you can’t because you have to follow their rules because you’re living under their roof , and if you don’t like it, you can find your own roof.’
Ottilie got the impression that Fion was paraphrasing, and guessed it was something Conrad often said.
‘That sounds tough,’ Ottilie said.
‘It’s not so bad, I suppose,’ Fion said.
The barista came over with their order. Ottilie thanked her, and she left them again.
‘So you got engaged,’ Fion said. ‘When are you going to get married?’
‘Not sure yet. We’ve been trying to agree on an exact date. You wouldn’t think it would be so hard, but every time we think we’ve nailed it, one of us comes up with a reason it won’t do after all.’
‘I suppose everyone else wants a say too.’
‘Not so much, actually. Most of our friends and family are being respectful about keeping out of it. I mean, it’s second time around for both of us too, so we’re a bit long in the tooth for all that kind of stuff. It’s not other people being a nuisance, it’s us.’
‘So you’ve been married before?’
‘Yes. He…’ Ottilie stirred her coffee. It never got any easier to say, even though it was now a couple of years since Josh’s death and she had Heath. ‘He was a policeman. He got killed on duty.’
‘Oh…’ Fion’s eyes widened. ‘That’s awful.’
‘It was.’ She put her spoon down and decided to change the subject. ‘What about you? Is there someone special?’
‘Not really. I’ve had a few boyfriends, but they’ve mostly been idiots.’
‘So nobody at the moment?’
‘No.’
‘Ah. Have you always lived in Penrith? Your family, I mean.’
‘I have. Mum and Dad are both from Manchester way. But I suppose you know that. How come your mum…?’
‘You want to know how I’ve ended up with the same dad as you and how come I didn’t know about him?’
Fion nodded.
‘To cut a long story short, my mum and Conrad had a… thing . They split up, and my dad – the man I call Dad – raised me as his own and they never told me otherwise. That’s it, really.’
‘Were you pissed off when you found out about it?’
‘I suppose I was shocked, but…’ Ottilie shrugged. ‘That’s life, isn’t it? It’s often the way, you think you’ve got it all worked out and then someone comes to pull the rug from under you.’
‘I’m probably not supposed to say it, but I’m sort of glad. I mean, I’m glad I have a sister now.’
‘I grew up an only child too. I always wanted a brother or sister. I have to admit, I didn’t expect to get one quite so late!’
‘But you don’t mind? That I came to find you, I mean.’
‘Not a bit.’
Fion seemed to brighten at this. She took a sip of her coffee, gazing at Ottilie over the rim of the cup. ‘I think we look a bit alike,’ she said, placing the cup back on the saucer.
Ottilie studied her for a moment. A slightly pointy nose; freckles; fine, straight hair. ‘I think you might be right. Poor you.’
‘I should say poor you,’ Fion said, a smile now forming at the corners of her mouth.
‘Actually, let’s agree that we’re both hot,’ Ottilie said. ‘Positive vibes only here today.’
Fion’s smile grew. ‘You’re a nurse?’
‘I am.’
‘That’s cool. You got a good job at least.’
‘It has its moments. It’s not always as glamorous as people like to think.’
‘Do they think that?’
‘Well, if you watch half of the medical dramas on telly, you’d think so. It’s better now I work in the community than it used to be when I was on the wards in Manchester. Nicer, I mean. I get to know my patients really well. Most of them are lovely.’
‘What made you want to do that?’
‘To be honest, I don’t recall it being a decision. It was just something I grew up knowing I was going to do – I never considered any other career.’
‘That must be nice. I don’t have a clue what I want to do, even at twenty-six.’
‘I bet there are a lot of people in the same boat. What are you interested in? Could you find a career in the things you’re into?’
Fion shrugged. ‘Maybe.’
Ottilie watched her pick up the cup again. She got the impression that Fion was a young woman who didn’t yet know who she was and how she fitted into the world around her. It pained her to see because talking to her now, she also saw that Fion was sweet, bright and articulate, and that she desperately wanted to find her place.
‘I like cooking,’ Fion added.
‘There has to be a career in that, I bet.’
‘Dad says I’m not very good at it.’
Ottilie ignored what sounded like mean and unhelpful input on Conrad’s behalf. Her father ought to have been encouraging his daughter, not belittling her. ‘But you could train to be good. If you love doing it, then you can get better. Enrol on a course or something? Get a trainee chef job?’
‘I might be too old for that sort of thing.’
‘I don’t know much about it, but you’re not exactly ancient. There must be opportunities for someone a bit older, surely?’
‘I wouldn’t know where to start.’
Ottilie regarded her steadily. It was clear to her that Fion was a woman who needed a serious boost to her confidence and self-belief. Ottilie didn’t know what her childhood had been like, and whether her lack of those things was anything to do with that, or simply something she’d been born with, but she didn’t believe that Fion deserved to held back by it. What was also clear was that Fion was bright and likeable and given half a chance could be successful. Perhaps she could help her. She wasn’t sure how, but there had to be a way, and it would have to be in a way that didn’t make Fion feel patronised and that she’d still had a hand in it.
‘We could do some investigating together,’ she said. ‘And Heath might be able to help. Would you fancy working in Manchester?’
‘But I’d have to move there,’ Fion said doubtfully. ‘I don’t think I could afford to do that.’
‘There might be remote work. Or you could commute.’
‘I can’t drive,’ Fion said.
Ottilie nodded. ‘I suppose that might be a problem. Haven’t you wanted to learn?’
‘Yes. I had a few lessons, but I wasn’t very good – couldn’t get the hang of doing everything at once.’
‘I can help with that too,’ Ottilie said. ‘I could give you driving lessons. We could take it as slowly as you like because you’re not paying me by the hour, so it wouldn’t matter how long it took to get the hang of it. We’d just keep going until it clicked.’
Fion brightened at this. ‘You’d do that?’
‘Of course I would. We’re family. I’d love to – it would give us a chance to get to know each other too. I could come over to Penrith and pick you up whenever you like.’
‘From the house?’ Fion asked, doubtful again.
‘I wouldn’t if it’s a problem.’
‘I don’t mind coming to Thimblebury on the bus.’
Ottilie cut her toasted sandwich in half. ‘Whatever suits you is fine by me. And now the days are getting longer you can come when I’ve finished work and we’ll have plenty of daylight – just while you’re getting used to the car I think it might be better not to drive in the dark. The roads around Thimblebury aren’t very well lit at night.’
‘That would be amazing!’ Fion said, her face now in a genuine smile. ‘Thank you!’
‘It’s nothing.’
‘But if I can drive, it will help so much. I’ll be able to come over to see you whenever I want.’
‘You can do that anyway – I’m sure if there’s no bus, Heath or I can come to pick you up. Or we can meet somewhere like we’ve done today. I want to get to know you, and I’m glad you want the same.’
‘Does Heath live with you? You said he works in Manchester.’
‘He’s in the process of moving in with me. He just needs to get some things in place so he can remotely work and then he’ll be able to. I can’t wait, to be honest. We’ve been going back and forth to Manchester for so long it’s started to feel exhausting.’
‘I bet. You like Thimblebury then?’
‘I love it.’
‘But you used to live in Manchester, like my dad did?’
‘Born and bred.’
‘You don’t miss it?’
‘I did a bit at first. You get used to a place, and Thimblebury seemed so quiet in comparison. I enjoy visiting now, but I don’t miss it. What about Penrith? It’s bigger than Thimblebury. I bet there’s a lot more going on, especially in the summer.’
‘Oh, we have festivals and whatever. I can’t say I know how I feel about living there. It’s home, but I’ve never lived anywhere else to compare it to.’
‘You’ve never fancied moving to a city for a while? You’re younger than me – didn’t you ever get bored being in a small town?’
Fion shrugged. ‘I don’t think I’m a city type of girl. I don’t like nightclubs and that sort of thing, so I don’t know if I’d like life in a big city.’
‘There are more than nightclubs,’ Ottilie said with a smile as she bit into her sandwich. ‘There’s art and culture and history and brilliant shopping – in Manchester, at least. Thimblebury is home now, but I’ll always have a bit of my heart there – it was home for most of my life before this and, of course, I have family and friends there and memories of Josh.’
‘Josh?’ Fion gave a slight frown. ‘Your husband who died?’
Ottilie nodded. ‘Losing him was why I left Manchester in the first place. I couldn’t bear to be there with all those memories, but time has made it easier, and when I go now it reminds me of the good things, not the bad.’
‘I can’t imagine what it must have been like.’
‘I hope you never have to find out – I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. I still miss him, but my life is good again. In a different way, but good.’
‘I’m glad I came,’ Fion said.
‘Me too. Fion…’ Ottilie paused, wondering whether to ask. But in the end the urge was too strong. ‘I think I would like to meet your dad. Do you think I could?’
‘I don’t know if…’ It might have been Ottilie’s imagination, but Fion seemed to pale. ‘I don’t think he’d be keen.’
‘But you could ask him? Now we know there’s no problem as far as your mum is concerned, then surely he’d want to meet me? He’d be a bit curious, wouldn’t he? You could be there if it helps – we could tell him about how we’re becoming good friends and it would make him feel easier?’
Fion seemed torn. She turned her gaze to the window without a reply.
‘Please,’ Ottilie said. ‘Could you at least ask him?’
After what seemed like an age, Fion turned back with a nervous smile. ‘When?’
‘Whenever he has time. You’ll ask him and let me know?’
‘Yes.’
Ottilie tried not to be troubled by the reluctance in Fion’s tone. She’d never asked for much out of life, and she rarely put herself before others, but this time, just this once, she was going to. Because she wouldn’t be able to rest until she’d met the father she’d just discovered for herself.