59

That Sunday Romy and Leo sat on the harbour wall. It was sunny, not as cold as it was for Grace and Finch in Derbyshire, but there was a nippy wind off the sea, nonetheless. The two barely noticed, however, they were so involved in their conversation.

‘Like a perfect storm,’ Leo said, not for the first time. As if by repeating his father’s rationale often enough, he might finally grasp the actuality of what he’d been told.

‘Perhaps it was,’ she said.

Leo turned to face her, his cheeks pink, his eyes troubled. ‘I don’t know what to do, Mum. Lucy says I should forgive him, but I think she’s got more tools for that as a Christian. And Rex isn’t much help. Dad asked me if I’d tell him, but I don’t think Rex really took it in. Like, he’s too far away for it to have an impact?’ He sighed. ‘God, how will I ever face Dad again? Knowing what he did.’

Silence fell as Romy struggled for an answer. ‘I don’t know, sweetheart. It’s hard to forgive the deed, but the man who did it is not who your father is today. He would never have been brave enough to tell you, if he was.’ She saw Leo considering this.

She had been surprised – and not without a certain respect – that Michael, after claiming he was not yet ready, had taken such a bold leap so soon. She could only guess at the courage it must have taken to confront his son with such a damning confession.

‘Just on a basic level, it’s cringingly embarrassing,’ Leo was saying. ‘He’ll know exactly what I’m thinking, and I won’t know what to say.’

‘Then leave it for a while. Dad will respect your feelings. He won’t be expecting you back, I imagine.’

Her son groaned. ‘It’s just so horrible, Mum. He’s my dad …’ His voice tailed off. ‘I wish to hell I didn’t know. It was my own stupid fault. I should never have kept pushing. I wish we could go back to how it was before. We were getting on better than we ever had in our whole lives.’

‘Well, maybe what you’ve built with your father is strong enough …’ Her son didn’t reply, just leant in to her and laid his head wearily on her shoulder. ‘You know you’ve been wonderful these last few months,’ she added. ‘You really stepped up to the plate in such a fantastic way.’

Leo straightened up and gave her a wry grin. ‘Sounds like I surprised you, Mum.’

Romy smiled. ‘Put it this way, I always knew you could, but it was a very big ask, for all of us, coping with your dad.’

Leo didn’t speak for a moment. Then he said, his voice tinged with cynicism, ‘Yeah, turned out to be a bigger bloody ask than I could ever have imagined.’ There was a long pause, during which neither of them spoke. ‘But Dad’s obviously contrite,’ he added. ‘He even said he intends to write and apologize to Grace.’

Romy raised a sceptical eyebrow. ‘Would he do that? It’s evidence, and he’s a lawyer.’

Her son shrugged. ‘He sounded pretty convincing.’

As she saw Leo off on the London train, Romy really felt for her son. He’d looked so preoccupied, so bewildered as he’d tried to work out what best to do. But although she sympathized wholeheartedly with his desire not to know something so dreadful about a parent, she was convinced it was better this way. Better than allowing the secret to fester indefinitely, like a piece of rotting meat, sitting at the centre of all their lives.

Selfishly, she knew Michael’s confession to Leo had cut the last thread that bound her to that secret. Despite Leo’s distress, she couldn’t help feeling an overwhelming sense of relief, realizing for the first time just how much it had cost her – since the letter – not to be honest with her sons. Now, at last, she could put Michael’s crime behind her. She hoped, eventually, that he would write to Grace. She hoped Leo would come round – he was a kind man and he loved his father. But it was out of her hands now.

Thank God I don’t have to go back to the flat tonight, she thought, as she walked briskly through the village – her village, now – and opened the front door to her cosy cottage. Tonight felt like a full stop on her past.