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Hannah shrugged, suddenly feeling nervous. ‘Not really. I’ve tried a few times, but she always refuses to talk about it. All I know is that you cheated on her, then moved to Spain. Isn’t that about the size of it?’
‘Yes, in its most simple form,’ said Barnaby, his voice wavering a little. ‘It wasn’t an easy decision to move here, but it was a necessary one.’
‘Necessary? In what way?’
Barnaby gave her hand a small squeeze. ‘I did have an affair – it was a moment of weakness that I profoundly regret.’ He swallowed and looked down at their clasped hands, and Hannah could feel the weight of his shame.
‘Your mother and I were having some . . . difficulties,’ he continued. ‘We both parted company with the church after she was ill, but when Luke was born she drifted back. Perhaps that was my fault and I wasn’t supportive enough, but I was working long hours, trying to keep our heads above water.’
‘I remember,’ said Hannah. At least, she remembered him not being around much after Luke was born, but actually she hadn’t been around much either. She was fourteen, in the grip of puberty and teenage angst. The house was always full of church people cooing and praying over the baby, so if she wasn’t at school she was doing homework in the library or at the club playing tennis.
‘I didn’t realise how deeply your mother had become part of that community again until I made a stupid mistake, and she turned to the church leaders for counsel.’
‘I don’t remember any of this,’ said Hannah.
‘Why would you?’ said her dad with a soft smile. ‘You were a teenager with your own interests. We kept it all as far away from you as we could. And of course Luke was just a baby.’
‘So what happened?’
‘I’d broken ties with the church by then,’ he said. ‘And after my . . . indiscretion, the leaders turned on me. They convinced your mother that you and Luke would be forever shamed by your association with me; that any contact would make you unclean.’ He turned and looked at her, his eyes willing her to understand. ‘They persuaded her to take you both to America.’
Hannah gasped, her ears suddenly feeling like they were full of water. ‘America? Are you serious?’
Barnaby nodded. ‘The church had a community there, in some big compound in Arizona. Not any more, obviously – it was disbanded some years later and the leaders charged with all kinds of awful things. I think some of them are still in prison.’
‘Mum was going to take us there?’ said Hannah. ‘To live?’
‘Yes,’ said Barnaby sadly. ‘It was all arranged. I fought harder than I’ve ever fought for anything to change her mind; I knew it would be a terrible decision for both of you. But the church had its hooks in deep.’
Hannah shook her head. ‘So why didn’t we go?’
Barnaby clasped his hands. ‘Because I did a deal. I offered to leave the country instead, and never contact either of you again. Which I’ve stuck to, mostly. You, of course, were old and stubborn enough to make your own decisions.’
Hannah stared at him with her mouth open, trying to process the magnitude of what her dad was telling her. ‘But why am I only finding this out now? Why didn’t you tell me before?’
‘I’ve been waiting for Luke to turn eighteen. I have no idea if your mother is still involved with those people, but they can’t touch Luke now he’s an adult. So I’ve fulfilled my side of the bargain.’
Hannah waved her hands like she was swatting flies. ‘I don’t . . . I can’t . . . are you saying you gave up seventeen years as our dad to protect us?’
‘Yes,’ he said quietly, his head bowed.
Hannah clamped her hand over her mouth and let out a sob.
‘Please don’t blame your mother,’ he said quickly. ‘They were terrible people, and she was vulnerable. I wasn’t a good husband and my behaviour drove her straight into their arms.’
‘What happened to the woman?’ asked Hannah, wiping the tears from her face.
‘What woman?’ said Barnaby.
‘The woman you had an affair with.’
‘Ah,’ said Barnaby, leaning forward and looking down at his feet. ‘Well, that was all part of the problem, and why the church reacted the way they did.’ He turned his face to Hannah’s and gave her a weak smile. ‘It wasn’t a woman, Hannah. It was a man.’
‘Oh,’ gasped Hannah, the final pieces of the story falling into place. ‘Why didn’t you tell me before?’
‘It was a long time ago,’ he said. ‘He was a mistake, and that situation was . . . a one-off. I thought it was what I wanted, but it wasn’t. I’ve made better choices since. All women, incidentally.’
Hannah clasped his hands in hers, wondering if she should tell him about his gay son. But it wasn’t her news to tell, and he and Luke would have a chance to talk eventually. ‘I’m glad,’ she said, suddenly making the connection from this morning. ‘Are you and Joyce . . .?’
