Page 31 of When We Were Young

Liv

I message Dad and ask him to pick me up from Mum’s early.

He waits until we’ve pulled away from the house before asking, ‘What happened, Liv?’

He says it in such a kind voice I burst into tears. I don’t deserve his kindness. I’m a terrible person.

He lets me sniffle for a while. I look out the window, wiping my eyes, buying time.

When we get in the house, he gives me an enormous hug in the hallway.

He rests his chin on the top of my head. ‘Talk to me.’

I don’t want to say out loud what I’ve done, but it’s easier if he can’t see my face. ‘I did something bad,’ I confess.

‘We all make mistakes. What did you do?’

I hesitate. ‘I thought Mum might have letters from Will Bailey, so I looked through the boxes in the loft.’

I brace myself for him to have a go at me, but he just sighs. ‘I’m guessing you found some?’

‘Yeah.’

‘And you read them?’

I start to cry again, and he strokes my hair.

When I try to speak, it sounds like something’s stuck in my throat. ‘I read… all of them.’

His ribs contract as he sighs again.

‘Come on,’ he says. ‘Hot chocolate will help.’

I follow him into the kitchen. ‘This might be beyond the powers of hot chocolate.’

He fills his fancy coffee machine with milk and clatters around, getting mugs from the cupboards. He’s doing that thing where he keeps quiet, waiting for me to talk – he should be a therapist. I lean on the counter, building up to it.

‘I read something in the letters…’ I say eventually, ‘That made me think you might not be my dad.’

There’s a flicker of shock in his expression before he composes himself and fixes his eyes on me. ‘I’m your dad, Liv. There’s no doubt about that.’

‘How do you know, though?’

‘Because I was there Liv, I remember it.’

I don’t want to talk to him about sex. ‘But you can’t be sure she wasn’t…’

He comes to me, takes my hand, and leads me to the mirror in the lounge. He stands behind me, his head above mine. I study our faces. We are alike. Everyone says it.

‘You have brown eyes,’ I say.

‘I know you’re mine.’ He stares into space for a moment, then snaps out of it. ‘Hot chocolate!’

Back in the kitchen, he pours hot milk into the mugs, swirls cocoa powder in mine and a shot of espresso in his.

‘Did you tell Mum about your theory?’ he asks.

‘Yeah…’

‘What did she say?’

‘She said you’re my dad, and that’s the end of it. She was more annoyed about me reading the letters.’

He slides my mug towards me. ‘You won’t let this go, will you? No matter how much we try to convince you?’

‘I don’t know how you can be so sure.’

‘Okay,’ he says. ‘We do a paternity test.’

‘What?’

‘You can get them online these days.’ He pulls his phone out of his back pocket. ‘Will that put an end to all this?’

I’m not sure how I feel about it. ‘I guess so.’

My drink is too hot. I blow in it while Dad scrolls and taps away at the screen.

‘Right, that’s ordered,’ he says. ‘Now we need to have a talk about respecting people’s privacy…’

‘Tell me what happened,’ says Chloe as we flop on her bed.

‘Remember you said there might be letters from Will at Mum’s house?’

She leans forward. ‘You found some?’

I get my phone out and call up the photos I took of all the letters. I pick one at random and zoom in.

Chloe reads it: ‘“Dear Milly” – I told you she was Milly!’

‘I know, right?’

She flicks through the photos. ‘Jeez, how many are there? What do they say?’

‘Loads. Mostly, he’s telling her how much he misses her while he’s away on tour and they’re madly in love, but then there are all these letters where they’ve broken up.

He’s apologising for all the things he’s done wrong and begging her to talk.

Here, read this one, it’s the last one.’ I hand her my phone and read over her shoulder.

18th July 1999

Dear Milly,

I know you don’t want me to contact you. This is the last letter, I promise. I don’t want to make you cry anymore. I want you to be happy.

I want you to know how sorry I am. It has been a weird few years and I’m not sure I’m coping with it all that well.

Especially now we’re not together, but I wanted to say thank you for everything and thank you for last night.

I know the circumstances weren’t great, but to be with you again and feel your body close to mine and know you cared enough to do that after everything I’ve put you through.

It meant the world to me. You mean the world to me.

I know it’s a cliché, but…

I’ll always love you,

W

x

I can almost see the cogs whirring in her brain.

‘You think he’s your dad, don’t you?’ she asks.

She’s always been able to tell what I’m thinking.

‘It had crossed my mind… He died in July 1999, and I was born in April 2000.’

She counts the months on her fingers. ‘It’s a definite possibility.’

‘But the letters say they broke up in June 1999. So he can’t be my dad, can he?’

‘Ah in that case – no…’

‘Then that letter,’ I say, pointing at my phone in her hand, ‘dated July 1999, sounds like they… well, it sounds like they did it. What do you think?’

‘Thank you for last night… your body close to mine… you cared enough to do that… sounds like it. But it’s not proof.’

‘No, it’s not proof, but it goes from him not being my dad in June to possibly being my dad in July.’

‘True,’ she says. ‘But don’t forget babies can come early or late. Did your mum ever mention that?’

‘She sometimes complains I’m always late – have been since the day I was born.’

‘Well, in that case the overlap is even bigger. And you know – no offence to your mum – she could have been sleeping with both of them.’ Chloe grimaces when she sees my horrified expression.

‘But the details don’t matter,’ she adds.

‘The fact is, it’s definitely a possibility. How do you feel about it?’

My stomach twists. ‘I don’t know… sort of… muddled up,’ I tell her. But that doesn’t really explain it. ‘I love my dad, it would throw my world upside down if he wasn’t my dad, after all. I can’t stop thinking about it.’

‘It’s just biology. It doesn’t change anything. He’d still be your dad.’

‘But it might change the way he feels about me.’ As soon as I say the words out loud, they hit me. My throat is closing.

‘Come here.’ She gathers me into a hug.

What would I do without Chloe?

‘He’s been your dad for sixteen years,’ she says into my shoulder. ‘He couldn’t forget that. He wouldn’t. It wouldn’t change the way you feel about him, would it?’

I sniff. ‘No.’

She pushes me to arm’s length. ‘And your biological dad would be a rock star.’

‘Yeah, a dead rock star.’

She lets go of my shoulders. ‘Have you talked to your mum about it?’

I tell Chloe about Mum catching me reading the letters. Her eyes grow wider with every sentence and when I tell her Mum said she killed Will Bailey, they nearly pop out of her head.

‘You don’t think she literally killed him?’

‘No. She’s not capable of that. Not on purpose, anyway.’

‘So, she feels somehow responsible?’

‘That’s what I think.’

‘But she said Scott’s your dad. Don’t you believe her?’

‘She sounded certain. That’s what she believes. But it’s my life, I need to be sure. When I told Dad, he offered to do a paternity test.’

‘Oh my God, it’s like a movie!’

‘He ordered a test kit yesterday. We’ll have to wait and see. I’ve got to try not to think about it.’

‘Good job we’ve got exams to take your mind off it then, eh?’

‘Yeah,’ I reply, deadpan. ‘Thank God.’

My first exam is tomorrow. I’m supposed to be revising, but I’m reading one of Will Bailey’s letters on my phone. As I squint at the handwriting, a message pops up on the screen.

Ella: Hey roomie, do you want this Beatland ticket or what?

I want to go to Beatland so much it hurts, but Mum would never agree to it – especially now. We’ve not spoken since the argument about the letters a week ago. She’d kill me if she knew I’d taken photos of every one of them.

The doorbell goes. I wander onto the landing as Dad answers the door.

I hear Mum’s voice. ‘Is she in?’

‘She’s upstairs revising. Come in. I’ll get her.’

‘No, leave her if she’s studying.’

‘Have a cup of tea, then she can take a break.’

Mum follows Dad into the kitchen.

I creep halfway down the stairs and wait until the kettle stops boiling.

Mum says, ‘She’s not going out too much or spending too much time with Nathan?’

‘She goes to Chloe’s to study, but you know Chloe, she’s a good influence.’

She’s come over to keep tabs on me. Right, that’s it. I’m taking that spare Beatland ticket.

I pull out my phone and reply to Ella: Count me in!

I’m going now, and there’s nothing Mum can do about it.

‘How was your date?’ Dad asks. Shit , when I told him about the man in Mum’s kitchen, I didn’t think he’d mention it to her .

‘She told you about that, did she? I knew she was pretending to be asleep!’

‘It must have gone well for you to bring the guy home.’

‘I only invited him in for coffee! And I wouldn’t have done if I’d known Liv was upstairs.’

‘Who is he?’

I sit down on the steps and press my head against the banister to hear.

‘One of the dads from school,’ she says. ‘He’s been… persistent. I thought I’d put him out of his misery.’

‘Persistence always pays off. Do you like him?’

Mum hesitates. ‘I suppose so.’ She changes the subject. ‘How’s Katya?’

I’d forgotten about Katya. She hasn’t been around at all, and Dad hasn’t mentioned her.

‘That sort of fizzled out.’

‘Sorry to hear that. That one lasted a long time – for you. Was the age difference too much for her?’

‘It was too much for me, actually.’

‘I hope she wasn’t too upset.’

‘She’ll get over me,’ he jokes. ‘So, will you see that guy again?’

‘That’s up to him, I suppose.’

‘Are you ready for a relationship now, then?’

There’s a pause, then she says, ‘I don’t feel ready, but I doubt I’ll ever feel ready.’

‘You’re ready. It’s been long enough,’ he says. ‘I’ll get Liv…’

I scamper out of sight as Dad comes out to the hallway.

‘Liv!’ he calls.

‘Yeah?’

‘Mum’s here!’

‘I’m revising!’

He lowers his voice. ‘Take a break.’

In the kitchen, Mum holds out her arms. I go to her and give her the briefest of hugs with my face turned away. Dad throws me a warning look. I don’t know why we have to pretend we’re best friends.

‘I popped over to wish you good luck for tomorrow,’ she says.

‘Thanks,’ I mumble.

‘You’ll be great. Just put in all your effort for this last push. It will be over in a few weeks, and you can forget all about it.’

‘Yeah, well, I’d better get back to it.’

Dad says, ‘Liv, weren’t you going to say something to your mum?’

‘Was I?’

‘About the other night?’ He’s pulling a weird face.

‘Oh yeah,’ I say. ‘I’m sorry about reading your letters. I shouldn’t have done that.’

For a moment, she’s not sure what to say. ‘Thanks for apologising. I’m sorry I lost my temper.’

‘I’ve got a lot to do, so I’d better…’ I jerk my thumb towards the stairs.

‘We’re so proud of you, Liv,’ she says.

Now I feel bad.