Hannah was sitting with her head in her hands at the kitchen table, sobbing over Diane’s letter to Mark. She’d found it a few minutes earlier when she’d picked his jacket off the chairback with the intention of hanging it up. Now the jacket was lying discarded on the floor next to her feet as she fought to absorb the enormity of the betrayal she’d just discovered.
Mark appeared in the doorway. ‘Hannah,’ he said, causing her to look up and see him through the blur of her tears. Sorrow, disbelief and hatred all fought for precedence in her befuddled mind. ‘I can explain,’ he said. ‘It’s not what—’
‘How could you?’ she spat. ‘With her of all people? And to keep it from me all of these years! I thought you loved me; that you were different from all the other guys. And there you were, having an affair with my sister under my nose. What was it: some kind of gross twin fantasy you needed to fulfil? You disgust me! You even gave her a child, Mark. The very thing you always denied me. That you said you never wanted. I feel sick to my stomach.’
‘Listen, Hannah. You have to—’
‘I don’t have to do anything you say,’ she replied, shouting now, fury taking charge. ‘You’ve betrayed me. Totally and utterly. You’ve been lying to me for years. How long did it go on for – and how many others have there been? Don’t you dare lie to me.’
‘It was j-just once,’ Mark stuttered. The blood had drained from his face and there was terror in his eyes, but at that moment she felt nothing but contempt for him. ‘I swear to you, Hannah. It was a terrible mistake. I—’
‘How many others?’
‘None. That’s it, I promise you. I can tell you the details if—’
‘No, shut up, Mark!’ Just the thought of that made her want to gag. ‘Are you sick in the head? Why on earth would I want to know any of the details?’
‘Um … sorry.’
‘Don’t you dare apologise. You can stick your apologies up your arse. So when you stayed there the other night – at Diane’s house – did you sleep with her again for old times’ sake? Is that why she killed herself, Mark? What the hell did you do?’ Hannah raised her hands over her head before slamming them back down, balled into fists, on to the tabletop. ‘How is this happening to me?’
Tears started pouring down her cheeks again. As much as she wanted to, Hannah couldn’t stop them. But still she blinked over and over again, determined to stay strong. She kept her gaze firmly locked on the man she’d always loved and trusted above anyone else, demanding to know why he’d betrayed her.
Meanwhile, Mark remained rooted to the spot. He looked pathetic: like a child caught stealing from his mother’s purse. Hannah watched him grab the edge of the nearest work surface and squeeze it with his trembling fingers, as if clinging on for dear life. She felt zero sympathy.
‘Well?’ she snapped, making him jump. ‘Why did she kill herself, Mark? What did you do?’
He cleared his throat before replying in a shaky voice: ‘I didn’t do anything to her, Hannah, I swear. And no, of course I didn’t sleep with her. That only ever happened once, around fifteen years ago, and never again. It was a terrible, terrible mistake I’ve regretted ever since. I don’t know why she killed herself. She was cagey about what was going on with her and when Mia would be able to return home. She seemed a bit on edge, sure, like she did when she turned up here. But I had no idea what she was going to do. I wouldn’t have left her alone if I had.’
‘Are you sure about that?’ Hannah asked.
‘Of course.’
Unable to look at this pathetic creature – her so-called husband – for a moment longer, Hannah took her head in her hands and started rocking backwards and forwards in her chair. Who could she turn to now for comfort and support? How could she ever trust anyone again?
Neither of them spoke another word for some time. Hannah realised her initial anger had mutated into something else – a kind of detached numbness – when she eventually asked: ‘Does Mia know?’
‘Um, no. I don’t think so,’ Mark replied. ‘I certainly haven’t told her and Diane said she hadn’t either. To be honest, I’ve only got Diane’s word that I am her father. I didn’t believe her at first, particularly as it only happened once. I obviously wondered when she fell pregnant and then when Mia was born, but she, er … she always maintained someone else was responsible. Until that letter.’
‘All these secrets you’ve been keeping from me,’ Hannah said in little more than a whisper. ‘For all this time. And there was foolish, stupid little me thinking we shared everything. What a mug I’ve been.’
Hannah watched Mark’s eyes fall on his abandoned jacket, still lying where she’d dropped it on the floor. Was he berating himself for his mistake in leaving it in the kitchen, allowing her to discover the letter? The thought of that being his main concern right now sent a fresh chill through the ice already encapsulating her heart. Well, she for one was glad he’d finally tripped up. As broken and battered as she currently felt, at least she now knew the truth. Remaining in the dark would have been infinitely worse. And Mark clearly wouldn’t have told her otherwise. Why would he after he’d already got away with it for so many years? In different circumstances, she may never have found out – and the thought of that made her sick to her stomach.
‘You’ll have to tell her,’ she said in a clinical tone, staring straight ahead rather than looking at him.
‘What, now? Is that the best idea in the circumstances?’
She scowled at him before looking away again. ‘No, obviously not now, but soon. It’s only a matter of time until she starts asking about her father anyway.’
‘Right, but what if it isn’t me? Like I said, I don’t—’
‘Be quiet!’ Hannah snapped, startling herself with the frosty bite of her voice. ‘That’s not my concern. Not my problem. It’s your mess: you work out what to do. I need to get away from you. I can’t bear to look at your lying face any more.’
With that, she slid her chair out from under the table, rose to her feet and stormed out of the kitchen, slamming Diane’s letter into Mark’s chest as she passed him.