The Secrets We Left Behind (21 page)

He sighed heavily. ‘Want one?’ He nodded towards the bottle, and I said yes, because this was Duncan acknowledging that I was worried, and that he was with me again, back on my side.
I had a problem to deal with, therefore
we
had a problem to deal with, and he’d help me to sort it out, just as he always had done. Only this time I couldn’t tell him why I
needed that drink. He took a clean glass down from the cupboard, poured a couple of centimetres of the rich, honey-coloured Scotch and handed it to me. I took a sip. It was a single malt, the one
that Hannah and Marcus had given him on Father’s Day, and it tasted good. I felt the soothing warmth burn down my throat and into my stomach like an instant anaesthetic. That one sip was so
dangerously full of promise, the potential for oblivion. It was only in recent years that I’d really begun to understand how my mum ended up like she did.

He swirled the whisky in his glass. His face was more relaxed now, though still distressed. He’d thought I was seeing someone else; I felt chastened by the pain I’d caused, horrified
by my power to hurt him. I was relieved that he knew I hadn’t cheated on him but I wanted to say no, don’t be too relieved; don’t think I’m good after all, because I’m
not. I’m really not. I took another mouthful of whisky. What if I told him the truth? The whole truth? The idea zipped through my mind. He loved me; he would understand why I did what I did,
wouldn’t he?

‘To be honest,’ he said, ‘I find all this quite hurtful. I mean, when did we start keeping secrets from each other?’

‘I’m so sorry,’ I whispered.

‘Anyway,’ he sighed. ‘What do you think?’

‘What do I think?’

‘About him meeting Hannah. Have you said anything to her?’

‘Of course not! He can forget it, like you said. He can’t just turn up and disrupt our lives after all this time.’

‘Well, yes, but I suppose if the man’s dying—’

‘Duncan, you can’t be serious? I’m sorry he’s dying, but why should that give him the right to—’

‘I’m not thinking of him, I’m thinking of Hannah. It was different when he was the absent father on the other side of the world, but if he’s here now, and if he really is
dying, don’t you think that she—’

‘No. I don’t. Look, my own father did much the same thing, didn’t he? Buggered off to Oz and virtually forgot he had a daughter. If he’d suddenly turned up after twenty,
thirty, forty years, I wouldn’t have wanted anything to do with him, because as far as I’m concerned he doesn’t count as my father any more. He forfeited that connection, and
Scott has forfeited his connection with Hannah.
You’re
her father, for God’s sake.’

‘I know, of course I am. But what about her need to know her roots? Everyone wants to know where they come from, don’t they? And what if she found out that he was here, in the same
city as her and at death’s door, and that we hadn’t told her? She might not want to meet him, but I don’t think she’d be too impressed that she’d been denied the
opportunity to make up her own mind about it.’

‘Oh God,’ I murmured as I covered my face with my hands. He was right, and I couldn’t see any way out of it. ‘I can’t think straight; I don’t know what to
do.’

‘You’ve got to tell her, surely? Then she can decide. And if she says no, he’ll have to leave us alone. If he doesn’t, we’ll get the police involved.’

I let out a half-sob. He stood up, scraping his chair back, and came and put his arms around me. ‘Hey, come on.’ He kissed the top of my head. ‘It’s not good that he’s
turned up after all this time, and it’s bound to unsettle Hannah, but she’s a strong girl, and we’re a strong couple. What’s the worst that can happen?’

Every couple of days, Duncan asked whether I’d said anything to Hannah. ‘Not yet,’ I kept telling him. ‘I can’t just dump this on her; I’ve
got to wait for the right moment.’ I was stalling for time, I knew, still hoping I’d be able to think of something.

I made a point of trying not to call on Hannah too often because I didn’t want to be one of those mothers who was always sticking her nose in, but as I parked the car I realised I’d
not spoken to her for three days and it had been almost a week since I’d seen her. I’d been too preoccupied with Scott, and also with Duncan knowing that Scott was around. She
hadn’t rung me, though, so I assumed things were okay, but when she opened the door, I could see immediately that they weren’t. She was still in her pyjamas, her hair unwashed and
un-brushed, and her eyes were red and puffy. She looked weary and anxious.

‘I didn’t know you were coming,’ she said as I followed her in.

‘I was going to phone, but I thought you might be in the middle of feeding or something.’

‘Sorry about the mess.’ She gestured around the kitchen, which did look a bit chaotic, even for Hannah, then she sat down heavily at the table, slumping in her chair.

‘Where’s—’

‘Marcus has taken him for a walk round the park. It was supposed to be so I could go back to bed, but I can’t sleep anyway so there’s no point.’ She was looking down as
she spoke, not making eye contact.

‘Hannah, are you all right, darling? You look—’

‘Like shit. I know.’ She still didn’t look at me.

I paused, not quite sure how to handle this. It was so unlike her. ‘Shall I make us some coffee? Or a cup of tea?’

She shrugged. ‘If you like.’

I squeezed her shoulder as I went past her to fill the kettle. Why hadn’t I come round before? I could have kicked myself for leaving her this long. She was ill, depressed; I was certain
of it now. I made the coffee slowly so I had time to think. I knew from some of the young mums at the Project that you had to be careful what you said.

As I carried the mugs back to the table, I could see that her shoulders were shaking. I set the mugs down and put my arms around her. ‘Oh sweetheart, what is it? Whatever’s the
matter?’

It was a few moments before she could speak. I tore off some kitchen roll and handed it to her so she could blow her nose. ‘I don’t know what I’m doing wrong,’ she
managed to get out between sobs. ‘But he never seems to stop crying.’

‘Have you talked to the health visitor?’ I asked gently. ‘Or the doctor?’

She shook her head.

‘They might be able to suggest something that would help.’

‘Yes, but I don’t want them knowing I’m so rubbish at this.’

I laid my hand on her arm. ‘Listen, darling. You’re not rubbish at this; it’s just taking a while to get used to, that’s all. Do you think you might be depressed?
It’s quite common, you know. And it can be fairly easy to treat.’

But I wasn’t sure she was listening. The tears were streaming down her face as she balled up the kitchen towel in her hands. ‘You know,’ she said, ‘I used to think it
would be great to push the pram round the park in the afternoons, but he cries and cries the whole time, and then people look at me like I should be doing something about it but if I’ve fed
him and changed him and he’s still crying, what else am I supposed to do?’ She looked at me. ‘I had to get Marcus to take the day off today because I don’t think I could
have got through it on my own.’

‘Darling, why on earth didn’t you call me? I’d have come over straight away, you know I would.’

‘Yes, but you’ve got work and stuff and anyway, I’ve got to learn to deal with it some time, haven’t I?’ She wiped her eyes and sighed a shuddering breath.

I stood up and put my arms around her again. ‘No, darling, you don’t have to deal with this on your own. I’m so sorry – I should have come before, or phoned you at
least.’ How could I have been so preoccupied? How could I have not seen this coming? There was no way I could lay any more on Hannah’s shoulders now. ‘Have you talked to Marcus
about how you’re feeling?’

She shook her head vigorously and pulled away from me. Her eyes were glassy, the tears brimming. She reached behind her and grabbed the kitchen roll from the worktop, reeling off a few sheets
and holding them to her eyes to catch the rapidly spilling tears. My poor Hannah; my poor girl.

‘I wanted a baby so badly,’ she sniffed, ‘but I look at him and . . . and he doesn’t feel like mine. I’m trying, I really am, but, oh God, this feels such a
terrible, shitty thing to say, but I don’t think I love him.’ Her eyes slipped cautiously in my direction, checking my reaction. ‘At least, not
really;
not as much as
I’m supposed to.’ A fresh wave of tears overtook her and her shoulders heaved as she collapsed against me.

I held her tight and stroked her hair. ‘Oh Hannah.’ Instinctively, I rocked her as though she was still a child, and I did so until her crying subsided a little. After a minute or
so, she sat up, reeled off some more kitchen towel and blew her nose.

‘Don’t tell Marcus, will you? He’ll think I’m a monster, that’s if he doesn’t already.’ She looked up at me, then looked away. ‘You must think so,
too.’

‘Of course I don’t! And Marcus won’t, either. Having a baby is a massive disruption, not to mention the trauma of giving birth.’ I could hear my professional voice
creeping in. I saw this happen so often among the young mothers I looked after, but this was different, this was my own Hannah.

‘I mean, I want to do things for him, to look after him properly and stuff, but I don’t seem to be able to do anything without messing it up somehow. I can’t even feed him for
more than a couple of minutes because it hurts so much. And – and I don’t think he really likes me, anyway.’ She sighed a shaky post-tears sigh. ‘I know it sounds bonkers,
but I keep thinking it’s because he knows.’ She wiped her eyes with another sheet of kitchen paper and then twisted it between her fingers as she talked without looking up.
‘He’s all right with Marcus. The minute Marcus picks him up, he stops crying, and when he baths him or changes his nappy, he doesn’t cry at all, but when I do it, he screams. He
just senses that Marcus is his real daddy and I’m not his—’

‘You are. You’re his real mummy – don’t even consider thinking anything different! Listen,’ I said gently. ‘You need to trust yourself a bit more. I know
it’s easy to say and not so easy to do, but try not to worry so much.’ I had a sudden flash memory of watching her with him a couple of weeks ago, her jaw set tightly as she washed and
dried him, then fastened him into a new nappy, quickly, efficiently, and silently. Why the hell hadn’t I spotted it then? ‘Hannah, sweetheart, I think there’s a good chance that
you have proper postnatal depression. I think we should get you to a doctor.’

She looked up at me and her eyes started to fill. ‘But what if they take him away? Marcus adores him; he’d never forgive me.’

‘Darling, nobody is going to take him away, but you need some help now. You’re not well and it’s not your fault. ‘

She began to cry again. ‘I’ve wanted a baby almost since I was old enough to have one.’

‘I was the same.’

‘But I feel like . . . like I’ve cheated, or something; like I’m not really supposed to have him. If you’re not meant to be a mother, I mean, if nature decides
you’re not, then how can—’

‘Being a mother isn’t just about being biologically connected, you know; nor is being a father. Look at your dad; he couldn’t be any more your father if he had the same genes,
could he?’

She nodded. ‘I know, I know.’

‘And your – I’m not going to say “real” – father, well, he couldn’t have been much less of one, could he?’ I heard myself and I knew what I was
doing, but seeing Hannah’s distress only made me more angry that Scott thought he could just turn up and cause havoc without any thought of the consequences. ‘It’s about what you
do, how much you care. You’re bound to make mistakes – we all do. But we can only do what we think is the best thing at the time.’

She didn’t say anything, and my words seemed to ring in the air as though they were hanging around to taunt me. Who the hell was I to talk about being a good mother? I summoned up the
professional voice again, because in this I was justified: I was a good family support worker.

‘Hannah, trust me. You will be able to love him properly, I promise, and it’ll almost certainly start happening as soon as you stop worrying about it
not
happening. But you
need to get some help first. Let me talk to Marcus. I can come to the doctor with you if you’d like me to, and I can come and stay for as long as you need me.’

She mopped at her eyes again. ‘I bet this didn’t happen to you, did it? I mean, you’ve always said you loved me the moment I was born.’

‘Yes, I did. But that doesn’t mean . . . Well, it certainly doesn’t mean I did everything right.’

‘What sort of things did you do wrong, then?’ She sniffed. ‘I’ve never even asked you about feeding and stuff . Did you breastfeed? I bet you didn’t feel desperate
to give it up.’ She shook her head. ‘Do you know what? I went and bought a steriliser unit and bottles from Mothercare the other day, but I felt so guilty for even considering it that I
just chucked them in the back of the cupboard and didn’t even tell Marcus.’

‘Oh darling, not everyone can breastfeed for long. Some women aren’t able to do it at all. It’s nothing to feel guilty about. And you’ve given him a good start,
anyway.’

‘So how long did you breastfeed for?’

At that moment, we heard Marcus’s key in the door, swiftly followed by the sound of Toby crying. Marcus jiggled him as he brought him into the kitchen. ‘Hey, look, buster!
Grandma’s here. There you go, Grandma.’ I took him automatically. ‘Hello, my little pickle,’ I murmured, enjoying the welcome weight in my arms but suddenly aware that I
could help more by sacrificing that simple pleasure. ‘I could hold you all day, but I think your mummy needs a cuddle now.’ Hannah hesitated for a second, then took him.

‘Why, what’s up?’ Marcus asked, concern flooding his face.

‘I’m fine,’ Hannah said, perhaps more sharply than she needed to. Then she looked down at Toby and burst into tears.

*

I was still on the phone to Duncan when Marcus came back downstairs. He looked weary.
She’s asleep,
he mouthed.
Good,
I mouthed back, then turned to the
phone again. ‘Marcus says she’s asleep, so there’s not really much point in you coming over right now. I’ll call again when I’ve spoken to Marcus. Speak to you in a
bit.’ I put the handset back in its cradle.