Chapter 2
Chapter
Two
JO
“Hello?”
“Miss Jo-Anne Louise Button?” It’s a man’s voice, calm, professional, and with a strong American accent.
“Yes?” I confirm, slightly intrigued. I can now rule out the Nigerian Prince.
“My name is Gavin Hampstead, and I’m a solicitor based in New York.”
But definitely a scam, and it’s too cold to be hanging out here chatting with scammers. “I think you have the wrong number. Goodbye.”
“No, I don’t.” he comes back quickly. “I’m calling regarding your father.”
That lands like a punch, and for a couple of seconds, I freeze with shock.
Then fury takes over. Scammers really don’t care who they hurt.
All my life, I’ve desperately wanted a father, but never had one, and this guy is using that painful fact to try to con me.
My voice is frosty. “My father? I don’t have a father, Mr. Hampstead. What is this really about?”
There’s a pause, but it’s not awkward or slimy, even though it should be. It’s measured and calm. And as much as I tell myself to end the call, that it’s just a scam, somehow, it doesn’t feel like it’s a scam.
“You have a father, and I’m afraid he is gravely ill,” the mysterious caller says. “He’s asked to see you. Immediately.”
I laugh, but it comes out brittle. “This isn’t funny.”
“I assure you, Miss Button, I’m not joking.”
“My father is dead,” I say. “Or imaginary, depending on who you ask.”
There’s another pause. This one feels kind of charged, like I am starting to believe this guy, and he feels it too.
“Your father is definitely not imaginary or dead. For now. He’s fifty-eight years old, but his health has been failing for some time now, and he is now very ill. He doesn’t have much time, and he really does want to see you, Miss Button.”
My hands are shaking. “You’ve made a mistake,” I say, but I don’t believe he has.
“I haven’t,” he says gently. “He knows all about you. He’s known about you and followed your progress through your entire life.”
Then he starts reeling off enough random facts about me growing up.
Stuff no one but my closest circle knows about, sports medals, a spelling bee competition I won at school, a trip I took to Europe to celebrate my eighteenth birthday.
I have no choice but to believe him. My mind is racing.
Why? Why did my father never want to meet me until now, when he’s dying?
And yet, he cared enough to watch me from a distance.
I don’t know how to feel about that. I don’t get it.
Does the fact that he didn’t stick around, but watched from afar make it better or worse?
“There isn’t much time,” Gavin continues. “You need to fly out to New York. Tonight. There will be a car outside your apartment in two hours. The driver will take you to the airport. Everything is arranged. I will come to meet you at this end when you arrive.”
“This is insane,” I gasp.
“I understand it is a shock,” he says soothingly. “But you will be fulfilling a dying man’s last wish. Please consider it. You are very important to him… and, perhaps, he will be able to answer any questions you have too.”
There is a pause when neither of us speaks.
Goosebumps scatter my skin, and I start to shiver.
Someone shouts from across the road. A taxi honks impatiently.
The door behind me opens, and the busy sounds from inside spill out.
Gavin Hampstead stays perfectly silent on the other end of the phone.
That is my life. It calls to me as I stand on the threshold of something new.
“All right,” I hear myself whispering.
“Good.” There is relief in his voice.
The call ends, and I stand there for a moment, dazed. My phone is still pressed to my ear even though the call is over. Slowly, I bring my hand back down and the city roars back into focus around me. A couple walks past laughing.
My heart is trying to climb out of my throat. I have to know if there’s any truth to this claim. There’s only one person who might know, but I don’t know whether or not she’ll tell me. I call my mother, and she answers on the third ring.
“Jo? It’s late. Are you alright?”
Automatically, I want to tell her it’s not that late; it’s only ten thirty, but none of that matters now. Instead, I blurt out the reason for my call.
“Mom,” I say. “Someone just called me. From New York. He said he’s my father’s solicitor. He said my father is dying and that he wants to see me before he dies.”
“Don’t be silly,” she snaps. Her reaction feels too fast, like she’s feeling guilty and hiding something. And just like that, Gavin Hampstead’s words start to ring true to me.
“You were conceived from a one-night stand. You know that,” Mum adds sharply.
“I don’t feel like I know anything when it comes to my father,” I say quietly, inviting her to finally tell me the truth about him.
Her breath catches slightly. “This is quite clearly a sick joke. Someone’s messing with your head.”
She didn’t take the chance I gave her, but I try again. “If he was a one-night stand,” I say quietly. “He shouldn’t even know I exist.”
“That’s right. He shouldn’t,” she insists. “This is some sort of fraud. And you should block his number and ignore him if he ever tries to contact you again.”
Something is wrong. I can hear it in the tightness of her voice, the way she’s over-enunciating, like if she’s careful enough, the truth won’t slip out.
Her voice softens. “I’m sorry, darling. I know you want to believe your father is out there in the world waiting to meet you, but it’s just not true.”
“Mom,” I plead. “Please, level with me. Is my father in New York? Does he know about me?”
There’s a long pause, and I think for a moment that she’s gathering the right words to finally tell me what I have always longed to know.
“It’s late,” she says finally. “And I can’t talk to you when you’ve been drinking and won’t hear sense.
Go home and go to sleep, Jo. I’ll call you in the morning. ”
The line goes dead. I guess that tells me all I need to know. I have a father, and she’s clearly lying. Why won’t she just tell me the truth? I stare at my cell phone, my chest aching.
On impulse, I Google Gavin Hampstead and the first hit lists him working at a prestigious law firm based in New York.
He’s one of the senior partners. If he is real, then I can’t help but wonder if this whole thing might just be real too.
What would a scammer get out of pretending to be a solicitor for a dying man?
He hasn’t asked for money or anything from me except a visit.
What would a scammer get out of convincing me to go home, pack a suitcase, and wait for a car that isn’t coming?
Nothing, that’s what. This is no scam. This is real.
For a moment, the world dips and rolls, and I have to put out a hand to steady myself. I hang my head and breathe in deeply until the moment passes. Then I put my phone back into my purse, turn around and walk back into the bar. The heat wraps around me like a hug as I head back to our booth.
My friends are mid-argument about something to do with sex when I slip back into my seat. They stop when they see my face.
“Jo?” Jenny asks, instantly concerned. “What’s happened? Who was that?”
I look up slowly. “Apparently, my father is dying, and he wants to see me.”
For a moment, there is silence and three confused faces.
Then Serena reaches for my hand and breaks the silence. “Ok. Start from the beginning.”
So, I do. I tell them about Gavin Hampstead’s assertion that I googled him and he really is a solicitor at a New York firm, and about my mum’s reaction to my call.
When I finish, Jenny looks like she might cry, Olivia looks like she might punch someone, and Serena looks like she’s already planning the logistics of my trip.
“Wow, this is huge,” Jenny gasps.
“It’s insane,” Olivia declares. “You didn’t know your father existed until tonight, and now he wants you to fly halfway around the world to meet him?”
“I’ve wanted a father my whole life,” I say softly. “The lawyer said he’s kept tabs on me my whole life. Something is not right. What if he didn’t walk away by choice?”
Serena squeezes my hand. “Then you go and talk to him and find out. Go with an open mind and the knowledge that you owe this man nothing, and that you can leave at any moment if things get ugly.”
Jenny nods. “I think you’ll regret it if you don’t go.”
My chest tightens. “I said I’d go, but I have to be honest. I’m a little scared.”
“Of course, you are,” Jenny says. “But you won’t be alone. We’ll all be just a call away if you need us. I could do with a holiday in New York.”
Olivia nods in agreement, and Serena changes her accent to a broad Brooklyn accent. “Yup, we could all do with a vacay in the Big Apple.”
I take a deep breath and offer them all a shaky smile.
“Holy shit, guys. Looks like I’m going to New York.”