Claire averted her gaze as Luke walked out through the front door. She didn’t want to look at him and see him for what he was, a cold-hearted liar. Just like her father? Closing the door behind him, she inhaled deeply, attempting to stop her emotion spilling over before facing her dad.
She couldn’t avoid seeing him, as he stepped out into the hall, a confused look on his face. Always it was there, his utter confusion. He hadn’t been confused once. He’d known exactly what he was doing. But she didn’t know yet. She was judging him and finding him guilty and she didn’t have all the facts.
‘Everything all right, dear?’ he asked, his eyes filled with worry as they met hers.
Claire manufactured a smile. ‘Yes,’ she managed. ‘I’m just popping to the bathroom. Won’t be a sec.’ She hurried up the stairs, leaving her dad to his own devices for a while. He couldn’t come to much harm in a few minutes. She needed some space. She needed to talk to Sophie. She needed more information.
Once in her bedroom, she wiped the back of her hand across her wet cheeks and fetched her phone from her bag. She hadn’t replied to the message about the birth certificate. Sophie had sent another since.
Can we meet and talk? she’d asked. Please? I promise you it’s the truth. Why would I have contacted you otherwise?
Claire hesitated. If only Sophie knew how much she did need someone to talk to right now. Taking a deep breath, she messaged her back. About what?
Bernard. Us, Sophie answered straight away, almost as if she’d been waiting for Claire to respond. I think you may be the only family I have. My mum died years ago, sadly.
That resonated painfully. Claire wiped again at the tears that were rolling steadily down her face. Could Sophie be telling the truth? It was possible. If there was any substance to what she was saying, though, then presumably she must have something to back it up, information about her father.
Where did they meet? she typed warily. Your mother and my father?
Mum lived in Meliton, just outside Rhyl. Bernard combined visits w/business trips, I assume, Sophie replied.
Claire felt as if she’d been punched, immediately transported back to the pretty little village pub he’d taken her to, her father chatting and smiling to the woman with the leopard-print shoes and the red-painted lips. An icy sense of foreboding ran through her.
Will message again later, she sent. She needed to digest what she’d discovered. He’d been involved with the woman. Of course he bloody well had. Swallowing hard, she glanced at the ceiling, trying to summon up the courage to go back down, talk to him as if everything was fine when it quite clearly wasn’t. Had he been in love with her? Her heart weighed heavy in her chest. Had she been the cause of the escalating arguments she’d witnessed? One of the ‘sordid little skeletons in cupboards’ her mother had referred to?
Any time, Sophie sent back. And Claire, I know you’re going through some awful stuff right now. Just so you know, I don’t want anything other than to be there for you.
Claire was about to respond, though she wasn’t sure quite how, when something slammed loudly outside. The back gate? But it was locked. She always kept it padlocked, lest her dad wander out that way. The key was on a hook inside the utility room door. She hadn’t thought he was aware of it.
She dashed to the window, cursed loudly when she couldn’t open it. That was locked too, the key missing. She didn’t keep the windows locked, though. And she would never remove the keys. She didn’t dare, in case her dad set fire to the house.
‘Dad!’ Pressing her face close to the window, she scanned the garden. There was no sign of him. ‘Dad?’ she called again, spinning round to thunder down the stairs.
Where in God’s name was he?
‘Yes, dear?’ he answered curiously from his armchair as she flew past the lounge door.