And then when I was older:
‘Why did he leave?’
‘He didn’t love us properly. He only loves himself. But I love you, Stephen, with all my heart, and I’ll never let anyone hurt you again.’
Drops of water landed on the ink, blurring it, spreading it, washing another mark of her away.
Bollocks. Now I was crying. In front of Noelle.
‘What is it?’ she asked, circling her arms around my waist. ‘Tell me.’
‘I don’t want to—’ I broke off, my voice hoarse, and I scrubbed a tear off my cheek, but I didn’t pull away from her hold. It was too warm and comforting. ‘I don’t want to be angry with my mum, Noelle. But I don’t know what to do with it. I want to know why and she’s not here to ask.’
‘“Why” what?’
‘Why she made me think that he never got in contact again. I spent my whole life thinking he walked out and never looked back. But he did. What other lies have there been that I’ve believed for so long?’
She squeezed me tightly. ‘I’ll finish making the coffee and then we’ll sit down and talk it through. Uh-uh.’ She wagged her finger at me when I went to object. ‘No more avoiding. You’ve been bottling this up for too long. You need to get some of this off your chest. Dump a bit on me. I love hypothesising. It’s basically my job. We’ll see if it helps.’
We sat down together on the sofa, facing each other with big mugs of coffee and some toast. It felt normal, especially when Noelle started asking questions, the way she always did, worrying around the problem, trying to deduce a way into it. I didn’t feel like I was alone trying to figure it out anymore.
I told her what little I remembered about having my dad around, and that his disappearance was more of a memory than anything I could actually remember doing with him. Other than his motorcycle. But that could have simply been because one of the only photos I had was him standing with his motorcycle.
I told her how I remembered asking where he was, but I could see it made my mum sad, so I would stop asking. And then I would see other families, with their dads and ask again and she’d tell me she didn’t know where he’d gone but we were better off without him.
I told her how when Mum and David got married I was happy because we would be a normal family again, but when Nick was born I couldn’t help but feel like the odd one out from their unit, even though David was never anything but a fantastic parent, who I believed loved me. Even though I loved Nick from the first moment I saw the annoying little git.
‘It sounds to me – and I’m just doing a pop psychology thing – but it sounds to me like you’re more like your mom than you think.’
I shook my head. ‘She was blonde-haired and blue-eyed, like Nick.’
‘Not in looks maybe. I mean, I’ve not even seen a photo of your mom, but I’ve met your father and it’s obvious looks-wise you’re very similar. But your mom raised you. And you suffered the losses together. I think maybe she was just trying to protect you from Trevor hurting you again. She wanted you to stop feeling for him, probably the same way she needed to, and so she didn’t want his birthday cards to give you hope. I mean, sending a postcard once or twice a year to your kid is not being a parent. She knew him for the irresponsible douchebag that he is. How many years did he send you cards for after he left: five, six?’
‘Looks like five.’
‘Right. So why did he stop? Life moved on for him.’ She took a deep breath and put her hand on my thigh, rubbing. ‘I hate to say it, but it was easier for him to move on, than to put in the effort to rebuild a relationship with you, wasn’t it? Otherwise, he would’ve done it. When you really love someone, you’ll do most anything to keep them in your life and know they’re okay, won’t you? She knew his form and just wanted to save your heart being broken again. You’d already lost him once. How many times would you have to go through it, if she gave you the birthday cards and then the next year he forgot? So, she lied. To protect you.’
‘That does make sense.’ I put my hand over hers, let my thumb trace the dips and ridges of her knuckles. ‘How does that make me like her though?’
‘You try to protect Nick all the time. That was why you lied at Christmas to try and split him and Beth up, wasn’t it? It’s why you’re trying to counsel him to slow down around proposing. You don’t want to see him get hurt.’
‘It’s hard to argue with that.’
‘Of course it is. It’s what you told me yourself. I’m just joining the dots for you.’ She smiled and sipped at her mug of coffee. ‘This next bit, I don’t think you’ll want to hear so much though.’
My hand stilled. ‘Oh?’
‘I think you should talk to him again. Trevor. Put him on the spot. Get the answers. They might be painful answers but once you know, you can deal with it, and then you can decide if you want to stay in contact with him or not.’
I let out a whoosh of breath. Even the idea of it felt like a betrayal to my mother. I took Noelle’s mug from her and put it on the coffee table, then pulled her over so she was lying on top of me. It was a lot easier to talk about with her wrapped around me. It was easy to let myself believe she thought I was nothing like my father.
I still remembered the words that she let slip yesterday.I knew this was a bad idea.And I didn’t blame her for feeling that way at all, but I was starting to hear a whisper, from somewhere deep inside me, that it would be wonderful to prove her wrong.
‘I don’t know about that,’ I admitted. ‘He’s had my number for the last week and not tried to contact me. Perhaps that’s all I need to know. He’s still not interested.’
‘Well…maybe.’ She hooked her leg over mine and I trailed my hand up from her ankle, over her calf to her thigh when my T-shirt was riding high. ‘But he does have a wife with cancer who he’s caring for. And he’s probably been in shock. You weren’t exactly friendly – not that I blame you inanyway – but I suppose in his head you stayed a cute little three-year-old and now you’re this strapping, six-foot-plus man in his prime who doesn’t like him very much.’
‘Strapping, am I?’ I squeezed her bottom and hauled her closer as she laughed.
