‘I can’t even begin to imagine what you must be going through,’ Jess said, following him. ‘I mean, I know Luke’s death has devastated you both, but it must be so much harder on a man, when you’re supposed to be the strong one, holding everybody else up. I could see how upset you were today. I just wanted you to know you have a shoulder, if you need one.’
‘Thanks, Jess,’ Justin said distractedly, and then, running a hand wearily over his neck, he headed for the drinks table.
Pouring a large whisky, which he felt badly in need of after the day’s events, his gaze fell on one of their old Adele CDs that Sophie had left on the table. Would she get through this? Would he ever hear her sing again? They’d never derided her ambition to be a pop artist. She emulated Adele so beautifully; if Justin closed his eyes, he really believed it was her. She was good, though she probably needed to hone her individuality. He’d been partway through converting the basement into a studio – that was going to be his present to her for her sixteenth birthday. Now, he had no idea what the future would hold.
Taking a long drink of the whisky, which burned the back of his throat but did nothing to warm him, he placed the glass back on the table, stared at it for a second and then braced himself. ‘Can I ask you something, Jess?’ he said, looking cautiously towards her.
‘Anything,’ Jess assured him.
Justin doubted she’d be so ready to answer when she heard the question. ‘Sophie…’ He paused, not sure he actually wanted to hear the answer. ‘Is she mine?’
‘What?’ Jessica paled.
‘You’re closest to Alicia, Jess,’ Justin went on quietly. ‘I have to know. Am I Sophie’s father?’
Hearing himself speak the words, Justin felt like a complete bastard. How was he supposed not to ask though? He’d gone over and over it. Radley had worked with Alicia sixteen years ago, when she’d been with the financial services company. Justin remembered it well, the details brought sharply back into focus by the man’s reappearance. It had been then that he’d lost his family. Then that, spiralling into a depression he couldn’t seem to climb out of, he’d pushed Alicia away, rather than reach out to her. He’d finally woken up to the fact that he’d been so immersed in his grief he was paying no attention to her needs when she’d started staying out: spending nights with a girlfriend, she’d said. He’d hated himself for it, but he had wondered whether that was the truth. She’d had every reason to give up on him. With his emotions all over the place, he’d been impossible to live with. He’d tried to convince himself he was being paranoid, his suspicions based on nothing but the fear of losing her, too. They’d got through that rocky period. They’d been a strong family unit ever since. He’d thought they had. It had taken him a while, though, to stop looking for the signs.
Something else had also occurred to him as he’d walked, something which had turned his gut inside out. Justin had noticed it when Radley had been watching him, a challenge in his eyes, at that fateful party: the man’s eyes were brown. Striking brown. Sophie’s eyes were a rich chestnut brown, where his and Alicia’s were blue. Genetically speaking, it was rare, though it was possible. He’d tried to rationalise it, but now… Was he being paranoid all over again? The fact that Radley seemed to pop up wherever Alicia was, was he imagining that? Imagining the fact that the man was all over her? Justin thought not. He hoped to God he was wrong.
His heart constricting painfully, he waited for Jessica to answer.
Jessica, though, didn’t seem to want to answer, looking away instead, looking anywhere but at him. Looking guilty. ‘You need to talk to Alicia,’ she said, eventually.
And Justin knew. Without a doubt, he now knew what he so desperately didn’t want to. Already bursting with grief and guilt, his heart damn near exploded.
Sixteen
SOPHIE
Sophie stopped in the hall, hardly able to breathe as she tried to digest what she’d just heard. Shaking her head in bewilderment, she swallowed hard and stepped closer to the partially open lounge door.
‘Why the hell didn’t she tell me?’ she heard Justin say angrily from inside.
‘I don’t know,’ Jess answered, sounding frantic. ‘I don’t know if there’s anything to tell. I know she was unhappy at one point, but she never talked to—’
‘Bullshit!’ Justin cut furiously across her. ‘What am I supposed to do with this, Jess, hey? I mean, what? Carry on as if it’s an inconsequential little detail she forgot to mention? Be there for her and pretend it’s not killing me that I’ve lost my son and my daughter? Jesus Christ. How? Does she even want to be with me?’
‘Justin, please… You need to ask Alicia. Now’s not the time to go into any of this.’
Justin laughed cynically at that. ‘No, you’re right,’ he said bitterly. ‘There never was a right time, I suppose. Not when she was carrying the child she forgot to mention wasn’t mine. Not when she gave birth to her. Not when I held her for the first time, swore to devote my life to protecting her. How about before I walk her down the aisle? How about then, Jess? Will she tell me, do you think, as the bastard who had his eyes and hands all over her steps in to take my place?’
‘Justin, what am I supposed to say?’ Jessica beseeched him. ‘She’s my sister. I can’t betray her trust.’
‘How long did it go on?’ Justin demanded, and then laughed again bitterly. ‘Christ, I must be fucking blind. It’s still going on, isn’t it?’
Sophie stopped listening. Clamping her hands hard to her ears, tears streaming unchecked down her face, she whirled around to fly upstairs to her bedroom.
He wasn’t her father. She felt as if her world had just been ripped from underneath her. Gulping back a sob, she clutched her tummy tight. She felt so nauseous she was sure she was going to throw up. How long had he suspected? How long had he been reluctant to talk to her, to look at her properly? And he had. She’d sensed it. When she’d needed him most, when she’d had nothing but ghosts for company, Luke haunting her dreams, he’d been distant. Not just distracted, but different.
And she… her so-called mother… Sophie had been so worried for her, hurt so much for her, but she obviously didn’t care about anyone! Liar! Lies. All of it.
Who, then, was her father? Who had her mother had some furtive, dirty affair with, while married to the man she’d passed off as her dad? Was it someone Sophie knew? The milkman? The postman? The fucking odd-job man?
It was sick! Sick and disgusting and sad. Why would he put up with that? Why? Stuffing things randomly in her overnight bag, Sophie snatched it up, swiped a hand across her cheeks and headed for the door. She couldn’t talk to him. She just couldn’t. She couldn’t bloody well breathe. Stopping halfway across the room, she paused and scrutinised herself in the mirror. She didn’t even look like him.
She had no idea who she was.
Choking back another sob, she wondered at the cruelty of this happening on the same day they’d buried her baby brother. Half-brother. That realisation hitting her like a blow to the chest, Sophie determined she would never trust either of them again. Ever.
She had to get out. Going with Jessica was her best hope of avoiding him, her father who wasn’t her father and was clearly furious at being deceived into thinking he was. He was probably planning how fast he could get away.
Away from her.
She needed to speak to her mother. She wanted explanations, as if there could possibly be any. But not here. Not now. They’d probably be so busy arguing, or more likely not talking to each other, they wouldn’t even notice her.
Seventeen
JUSTIN