“I know who she was having an affair with,” he said, not looking at me, but staring out into the distance.
He didn’t wait for me to find my pad to reply. “I found a photo she’d sent, it was old, that’s how it all started. The receiver had a nickname and I didn’t twig at first. She admitted the affair right off, said it was a one off thing, the usual shit one says when caught out. But then, the other day, I found some letters hidden in the bottom of the closet in the spare bedroom. I was trying to find some old trainers that I used to wear for the gym, they were more comfortable than my new ones.”
He paused, as if wanting to check himself.
“Anyway, I found some letters, signed off with a nickname and then it hit me. I knew the name. I confronted her with the letters; the dates went back two years, Dani. Two fucking years they’d been screwing. I asked her if Alistair was mine.” At that point, he looked at me with tears coursing down his cheeks.
“She said, no. I’m not sure how she can prove it, unless she’s already had Alistair tested. I flipped, I tore the letters and threw them on the fire, and she fucking had the gall to cry and try to retrieve them from the embers. I know why, of course. It’s all she has of him, I guess.”
My mind wasn’t keeping up with the speed he was speaking, but a sinking feeling began to form in my stomach. I placed my hand on his arm and squeezed, I wanted him to look at me. He did, and I wished he hadn’t.
Anger laced his face, but not just anger. Was it pity? Was it disbelief, even? Because I was sure disbelief reflected back at him from mine. I stared at him for the longest moment, waiting. He opened his mouth to speak; the words didn’t come. He closed his eyes and I watched the teardrop roll so gently down his chapped cheeks. Cheeks already so tear-stained the skin was red and sore.
“Trey is the father of Alistair,” he said.
I don’t think I moved, my body froze, other than my heart, which pounded so hard I could hear a pulse in my ears.
“I didn’t want to tell you but it’s going to come out. I’m divorcing her, she admitted it, I fucking…”
A scream bounced off the walls and the trees that lined it. It echoed back from the expanse of space to one side of me, where the cliff ended and the sea raged beneath it. My vision clouded. I saw Christian stand straight but that was all. I felt hands on my arms but I twisted myself free. The scream continued and it confused me. I wasn’t sure where it was coming from, initially. It was only when my throat became so sore, and my mouth dry, that I realised it was from me.
“No,” I shouted, surprising myself. “No. No. No.”
“Dani, please. I’m so sorry. I have all the evidence; she admitted it. I found photographs.”
He hadn’t mentioned photographs before. I believed every word he’d told me, then.
I ran into the cemetery and fell to my knees in front of Trey’s grave. I pounded on it with my fists, I scratched at his name until my fingernails broke and bled. Blood smeared, giving me the satisfaction that his name was being obliterated from the white marble.
“You fucking piece of shit. How could you? How could you be buried with my daughter after what you’d done?” Despite realising it had been me that screamed, my tone of voice shocked me.
I clawed at the earth under the headstone. I didn’t want my baby in the ground with him. I dug up the plants I’d laid and threw them across the way. All the time I cursed and shouted at him.
I fell back on my arse and kicked at the headstone, smearing earth over his name. That was until Hannah’s name caught my eye. I reached forwards, trying to clean the mess I’d made over her precious name. I pulled the sleeve of my jacket over my hand and rubbed as hard as I could. Then I attacked the earth again. I grabbed handfuls of earth and threw them. I pulled at the grass that had grown trying to…In fact, I wasn’t sure what I was trying to do.
Arms reached around from behind and by the strength, I knew them not to belong to Christian. I was lifted from the ground and hauled backwards. I fought. I didn’t want to stop my digging. I screamed some more and dug my nails into my captor. I kicked backwards satisfied at the grunt as I caught a shinbone.
“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” I heard. I recognised the voice but not why Miller was trying to stop what I was doing.
“Let me go!” I shouted.
“No, trust me, Dani, please?” It was a pleading that I wanted to obey but just couldn’t.
“Get him away from my daughter!” I screamed, my voice becoming so hoarse from excessive use after so long of silence.
“Dani, I’m going to set you down now, and I want you to look at me, okay?”
Miller lowered me so my feet touched the ground; he turned me, still holding on as tight as he could. I stared into his face, one as grief-stricken as I imagined mine to be.
“Breathe, Dani.”
I gasped for air, and then the sobbing came. I collapsed against his chest; thankful he was holding me up. I didn’t want to fall on the grave of a traitor. I didn’t want to be that close to him.
Miller wrapped his arms around me so tightly I couldn’t move. He rested his chin on top of my head and I could hear him whisper but not make out the words.
We stayed that way for what felt like ages. Eventually, exhaustion overwhelmed me and I passed out.
I heard myself crying, sobbing, but my body felt so heavy and my eyelids remained firmly closed. I knew I was being carried, I could feel Miller’s chest under my cheek. I could hear voices, Christian and Miller, and another that was distant. I was jolted as Miller jogged along, I assumed. I knew I was back home, the gate gave a familiar creak and then it was warm.
I was laid on a bed, mine by the lavender scent I’d place on the pillow to aid sleep. I curled into a ball. I felt my boots being removed. My jacket was tugged from my body and a comforter was placed over me.
“Baby?” My dad’s heartbroken voice penetrated my sobs. I reached out and took his hand. I wanted him to know I’d heard him.
After a while I opened my eyes, they were sore, sticky, and swollen. My dad sat on a chair beside me, and behind him, Miller sat on the floor with his back resting against the wall.
“Dad?” I croaked out.
“Oh, my baby. I’m so sorry, so so sorry,” Dad said. His voice broke and fresh tears streamed down my face.
Miller stood and walked over; he sat on the edge of the bed and pushed back some sodden hair from my forehead. It was a gentle gesture that I wasn’t sure the meaning of.
“I’d like to come back later, when you’ve had a chance to talk to your family. Is that okay?” he asked. His low-toned voice rolled over me, comforting. I nodded my head.
I watched him leave. “Where’s Christian?” I asked.
“Downstairs. I can’t console him. I’ve tried. Oh, God, I don’t know what to do,” Dad said, and the tears that then rolled down his cheeks crucified me.
I glanced at the clock on the bedside cabinet. It had been four hours since Christian and I had left the house. Had I slept? I straightened myself and sat up.
“Let’s go down, Dad,” I said.
He nodded, not making mention of the fact my voice was back. Shock had taken it away, and shock had brought it back, at the worst possible time.
Christian stood when he saw me at the doorway, he rushed forwards but then hesitated, not sure what to do. I stepped into his arms and wrapped mine around his waist. We held each other and we cried yet again.
“I swear, I didn’t want to tell you, but then I was scared how you’d feel if I’d kept that from you as well,” Christian whispered.
“You had to tell me. And now you have to tell me all of it,” I said.
“I don’t know…”
“You have to. I need to know, Christian. I need to know everything.”