Maybe, subconsciously, I just hadn’t wanted to see it. Maybe I had blinded myself to the truth. I had assumed for all these years that Kay had gone ahead with the abortion. I was furious that she hadn’t told me. If anyone had a right to know, surely it was me? I was Jonah’s father – but she had kept it from me for eleven years. All that time – in which I could have got to know him, watched him grow up – was now lost forever. How could she deceive me like that? How could she live with herself, knowing that I had lost all those years of Jonah’s life? Did she think I wouldn’t have cared? What kind of person did she take me for?
By the time I arrived at Kay’s house, I had worked myself up into a peak of righteous indignation. But I contained my fury until Kay had welcomed me inside. If she was surprised or embarrassed by the size of the birthday present I had brought for Jonah, she concealed it well. She seemed genuinely pleased that I had gone to the bother of buying him something. For a moment, I began to have doubts about whether now was really the best time to have the conversation that I had been rehearsing in my head for hours on end. But I couldn’t face another night of agonising over the rights and wrongs of it all. It was better to get it all out in the open.
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” I said.
“Sorry Miles – what are you talking about? Tell you what?”
“That Jonah is my son.”
“What?”
“Oh come on, Kay. Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. How long is it since we first met? Nearly twelve years. Eleven years and about ten months, to be precise. What happened after that? Well, not long after, you got pregnant – or had you forgotten that? And how old is Jonah? He’s eleven today. Coincidence? I don’t think so.”
“Oh, right. And what’s that supposed to prove?” This pretend innocence infuriated me. For a moment, I even had the impression that she was about to laugh – but then she seemed to think better of the idea.
“Do I have to spell it out?” I asked. “Do you need to me to draw you a diagram? Or can we have a sensible discussion about it?”
“Well, all I’m saying is, how do you actually know that Jonah is your son? Based on what? So you’ve done a bit of arithmetic. Well, congratulations! But it doesn’t prove anything.”
“So what are you saying - that he’s not my son?”
“For Christ’s sake Miles! Keep your voice down! Jonah’s upstairs! Look, as far as I’m concerned, it makes no difference whether he’s biologically your son or not. He was brought up with Pete as his father and that’s all that matters.”
“But you’re not denying it,” I said, unable to keep a note of triumphalism out of my voice.
Kay sighed and then said: “OK, if that’s the way you want it. No, you’re not his father.”
“I don’t believe you.”
She shrugged and looked to one side.
“Look me in the eye and tell me that he’s not my son.”
“Miles, why can’t you just believe me?”
“Because I can tell when you’re lying.”
“Oh, I see. You just know, do you? Well, you don’t know me as well as you think.”
“Stop trying to avoid the issue.”
“I’m not avoiding the issue. You are not Jonah’s father. Pete is. Don’t you think I should know?”
“Alright. Let’s get a blood test done. That’ll settle it once and for all.”
“No, I’m not having Jonah put through that. He’s been through enough lately.”
“He wouldn’t have to know what it was for.”
“The answer is no, Miles. You’ll just have to take my word for it that you are not his father.”
“I think I am.”
She looked away for a moment and then said:
“What did you have to raise this for anyway? Things were going so well between us. Why did you have to go and spoil it? OK, so you seem to get on well enough with Jonah. He likes you. And that’s really good. But you’re not his father.” She paused and then added: “Is that what all this is really about? Is it that you want kids?”
“No, that’s not it,” I snapped and then immediately regretted it. “What I mean is, I don’t know whether I want children or not. I haven’t really thought about it.” As she had done so often in the past, Kay had succeeded in wrong-footing me just when I thought that I had her on the defensive. But I was determined not to be diverted. “Anyway, that’s not the point. The point is that you kept me in the dark for eleven years. I happen to think I deserve a bit of honesty, that’s all. And I’m not leaving until I get a straight answer.” I was searching for a way of getting the upper hand now, a killer question that would put her back on the defensive. “If you’re so sure Pete’s the father, why didn’t you just come out and say so? And why are you so scared of getting a blood test done?”
Kay took a deep breath. “OK Miles, if you really want to know, I’ll tell you. When I got pregnant, I said it was you. But I was still sleeping with Pete - I just didn’t want you to know because I thought you’d be hurt. When I told him I was pregnant, he said he would stand by me. So I decided to go through with it and have the baby. Then I married Pete. That’s really all there is to it.”
This was not what I had expected. But by this stage, I didn’t want to believe her.
“So - I’m supposed to believe that it wasn’t me that got you pregnant after all?” I said, trying desperately to appear amused and in control, when in reality my confidence in the righteousness of my position was ebbing away. “You told me I was responsible just to spare my feelings? Well, I don’t buy that at all. If you knew it wasn’t me, why did you bother telling me you were pregnant?”
“I told you because I thought it would scare you off. I felt it had all got too complicated and I decided it was the best way to finish with you.”
“Oh, thanks very much. So you thought that at the first whiff of trouble, I’d be off like a shot. Like I was incapable of facing up to the responsibility. Well, that’s really nice. Thanks a lot.”
She shrugged.
“Obviously I misjudged you. I’m sorry. And then once I’d told you, I couldn’t very well retract it all and say that I’d made a mistake.”
By that point in the discussion, Kay had succeeded in casting doubt on my previously unchallengeable conclusions about Jonah’s parenthood. I tried to rationalise the doubts away by homing in on things like her unwillingness to contemplate a blood test. I told myself that it was just like her unwillingness to take a pregnancy test all those years ago – she didn’t want to face up the truth.
But I was to be deprived of the chance to continue with my cross-examination. Someone else had come into the room.
It was Pete. He was soaking wet, his curly hair plastered to his forehead. Rainwater dribbled off his waterproof coat onto the carpet.
“Hello,” he said, without smiling. We both stared at him. “I just came to pick up a few things and to drop this off.” He was carrying a large, gift-wrapped package. He put it down on the sofa. “It’s Jonah’s birthday present. I expect you thought I’d forgotten.”
“No, I ...” said Kay. “I’m just surprised to see you that’s all. I didn’t hear you come in. Well, that and the fact that I had no idea whether you were even still alive.”
Pete shrugged. “Look, I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch. I’ll go if you want. I still have my keys. Do you want them back?”
“No, it’s OK. Keep them. But I’d rather you rang the doorbell in future, if it’s all the same to you. And maybe give me a ring to let me know you were coming. But it doesn’t matter. You’re here now. Anyway, look at you – you’re wet through. Come into the kitchen and I’ll make you a cup of tea. Miles was just leaving, weren’t you?” She gave me a look which left me in no doubt that my continued presence was deeply unwelcome.
“Yes, I’d better get going,” I said. There was no prospect of getting any further with Kay that evening. I tried - and failed - to think of a plausible explanation to give to Pete as to what I was doing there. I decided to leave this to Kay. Let her deal with the awkward questions, I thought, miserably. “It’s good to see you,” I said to Pete, with as much sincerity as I could muster, probably barely disguising my irritation at his intrusion. “How are you doing?”
“Oh, you know, surviving,” he said, gloomily. His face was pale and there were smudgy dark circles under his eyes. He looked as if he hadn’t slept properly for days. Kay ushered him into the kitchen, glancing back at me to make sure I was leaving.
“I’ll see myself out,” I said.
As I made my way towards the front door, I noticed that the carpet immediately outside the sitting room door was damp. I wondered how long Pete had been standing outside in the hall, listening. I tried to think back to the moment when he had entered the room, searching for some clue in his facial expression or body language that would show whether he had heard every word we said. But his face – or rather, my memory of it – betrayed nothing. The expression was familiar from the last time I had seen him – he looked slightly disengaged from reality, as if his mind were on higher things than the trivialities of the immediate present. There was something different about it though. Perhaps it was just his tiredness, but it seemed to me that a trace of doubt had crept in, as if he were starting to lose faith in whatever deeply-held conviction had sustained him in his self-imposed isolation. Or maybe I was just seeing my own state of mind reflected back at me. I had gone in absolutely convinced that I was Jonah’s father. But after what Kay had said, I was starting to wonder if I had got it totally wrong.
Just as I was opening the front door, Pete came rushing out of the kitchen.
“Hang on a minute,” he said, slightly out of breath. For a moment, I thought that he was going to confront me. But then he said: “I’ve got something for you. Wait there.” He scurried over to his car and retrieved a second package. It was about the size of a couple of telephone directories, and wrapped in ordinary brown paper.
“What is it?” I asked.
“It’s what we talked about before - I want you to look after it for me. Don’t open it here,” he said, looking around nervously. “Wait until you get home.”
I wish now that I had never accepted it. Or thrown it away. But it wouldn’t have done any good. By then it was too late. The real damage had already been done.
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