Oh God, Chris. I can’t imagine how you feel right now. Can you do the test without her consent? Do you need to do the test? What does your heart tell you? Does it matter whose child he is? I wrote.
“I can, and I will. But having her agree would have satisfied my mind a little. I don’t think she knows who the father is. And you know what? It does matter, to me. I’ll love Alistair no matter what, but it matters, Dani. I can’t go through life not knowing.”
What if you find out he isn’t yours? How will you feel then?
“I don’t know, is the honest answer. He’s innocent in all this, but I can’t see past what Helen has done, and I don’t think I can live with her. I know I can’t forgive her. I asked her what I did wrong. I work hard, provide a nice life for us, I want to know why I wasn’t enough. I’m going to get Christmas out of the way and then make some decisions. She’s planned this fucking big Christmas with all her family, and I’m not sure I can keep up the pretence anymore.”
I was hurt by his statement. There had been no thought of Dad, or me, in their Christmas plans.
Is she still having the affair? Do you know who it is?
“No, so she says, of course. And no, she won’t tell me who it is, although I suspect it’s someone she used to work with.”
How did you find out about the affair?
“She sent him a picture on her phone. How fucking dumb is that?” His laughter was forced and full of pain.
I didn’t want to ask what kind of a picture, but it didn’t sound like the Helen I knew. She’d always been so prim, and on the nights we’d spent out on our own, she’d always been the one to avoid the crowded bars, opting for a quiet restaurant instead. I remembered a conversation where she believed a mutual friend was having an affair. She’d been so scornful of that.
“Anyway, enough of my woes. What’s going on with this?” he said, effectively shutting down any further conversation.
I paused for a moment. It wasn’t like Chris to shut me out, but then so much had happened, to both of us. We were different people.
I pointed to one of the plans that Dad had taped to the wall so we could visualise the layout. He rose, throwing the cigar box onto the workbench and walked over. He stood for a while, cocking his head to one side as he scanned over the image.
“I think that’s amazing. Whoever drew these has a great vision for this place.”
Miller did them. We had an architect but I didn’t like him.
I thrust the pad in front of him so he could read. Not for the first time did I become frustrated that I couldn’t speak out the words.
“Dani, it’s going to be amazing. A change is what we both need, I guess. I was surprised when you left London so quickly. I kind of imagined you’d want to be surrounded by the memories. I’ll confess, I didn’t understand it at first. You just walked away from a whole life, and I didn’t know how you could do that. I understand now, of course.”
He turned towards me. “I miss him, a lot.”
Christian and Trey had been great friends. They spent time going to watch rugby, sipping on a pint in a bar, or playing golf. They had been skiing together. In my grief, I guessed, I hadn’t thought of the impact on Christian. He placed his arm around my shoulders and pulled me into his side. We fell silent while we thought of Trey, as we looked at the plans.
“You never know, I might come and stay in that spare bedroom until I sort out what I’m doing. There’s something about coming home when you’re troubled that can’t be beat,” he said quietly.
You’d be welcome anytime, I wrote.
We walked back to the house and settled down for lunch. Dad had made soup that we ate with fresh, crusty rolls. Once we’d eaten, I gave Christian instructions to accept the offer on the house. I also asked if he could organise for me to visit the storage unit that housed all my possessions. There would be things I’d want, but I’d decided that the majority of it would be sold. I wasn’t wiping my life with Trey clean; I was creating a new one. Trey would forever be in my heart, my soul, and my memories, but most of what we’d owned wouldn’t fit in the barn anyway.
I stood at the door and watched Christian drive up the lane. I shed a tear for him and his situation. I shed another for baby Alistair who was caught in the middle. Dad and I sat in the living room with a cup of tea and I relayed the conversation to him.
Chapter Eleven
It was two days later that Christian called and told Dad that I’d effectively sold my house. He’d instructed a solicitor to act on my behalf and would be in touch when he had more news. He hadn’t mentioned Helen, or his situation, to Dad at all. I dug out my mobile and charger. It hadn’t been turned on for months and once it had a suitable charge, I texted him.
How are things at home?
His reply was prompt. Not good at all. New development that I can’t talk about right now. I’ll come down soon, I promise.
I wondered what the new development was and worried for him.
“I think Chris might be coming here for Christmas. Things must be really bad if he’s prepared to miss Alistair’s first Christmas,” Dad said, when I walked into the kitchen.
Did he say that? I wrote.
“Sort of. He said he was making some plans to visit over Christmas, he didn’t specify Christmas Day, and he didn’t mention Helen at all.”
Dad sat at the kitchen table and rubbed his palms over his face.
Please don’t worry, Dad. He’s a grown man; he’ll sort it out. I pushed the pad between his elbows so he could read.
“I just can’t believe what’s happened. They seemed such an ideal couple. Why would she do that?”
I don’t know. Something had to be missing in their relationship, I hope. I’d hate to think she is someone who could do that for no reason, other than self-gratification, I wrote.
Was there ever justification in having an affair? Maybe I was being too kind. To bring a child into a relationship, where the father might not actually be the father, was quite cruel in my mind. And if there was something lacking in their relationship, shouldn’t they have tried to fix it, or should she have left Christian?
Dad mumbled about needing to pay his newspaper bill. He shrugged on his jacket, wrapped a scarf around his neck, and pulled a cap from a peg in the hall. His movements were laboured and when he patted his leg for Lucy to follow, they both seemed as rickety as the other. I watched from the front door as they slowly walked up the lane.
It was as I was about to close it that I saw Daniel, casually dressed, walk past. He turned and waved. I indicated with my hands the letter T, in the hope he’d understand. He smiled and nodded enthusiastically.
“It’s a bloody chilly morning. I just saw your dad walking up the lane,” he said, as he walked through the front door and followed me to the kitchen.
I set the kettle to boil and gathered two mugs from the cupboard, while he unwrapped himself from the many layers he appeared to be wearing.
Aren’t you supposed to be wearing your uniform at all times? I wrote on my pad.
He chuckled. “I’m allowed a day off, aren’t I? To be honest, it’s nice to get out of that garb. Whoever invented the collar needs shooting.”
My jaw clicked open and my eyes widened in shock at his comment. His laughter though was infectious, and although in my head, I laughed along.
“But if I find someone who is in need while on my walks, I do have this…” He pulled his collar from his jean pocket.
Doesn’t quite go with the T-shirt! I wrote.
Daniel wore a black T-shirt with AC/DC blazoned across the front. I hadn’t taken him for a rock music fan.
“When I first arrived, I had the radio blasting out tunes from some rock station in the church while I was pottering around. Mrs. Hampton, when she came to set out some flowers, nearly had a fit.”
I guess you’re not the typical village priest, or vicar, whatever the term is.