Cam’s face is torn in two by the sadness which pushes up inside him. He steps towards me but I’m not interested in his sadness, guilt, or pity. And I’m not interested in addressing Nathan’s anger which crackles like a fire. All I care about is my son. I push Cam aside and go to Alex.
‘Alex,’ I say into Alex’s hair. ‘Listen to me. I’m sorry—’
Nathan erupts. ‘You’re sorry to him? What about me? Where’s my sorry? You lied to me. You told me you were pregnant with my child.’
‘No,’ I say sharply. ‘I told you I was pregnant and you assumed the rest.’
There’s a sweetness to spinning history like this, sweet though perhaps not edifying. I’m not proud of what I did. I’m not proud of concealing the truth from him. But I’m not ashamed either. I wanted a home for my son and I wanted Cam safe, and that’s what I got.
I think back to ten years ago to when Nathan must have worked out Alex wasn’t his. Pieces of the jigsaw are slotting into place. The sharpness. The impatient snapping and the filthy moods. The start of his affairs. The hours he spent locked away in his study with the ghost of his drog-polat father. I should have guessed. But perhaps it was wilful ignorance. Not wanting to question anything. Not wanting to risk being thrown on to the streets or sending Nathan to the police. I’m shocked to discover how angry I am. I want to scream and shout. Punch walls. Smash windows. But because of Alex I hold it in. ‘You should have told me you knew.’
Nathan scoffs and my fist balls. ‘Why would I do that? Unlike you, I’m loyal to a fault. I’d taken you both on. I was stupid enough to be duped and I would live with the consequences of that. I am a good man. I’ve always been a good man. You were my wife and he is your son. So instead of doing what most men would have done and running away—’ He glances at Cam here, one corner of his mouth raised in a sneer. ‘—I stayed and continued to provide for you, and, in spite of your malicious and heinous manipulation, love you.’
He’s standing only a few paces from the top of the stairs and I have a vivid image of running at him and slamming my weight into his chest. I imagine his arms windmilling as he struggles to keep his balance. Falling backwards. The sound of him hitting the tiles below, his head cracking like a coconut and blood collecting in the channels of grout between the flagstones.
‘Why did you lie to me? Both of you did.’ Alex looks from me to Cam. ‘I came to you,’ he says to Cam. ‘But you denied it. Why?’
Cam’s face knots in anguish. ‘I didn’t lie. I wish – more than anything – I was your father, but I’m not.’
‘Why are you still saying that?’ Alex cries.
My heart bleeds that he still doesn’t understand. That there is more for him to have to hear. I wish more than anything I could shield him from the truth, but my web of lies is unravelling and it’s inevitable.
‘He’s lying,’ Nathan spits. ‘She was pregnant before we got together. Pregnant before she sent him away. But, like an idiot, I was blind to her mendacity. She is no more than a manipulative cuckoo.’
Alex is wide-eyed with bewilderment. He looks from me to Nathan to Cam and back to me, as if being threatened from every direction with no idea which way to run.
Tears spill down my cheeks. I should say something – anything – but words won’t form.
‘And while we’re all being honest, there’s something you should know about the man who fathered you—’
‘Nathan!’ The word comes out in a screech.
The look he gives me is a mixture of pleasure and triumph. This is his finale. The moment the audience has been waiting for. The moment he gets to deliver his lethal blow.
‘He’s a murderer. A cold-blooded killer. He killed a man and dumped his body, and then he ran away like the coward he is so he wouldn’t get caught.’
Alex’s face registers confusion and he turns to me for reassurance. Cam drops his head, his hands push through his hair, raking his scalp. My mind races, still desperate to find a way out of this, to keep the cotton wool casing I’ve wrapped him in all these years intact. But I know I can’t.
The lies end here.
Cam raises his head and looks at my son with red-rimmed eyes, a film of tears across them, lips drawn tight. ‘Alex, listen I—’
I interrupt him. ‘He didn’t kill anybody.’ Cam starts to protest, but I silence him and repeat myself. ‘He didn’t kill anybody.’
‘Stop lying!’ Nathan’s face is ablaze. ‘I saw him. That man.’ He jabs the air aggressively in Cam’s direction. ‘He attacked me the same night. He’s a lunatic. I saw him with the body in his boat. I watched him take it out to sea and come back empty-handed. I saw him kill the man and dump the body. He’s a murderer, Hannah, and you know it. You can’t cover for him any longer. You know the truth. Cameron Stewart is a murderer.’
My eyes bore into his and I speak clearly and calmly. ‘Cam didn’t kill anybody. I did.’