He stepped back and put his hand to his brow then, as if falling, sat down and grasped the edge of the table.
I didn’t move to help him, but looked on and watched.
Once he’d gathered himself he looked at me. His face had fallen and he had a ruined look about him.
Half-heartedly he asked, ‘What’s this all about?’
It was written all over his features that he knew what was occurring. He just didn’t want to have to deal with it.
‘This,’ I spat and threw the document onto the table. While watching him I’d unconsciously screwed it up into a ball. I hadn’t meant to. I didn’t want it to look like disrespect but my fists had clenched down hard. And suddenly it was there. In the middle of the table.
Separating us.
The lie.
Dad cleared his throat. He was pale. ‘What is it?’ he asked, staring at me, squarely into my eyes.
I wanted to look away but I wasn’t that weak.
‘You know what it is,’ was all I said.
Dad exhaled steadily. I watched his white linen shirt rise to take in the next breath, then hold it like he was never going to let go. Then he said, ‘Oh.’
As simple as that. ‘Oh.’
I was so appalled I let my hand slam down on the table, drawing glances from the landlord and regulars. Dad waved them back.
For a long minute we looked at each other like there was no one else in the room.
Dad’s chestnut eyes were welling up, stricken by emotions nobody else would ever be able to understand. All I could say was ‘They’re brown. Your eyes. Mine are grey. Why didn’t I get it?’
Then, before I knew what I was doing, I got up and marched out of the door.
I could hear the people in the pub murmuring and the shouts of Dad to come back but I couldn’t stop myself. Really, all I wanted was a denial. Some kind of explanation that would lay the rogue document to rest. A straightforward explanation that it was a joke or a fake. But his reaction had been authentic and now I knew in my heart he was not my father.
I made out towards the reservoir, rushing over grasses and bushes but not seeing or feeling a thing.
After a while he must have caught up with me because I felt his hand on my arm. I wrenched it away but he clung on and brought me to him. As old as he was he was still strong, and surrounded me with his arms. And though I struggled, my heart was not in it. Trapped in his embrace I submitted to his overarching hug.
And while the wind and the reeds shushed us I clung for dear life to this man, now a stranger to me.
We didn’t move from the spot, but sat down there. Dad gave me a hanky.
I wasn’t speaking.
After a decade he said, ‘You’re my daughter, no matter what you may come across. I have raised you. You are my child.’
I was confused and said, ‘But I’m not. Not literally, am I?’
Dad’s voice was calm. ‘There’s no biological link, it’s true. But you are mine. You always have been. All that nappy changing counts for something, you know.’
I rolled over on the grass and knocked down a reed. One of the rushes was digging into my thigh so I snapped it and threw it ahead. ‘Who is my dad then?’
He looked away and said, ‘I don’t know.’
I snorted. ‘Really?’
‘No.’
‘What do you know?’
He sighed heavily. ‘Where did you find it?’
‘Underside of her jewellery box.’
‘Oh,’ he said again.
I said, ‘Why didn’t you ever tell me? Loads of people have stuff like this … Adoption and stuff. It’s not the fifties for God’s sake. I mean, some of my friends have had single mothers and don’t know their fathers. They’ve never been misled.’
He held his hand up to silence me. It was a commanding move and it worked.
‘You think I didn’t want to tell you? Mercedes, there have been so many times when I could have just said it.’
I stared at the reservoir. Wind was rippling across the surface of the water. A family of ducks swam into the reeds. ‘Uncle Roger knows doesn’t he?’
He didn’t say anything.
‘He said to me, at his birthday, that I wouldn’t be a match if I donated my kidney. I thought it was a polite way of declining my offer. But now … Why didn’t you tell me?’