‘Did he say anything to her?’ asks Jess frantically. ‘Anything at all?’
‘About what?’
‘Me!’ exclaims Jess. ‘Did he say anything about me?’
Lauren lets out a derisory laugh. ‘Do you honestly believe that your name would be the first to leave his lips when he was dying? Before his wife and the two daughters he brought up?’
Jess bites down on her lip and Lauren immediately feels remorseful. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—’
‘I know what you meant,’ says Jess tearfully. ‘I just thought it might have been the moment that he told the truth. That he might have redeemed himself and confessed the secret he’s been hiding for twenty-two years.’
‘I’m sorry,’ says Lauren. ‘It was very quick, and he never regained consciousness. If it’s any consolation, none of us got to say goodbye.’
Jess sniffs and puts her head in her hands.
‘You look like me,’ blurts out Lauren. She’d not meant to say it out loud.
‘I know,’ says Jess, looking up, with the tiniest hint of a smile.
‘Did you ever meet him? Do you remember anything about him?’ asks Lauren.
Jess stands up and walks to the front window. The light is fading and the street lamp outside the house is burning with a low orange light.
‘No.’
Selfish relief rushes out of Lauren’s body as her overactive imagination is silenced. She was worried that Jess would have memories that she didn’t want to hear. She couldn’t bear to think about her father bouncing her up and down on his knee, or taking her to the zoo with another woman.
‘I can’t believe he’s gone,’ says Jess, as another tear falls onto her cheek. ‘I had so many questions to ask him. So many things I wanted to say.’
Lauren forces herself to stay where she is, even though every natural fibre in her body makes her want to reach out to the broken young girl in front of her.
‘Could your mother not help you?’ asks Lauren. ‘Might she be able to fill in some of the gaps?’
Jess pulls herself up, taking a deep breath. ‘She might, if I knew who she was. I was given up for adoption when I was a baby.’
A heaviness weighs down on Lauren’s chest at the thought of what this young woman has been through. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she says.
‘Don’t be,’ says Jess, with a hollow laugh. ‘It was for the best. For whatever reason, my birth parents obviously didn’t feel they could care for me in the same way that someone else could. And I’m truly grateful to them for that. I’ve had a good life, probably better than they could ever possibly have given me. My adoptive parents were amazing. I couldn’t have asked for a better start in life. They’ve given me the best of everything.’
Lauren smiles, consoled by the image of a baby being rocked in the arms of parents who really loved and wanted her. A couple who had fought long and hard, with a courage and determination that most birth parents didn’t need to possess, because everything they’d wanted had come naturally to them. People like her father, who’d had a baby with reckless abandon, but who was too cowardly to take responsibility for it.
Shame threatens to overwhelm her as she contemplates how he could have let his own flesh and blood go through the trauma of an adoption, just because he wasn’t man enough to tell his wife what was going on. Who knows what might have happened if he had? Perhaps the three girls could have grown up as sisters, rather than endure the shock of finding each other twenty-two years later.
‘I’m so pleased to hear that,’ says Lauren eventually.
‘If only I’d found him earlier,’ says Jess, blowing her nose into a tissue. ‘I had so many things to ask him. Now I’ll never get the chance.’
‘You can ask me,’ says Lauren, softening to Jess’s plight. ‘I might not have all the answers, but I can certainly try and build you a better picture of who he was.’ Though even as she’s saying it, she wonders how well she really knew her father after all. Her childhood memories of him jar noisily against those from her adult years.
Lauren remembers the night a woman came to the door, crying hysterically and demanding to see him. Her mother had done all that she could to placate her, even offering to make her a cup of tea, but she wouldn’t believe that Harry wasn’t home. ‘I must speak to him,’ she’d shouted.