Page 71

Joseph stalks off to the bathroom. I stand in the living room and wait. There’s no further noise from Joseph, so when Maddie bounds back out of my bedroom, she has all my attention.

“I got it,” she announces.

“Okay, well, look after it. I’ll see you over the weekend and you can tell me all about the party. Don’t keep Verity waiting,” I urge.

“Hey, Dee. I know I’m young, but you can tell me about how you’ve been seeing the movie star. My friends would be so excited,” she whispers. It’s more of a stage whisper than a true one, and I cringe at the idea that Joseph will hear her from the bathroom. He’s not going to find that amusing. I’m sure he’s not going to find anything amusing right now.

“He’s just a friend, Maddie. Go on. I’ll talk to you at the weekend.”

She nods and shouts her goodbyes, and then she darts out of the flat, shutting the door behind her.

I stay in the living room, motionless as I stare at the door and wait. I feel the whoosh of anxiety that rushes through my body, radiating from my stomach to my head and my toes at the same time. Little waves of sickness and heat as I wait for the storm.

I knew allowing Joseph into my life would mean I would have to cross this bridge at some point. This was always a secret that would find the light, rupture the pretend bubble I put around us.

I knew I was being impulsive the night I chose to put on my fancy underwear and walked to the door with every intention of going to his house. I knew I was reckless the moment I pulled him inside from my doorstep. I’ve chided myself about it in the still of the night, but I lost my grasp on the fear of the upcoming revelation whenever he pulled me closer to his body.

I feel foolish that I’ve allowed myself to think that the inevitable wouldn’t happen, but I let myself drown in him long enough to decide it didn’t matter, that somehow, I could avoid this situation.

Eventually there is the heavy thudding of his footsteps as he comes back from the bathroom. He carries on walking until he stands in front of me, stepping around me given I’m still staring at the door, shellshocked and terrified about the conversation that will rock my world.

He stares at me. Minutes pass before he clears his throat. “She’s mine,” he says.

It isn’t a question. It’s a statement. There is nothing for me to deny or lie about. What’s the point? I’ve never been able to lie. Omit facts? Sure, I can do that every single day. Openly lie and deny anything, let alone something so blatantly true? Never.

“Yes,” I whisper.

“Does she know? Know that you’re her mother, I mean.”

“No. Verity adopted Maddie at birth. Maddie doesn’t even know she’s adopted. She thinks Verity is her mother and that I’m her slightly reckless, much older half-sister. She looked so much like me as a baby, I guess they thought it would be too hard to deny the family resemblance,” I explain.

I remember my dad holding Maddie in the hours after she was born, when he looked at me and proclaimed she was the spitting image of me. By that point, Verity and Dad had already agreed to adopt Maddie. It was always clear that I wasn’t going to keep her.

“Do Verity and your father know she’s mine?”

“No, of course not. I never told them who her father was. The only person who knows is Felix.”

“Felix knows,” he repeats. The frustration is visible on his face, evident in his tone.

“Yes. The only people who ever knew I was pregnant were Dad and Verity, Felix, and his parents. The only person who knew she was yours was Felix.”

“Felix knows, but I didn’t.”

Now he sounds angry. It’s almost like the shock of seeing Maddie has ebbed, and now the only thing that remains is frustration and anger.

“How exactly did you want me to tell you?” I murmur.

I think back to the early days of the pregnancy, when I was alone, terrified, and so thoroughly heartbroken. I desperately wanted to find Joseph, but I knew finding him and telling him there was a baby would have ruined his life. His life with Hannah, the one he chose over a life with me.

“I don’t know… I should have been involved,” he says. His voice is quiet, and he sounds wounded.

“How involved would you have been, Joseph? How involved would Hannah have let you be? You never told me anything about her. You remember that, right? I guess she didn’t have a goddamn clue about me either, did she?” I can’t help my slightly raised voice.

“My not telling you about Hannah means it’s okay for you not to have told me about a pregnancy?” he scoffs.

“I’m not saying that. I didn’t say what I did was right, because I know it wasn’t. I just want you to put yourself in my shoes. Think about what I felt, what I was going through. I thought we had this beautiful relationship, but then I found out you had a fiancée. A fiancée you left me to be with, and the only explanation I got was some letter you wrote,” I remind him.

“How long after did you…?” His voice trails off.