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Back Where The Story Starts Save as PDF
Chapters (65)
  1. TITLE PAGE
  2. COPYRIGHT PAGE
  3. CONTENTS
  4. PROLOGUE
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. 49
  54. 50
  55. 51
  56. 52
  57. 53
  58. 54
  59. 55
  60. 56
  61. 57
  62. 58
  63. BOOK CLUB QUESTIONS
  64. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  65. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

‘Mummy,’ said Noah, suddenly out of nowhere standing at my side, ‘the sea’s washed away my patterns. Shall we go home now?’

55

55

LEAH – NOW

I sat in the house, the house that my father had bought for my mother but which, in fact, had never been transferred to her and was now owned by, who? Grace? Hector? Clio? Not me, that was for sure.

There were so many elements to this mess that I didn’t know which bit to think about first. Could Dad really have been married to two women at once? Ludicrous though it seemed, I had to assume that that part was true. It was hardly the kind of story that Grace would make up.

And it would explain a lot. Dad’s constant absences, the excuses, all the fuss he made of me when he was at home. What was that all about? Guilt? I felt stung by the cliché of it all. He could just have lavished me with expensive gifts and been done with it. It wasn’t like he was short of cash, which was ironic given how Mum had shopped in Kwik Save and stored up coupons.

And what about Mum? Did she know? I couldn’t believe that she did. She’d never have taken something like that lying down. Surely, if she’d found out about Dad and Grace, she’d have fought for him. Wouldn’t she have stormed round to Hartsford Hall and dragged him away home?

Then again . . . I thought about their final row, the one that I’d missed but which the neighbours had talked about afterwards in hushed tones. I’d never known what it had been about, just that it was bad enough for Dad to up and leave us. And that had been what had led to Mum’s suicide, or so I’d always thought.

But this new information cast a different light on it all. What if Mum had decided that she couldn’t go on living, not simply because Dad had left us, but because of what he had done to her? I tried to imagine the hurt, the shame, the humiliation of discovering that the man you thought you were married to was actually a figment of someone’s imagination, a fraud, fake. Ray Allen did not exist and as a consequence neither did Melissa Allen. Maybe Mum, rather than having to live with the ugly truth of that situation, had decided that Melissa Allen had to disappear too, and she’d achieved that in the most effective way she could think of.

Poor Mum, going through all that on her own and protecting me from the shame completely. Actually, though, I couldn’t help thinking that Mum had made the wrong call there. How much better would it have been for me if she had just sucked it up and got on with life without Dad? Better for me, maybe, but obviously unimaginably painful for her.