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Hannah’s next words tear everything I understood about my world away.
“He's yours. I mean ours. Connor is your son.”
The words bounce off me as her lie goes too far. This is impossible. “No, he isn't.”
“Yes.”
“No.” I stand and cross my arms again. “Why are you saying this?”
“Bryn, he is. Why would I tell you if it wasn't true?” Her puffed eyes, red from tears are wide with panic – fear I don’t believe her words. How can I? But Hannah never had a brother when she lived in Wales.
“How old is he?”
“Eight.” She pauses and adds quietly, “He was born seven months after I arrived in Australia.”
I shake my head, wishing I could shake away the crazy story Hannah's telling me. I've never seen this boy, or a picture. Hannah mentioned him briefly when I asked who she lived with the first time we met, saying she lived with her brother and mum, but never mentioned him again. “No.”
“He is, please believe me!”
“If he is why are you only telling me now? If he was mine you'd have told me!” I shout.
Hannah shrinks back in alarm. “I don't know… everything was easier that way.”
“Easier?” I choke
“I was sixteen and scared. I couldn’t cope with what was happening. Nobody knew I was pregnant until I was seven months gone because I convinced myself it wasn’t happening. I had a breakdown, refused to believe I’d had a baby and Mum took over. I pretended he was my brother because that was the only way I–”
“You didn't tell me!” I interrupt. “Nobody told me! Why the fuck not?”
“What would be the point? Why ruin your life too? You were the other side of the world, at school still. Then your life took an even bigger leap away from mine and I decided not to.”
“But when you got back in touch… I have money, why didn't you…? Shit!” I sit, hold my head, inhaling against the dizzying realisation Hannah is telling me the truth.
“Every time I saw you, I wanted to tell you but couldn't find the words.” Hannah's words echo as the distance between the outside world and my head grows. “I didn’t want you to think I was only interested in your money.”
I have a son.
“Where is he?” I ask, looking up. “Is he with you?”
“Australia.”
“Why isn’t he with you?”
The trembling lip starts again but my sympathy for Hannah left.She lied. Hid my son.
“He's sick.”
“Sick?”
She takes another deep, ragged breath. “Connor has leukaemia and he needs a bone marrow transplant. I came here because I wanted you to ask your family if they’d have tests. It's a shot in the dark but there's a possibility one of your family – even you – might match.” More rehearsed words.
I heave in a breath.Too much. No more.
This isn’t fucking real.
“My son has cancer and you never told me?” I ask hoarsely. “How long? Were you going to let him die and never tell him who his father was?”
“Please, don't be angry.”
