Page 105 of The Way We Are Now

‘Do your children know about him?’ I ask now. ‘Do the boys? Does Immi?’

‘No, absolutely not. No one does! It’s not something I’ve ever broadcast. Immi never met him, thank goodness. He’d died before she was born. Angus and Miles remember him, of course, but they didn’t have much to do with him. You know, with him being in the nursing home. The thing is, as far as I can see, only Sara, you and me, know about this darker side to my father; only we three have any knowledge about this other life he led.’

‘And Fliss.’

‘Fliss isn’t here,’ Theo says gently, releasing my hand.

‘But we still don’t know if Hugh killed her,’ I say.

‘When you went with Sara to the police just over twenty years ago, Dad had been dead over five years.’

‘I know, I know. We know all this! They tried to open that cold case but didn’t get very far and still concluded that Fliss was working as an escort girl, had been drinking heavily, fell and drowned. Death by misadventure. They couldn’t interview your dad as the main witness because he was dead. No other woman, apart from Sara, has ever come forward about your dad. And when Sara did, it was years too late.’ I take a sip from my glass, remembering. ‘Theo, I tried so hard on Sara’s behalf,’ I continue, ‘but she wasn’t a great witness. Was terribly nervous, couldn’t get her story straight, couldn’t remember dates and times. Didn’t want her family to know anything. But even though he was your dad, even though I loved you, I wanted some sort of justice for Fliss.’

‘I know, I know. And I get that…’ Theo stands and stretches. Shakes himself. ‘It’s in the past, Anna. We don’t know what actually happened to Fliss that morning. We never will. Do you not think, now, it’s the future we need to sort? Noah and Immi’s future?’

33

Have I always known Theo is Noah’s father? I don’t know. Possibly. Very probably. Over the years I’ve asked myself again and again why I’ve never told Noah the possibility of Theo Mandeville being his birth father. Embarrassment at telling a child, then a teenager that I’d slept with two men at the same time? Worry that Noah would judge me and I’d lose him? Fear that he might take it upon himself to head north out of curiosity and confront Theo and his family? And as he grew older and I saw how much he and Michael adored each other, there seemed no reason to upset the apple cart; to open a can of worms. And certainly, I continued to hate the idea that my son might carry Hugh Mandeville’s genes in his body. By not confronting the truth of Noah’s paternity, I was able to bury my head in the sand, ignore the past and get on with my and my son’s future.

What I do know is that two days later, as soon as Noah has slammed out of the house and Theo, white-faced, has left for King’s Cross and the train back north, I need to ring Michael.

‘Any chance you can come round?’ I ask. ‘It’s important.’

‘Is your mum there? You know she terrifies me.’

‘You know she loves you,’ I say, smiling in spite of what I have to tell him.

‘OK then, the reality of your new post has suddenly hit you?’ He laughs. ‘You need a hand to hold? Need someone to tell you that you can do it, despite what the papers say?’

‘What the papers say?’ For a split second I feel indignation and then remember why I’m calling him. ‘Do me a favour? Just call round?’

‘OK. I’ve to drop Maisie off at some do in Tooting. Do you think a do in Tooting is a suitable venue for a sixteen-year-old girl?’ For a second, I think he’s serious then, in typical Michael style, realise he’s joking.

‘Maisie’s as tough as you are,’ I say. ‘And if it’s after school, what’s she likely to get up to?’

‘Don’t be naïve, Anna,’ he retorts. ‘Right, I’ll see you in an hour or so.’

‘What’s up?’ Michael asks as I let him in and he sees my face. ‘What? Is it Noah?’

‘Sort of.’

‘Oh, God, what? He’s not got some girl pregnant? Not decided he’s had enough of Oxford and is off to find himself in Outer Mongolia? Is he here?’

‘He’s just stormed off.’

‘Noah has?’ Michael pulls a face. ‘Not like him. What’s up?’

‘Michael, he and Theo Mandeville have just done a paternity test.’

‘OK?’ That’s all he says for a while, just looks at me with a hard stare. ‘And?’ he eventually asks.

‘Theo is Noah’s biological father.’

If I’m expecting anger, censure, recrimination, a slamming out of the same door my son has just exited, I’m to be disappointed.

‘Of course he is,’ Michael says, going to sit down. ‘As you say, biologically anyway. I think I’ve always known. I mean, he doesn’t look a great deal like me, does he?’

‘But he doesn’t look a great deal like Theo either. He’s more like me – looks very much like my dad. But Michael, you’re Noah’s real dad.’