I sighed, loudly. “Uh Oh, that doesn’t sound good,” he said.
“How do I know she’s telling the truth, Miller? Surely I would have noticed something in my marriage. They were together two years, how did I miss that? There’s a large part of me that thinks this is all too convenient. He’s dead; he can’t answer any allegations. What’s to say she picked him instead of the real one so Christian couldn’t confront whoever it was?” I knew I was rambling but all my fears seemed to tumble out.
“What does your gut tell you?”
“My gut? My gut went into meltdown when they died, I couldn’t trust one instinct of mine right now. Half the time, I don’t know which way is up. I spend most days lying to everyone, and myself, about how I feel. Right now, either I’m in denial of something so bloody obvious, or I’m right. Figure that one out.” I laughed at the absurdity of it all.
“Christian said that she admitted it, he found some letters, or something?”
“He did, but the contact name in her phone was Kitt. Trey never had a nickname. Not once in five years had I heard that name being used by anyone. I mean, what kind of a nickname is that, anyway?”
“What about the child?”
“She said that Trey was the father. How would she know, for fact? Chris didn’t say that she’d had some sort of test done, but she was certainly screwing two men at the same time. I’m going to book an appointment at the storage facility, I want to see if I can find anything.”
“Who packed up your house?”
I paused and stared at him. He glanced over when I hadn’t answered as quickly as he expected.
“They did.”
Did that mean that any evidence that could have been in my belongings would no longer be there?
I slumped back in my seat. “I don’t know what to believe. Like I said to Dad, if it’s true, the last two years of my life has been a lie.”
“I can understand you wanting proof. I’ll go with you to the storage facility if you want, maybe a guy, or someone unconnected, might spot something you’d miss.”
“That’s kind of you. I have no idea where it is, I can only assume in London somewhere. Christian sorted it all out. I accepted an offer on my house, I’m hoping that will go through soon, but I don’t want to go back there. Especially now.”
Miller held out a bottle of water that he’d retrieved from the pocket in his door. I looked at him, my brow in a frown.
“You’re getting a little high-pitched, I don’t want you to screw up your voice. It’s nice to hear you talk so much.”
I took the bottle from him and swigged at it. “Do you think I’m talking too much?” I asked.
“I think you have every right to talk too much right now. You’ve not been able to for months. I imagine you’ve got a lot of words to get out.”
I hadn’t taken any notice of where we were headed until we bumped over a few sand dunes and weaved our way along a small beach.
“Are you allowed to drive on the beach?” I asked.
“I don’t see anyone about to stop me.” He gave me a wink.
I could see a small shack ahead, it looked pretty rundown but a metal chimney protruded from the top, and smoke bellowed out. Miller pulled the truck to a halt alongside it. The shed was larger than I had originally thought and I saw a handmade sign on the front.
“The Smoke Shack?” I questioned.
“Best smoked fish you’ll ever find. Best smoked meats, as well.”
Miller opened his door and began to walk around to my side. He hadn’t finished crossing the front before I was out and zipping up my jacket. He held out his hand and I took it without thinking.
“Follow me,” he said.
He bashed on the side of the shed before walking to the door at the other end. It was opened by a guy who looked like he was still backpacking around the world in the 1970’s. He had long, straggly hair that matched a beard I was concerned about. I was sure I could see food among the bristles.
They did that man thing—a sort of handshake, chest bump, and called each other ‘bro.’ It amused me.
“Dani, this is China.”
“China?”
“Don’t ask, China, this is my friend, Dani. I don’t believe she has ever tasted what delights you have going on today.”
“Well, you better come on in then,” China said.
I was taken aback. China, and it was the strangest name I’d heard, had the poshest voice I’d ever encountered. He had pure, crystal cut glass pronunciation. We followed China into the shack and I had to dodge fish and meat hanging from a rack suspended from the ceiling. I would imagine the Environmental Health Department would have a field day, should they ever visit. The smoke I’d seen earlier seemed to come from a floor-to-ceiling wooden cabinet. He opened the top door and slid out a wooden rail. Fish hung from the rail. He unhooked a pair of what I assumed to be mackerel and laid them on fresh napkins before handing them to us.
“How about some ham? I’ve been experimenting with this one. It’s smoked, obviously, with a homemade marmalade coating. I need to know how the marmalade works for you.”
China started to carve some meat from the leg of ham.
“China did an amazing tea-smoked ham,” Miller said, tearing off a piece of ham and popping it into his mouth.
I pulled a little of the fish from the napkins and it was just wonderful. A burst of oak, of a subtle charcoal, and of course, the mackerel not only coated my taste buds but the scent drifted to my nose.
“This is good!” I said.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have many things to get done today,” China said, ushering us to the door.
“He might be the best smoker in the area, but manners, despite his very privileged upbringing, are not his forte,” Miller said, laughing.
I followed Miller out onto the beach and the door was slammed shut behind us.
“What a strange man,” I said.
“Yep! Smoking fish and meats isn’t all he smokes,” Miller said, laughing.
“Hold this.” Miller handed me the ham while he opened the rear door of the truck.
He pulled out a blanket and spread it on the ground by the wheel.
“Sit,” he said.
We sat with our back resting on the truck wheel and ate. The breeze caught my hair and many times I had to stop eating to pull strands from my mouth. Miller stretched out his legs and fished around in his pocket. He pulled out an elastic band, which he handed to me.
“You carry a hairband around with you?” I said, astonished.
“I happen to have an elastic band in my pocket. It bound the mail today and I just slipped it in my jeans, not thinking.”
“Well, I appreciate it, thank you.”
I placed the fish on the blanket and tied my hair back at the nape of my neck.
“So…” Miller said, swapping the fish for the ham.
“So…” I replied.
“I spoke with the planning officer. I wanted to get a feel of where they are with regards to applications. Doesn’t appear they have a huge list to work through, but I don’t see us getting an answer this side of the new year.”
“Okay, I guessed as much.”
We fell into a comfortable silence for a while.
“How do you do a DNA test?” I asked.
“You’d need a sample of hair or saliva, I think. Why?”
“I’m going to insist on a DNA test, see if Alistair is Trey’s son.”
“Can you do that?”
“I don’t know, I mean, I guess I can. Why wouldn’t I be able to?”
“I’m not sure, I can’t imagine anyone can request one. Would she agree?”
Without warning, a sob welled up inside me. “How the fuck didn’t I know?” I said between tears.
“Oh, Dani. Maybe you just didn’t see any signs because there wasn’t any. Why should you know? If it’s all true, they were very clever about it.”
Miller took the food from my hand and placed his arm around my shoulder, I gently fell against him and cried.