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His eyes pierced mine. “Forget I’m here, Katie, just concentrate on you.”
I nodded, and then I left him.
Mum was watching TV, some crappy weeknight quiz show after dinner. Her half-finished bowl of pasta was still at her side.
“Hi, sweetheart. Have you eaten? There’s some pasta on the hob.” She turned back to the screen. “Edison! Thomas Edison! He made the lightbulb!” The team on screen got it wrong and she let out a sigh, shook her head. “Dimwits. Where do they even find these people?”
I could only stare at her, at the mum who’d raised me, who’d loved me, who’d always been there. I took a seat on the armchair next to her, perched on the edge like a dithery little bird.
I felt so stupid, so angry at my thumping heart for even considering the need to ask the question. But I did need to.
“Mum, I need to ask you something, and I need you to tell me the truth, ok?”
She shot me a glance, and her eyebrows lifted. “What is it? My God, Katie, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” She paused the TV, turned in her seat to face me.
I took a breath. “He knew who I was, didn’t he? The sperm donor. He knew we were here, thatIwas here. He knew, right?” I smiled, waiting for her laughter, her look of surprise.
But it didn’t come. She looked like she’d seen a ghost, too.
“What did he say?” Her eyes were so wide. “What did he tell you?”
I shook my head. “Nothing. He didn’t… he never told me anything…” I fiddled with the hem of my skirt. “He did know, right? He knew about me?”
She was quiet.
“Mum, tell me.” I fought the panic. “Did he know about me? He did, didn’t he?”
“It’ll change everything.” Her voice sounded pained and I felt it. She sighed. “We said we wouldn’t dwell on the past… we agreed…”
Her eyes welled up, and I felt horrible. I felt terrible. Guilty and nasty and ungrateful.
“Just tell me,” I said. “Please, Mum, just tell me.”
She shook her head. “He didn’t… I didn’t…”
“You didn’t what?”
She breathed slowly, deeply, closed her eyes. “I couldn’t. I couldn’t tell him.”
My mouth turned dry. “About me? You couldn’t tell him about me? Why not? Why couldn’t you?” My thoughts tumbled, rolling and lurching through my brain. “You mean he didn’t know? He really didn’t know I existed? Didn’t know who I was? Didn’t know anything? Mum, I don’t understand, I don’t…” I swallowed my panic. “Why?”
“Katie, I…”
“Why?” I repeated. “Why couldn’t you tell him?”
She took a moment. “Katie,please try and understand. I was nineteen years old. I was just a kid. I was out of a job, without anyone, withouthim. I was hurt, and I was scared.That’swhy I didn’t tell him.”
The horror. It knocked me right in the gut. “You lied? To me? You liedaboutme? You lied to him?”
“I didn’t lie to you, Katie…” She looked at me, looked into me. “I just hid the truth. You were young. It didn’t seem right. It never seemed right to tell you.”
“But I knew… that he fired you… I knew he left you…”
She shrugged. “You picked bits up, eavesdropping, bits of conversations. Telephone calls with friends when I thought you were playing. You were like a sponge, sweetheart, taking everything in, but I never told you. I never lied to you, but I never told you, not about any of it. And you stopped asking, when you got a little bit older, you stopped asking.”
“But you lied tohim! You lied to him aboutme!”
“Because I was scared!” she said. “I was so scared!”
