Surprise Me
Page 78

‘You were,’ I insist. ‘And we need to stop talking about my “episode”. We need to accept that grief happens. Shit happens; life happens. And glossing over it or trying to say it’s an illness isn’t the way to go. Better to acknowledge it. Cope with it. Clear it up together.’
I have a sudden image of Dan and me working together with brooms, side by side, hot and sweaty and determined. It’s not the most romantic, Hallmark image of marriage … but it’s what I want us to be.
I can see Dan digesting what I’m saying – or at least trying to. It’ll probably take a while.
‘Fair enough,’ he says at last. ‘Maybe you’re right.’ Then his face changes; becomes a little more tense. ‘Have you seen what she wrote?’
‘Skimmed it,’ I say, looking at the ground.
The big question is sitting there in the air between us. I know he’s never going to broach it, so I have to. I take a breath, gearing myself up, preparing myself for his answer, whatever it is. ‘Do you think it’s true?’
At once his face closes up again, like a clam. ‘Don’t know,’ he says distantly. ‘It’s his word against hers. It’s a long time ago. Probably not worth speculating.’
‘But you’ve read everything she wrote.’ I peer at his face, trying to read it. ‘What do you think?’
Dan looks even more tortured. ‘I don’t like talking about this with you. It’s …’
‘Sordid,’ I say flatly. ‘It’s not what my family was supposed to be about. We were supposed to be the gilded, perfect ones, right?’
Dan winces, but doesn’t contradict me. God, he’s had a fucked-up view of my family. Ridiculous brunches with Mummy. Endless viewings of Daddy on that DVD, all golden and handsome. And all the while, scrabbling around with lawyers to keep our dirty washing out of sight.
‘I’m going to read all the files,’ I say. ‘Everything she’s written, everything she’s said. Every word.’
Dan looks appalled. ‘That’s not a good idea—’
‘I’m going to.’ I cut him off. ‘I have to know. Don’t worry, I won’t flip out. You know she was “Lynn”?’ I add, hunching my arms round my body. ‘My parents lied to me.’
‘I know.’ Dan grimaces. ‘That was the worst bit of all. Hearing you talk about your imaginary friend, and knowing …’ He shakes his head. ‘That was messed up.’
‘I felt guilty about Lynn my whole childhood. I felt ashamed and confused and stupid.’ My jaw grows tight at the memory. ‘And I will never forgive him for that, never.’ I speak the words viciously and look up to see Dan regarding me anxiously.
‘Sylvie, don’t go overboard. Don’t go too far the other way. I know this is all shocking. But he was still your dad, remember? You loved him, remember?’
I prod my feelings. My feelings about Daddy. I wait for the familiar torrent of grief and love and fury that he’s been taken from us. But there’s nothing. It’s as though the flow has been cut off at the mains.
‘Maybe I did.’ I watch a guy on rollerblades in the park trying to go backwards. ‘Maybe I will one day again. That’s all I can say, for now.’ I shoot him a sidelong look. ‘I never understood what went wrong with you and Daddy. Now I get it.’
Dan gives me a wry smile. ‘I thought I concealed my feelings perfectly.’
‘Not so much.’ I return his smile, but inside, I’m rewinding over the years, back to when Dan discovered all this; got dragged into a side street of our family map that he was never expecting. ‘It must have been awful for you.’
‘It wasn’t great,’ says Dan, his eyes distant. ‘I idolized your dad too, you know, in my own way. He was such a hero. So when these allegations came along, at first I was shocked. I wanted to defend him. I was glad to defend him. I actually thought it would be a way for us to become closer. Until …’ He gives a humourless laugh. ‘Well. Let’s just say … we didn’t.’
I nod bleakly. ‘I’ve read his emails to you. I know.’
‘He didn’t like that I’d seen beneath the glossy veneer,’ says Dan slowly. ‘He couldn’t really stand it.’
The sound of shrieking heralds the children, who are being ushered off the apparatus and into a room decorated with balloons. As they pass by, both Tessa and Anna gasp at the sight of us, as though it’s been several days since we saw each other.
‘Mummy, you got a hurt!’ says Tessa.
‘Just a tiny one!’ I call back. ‘I’ll get a plaster and it will all get better.’
‘Look, that’s my daddy! He’s there!’ Anna points at Dan, and all the children turn to gawp at us as though we’re celebrities, despite the fact that they see us pretty much every day at school, and all the other parents are here, too.
‘Should we go in with them?’ I say to Dan, my parental radar tweaking. ‘Are we supposed to be at the tea?’
‘No. They’ll be fine.’
We wave as they file into the party room – I can just about hear Tessa boasting, ‘My mummy always climbs up ladders’ – and then look at each other, as though we’re starting again.
I feel like another layer has been stripped off. The guarded look has gone from Dan’s eyes. As he meets my gaze, there’s a new honesty in them. With every revelation I understand Dan better; I learn more about him; I want to learn more about him. John’s voice runs through my head: Love is finding one person infinitely fascinating.
He’s my man. My Dan. The sun in my solar system. And I know he used to be eclipsed at times by a bigger, showier sun, and maybe that was always our problem. But now I can’t think how I ever compared Daddy to Dan, even in the privacy of my own brain, and found Dan lesser. Dan is my sun. Dan wins on every, every, every count …
‘Sylvie?’ Dan interrupts my thoughts and I realize that tears are streaming down my face.
‘Sorry,’ I gulp, brushing at my cheeks. ‘Just thinking about … You know. Us.’
‘Oh, us.’ His eyes lock on to mine and again, there’s that new truth to his gaze: an acknowledgement. It’s a different connection. We’re different. Both of us.
‘So what now?’ I venture at last.
‘Sixty-eight years, minus, what, a few weeks?’ says Dan at last, in unreadable tones. ‘It’s still a long time.’
I nod. ‘I know.’
‘Bloody long time. I mean, Jeez.’
‘Yup.’
Dan’s silent for a moment and I almost can’t breathe. Then he looks up and there’s something in his eyes which makes my heart twitch and tangle up in knots.
‘I’m up for it if you are.’
‘I am.’ I nod again, barely able to speak. ‘I am. I’m up for it.’
‘OK, then.’
‘OK.’
Dan hesitates, then lifts his hand and gently touches my fingertips, and my skin starts fizzing in a way I really wasn’t expecting. What’s happened to my nerve endings? To me? Everything feels brand new. Unpredictable. Dan starts nibbling my fingers, his eyes never leaving mine, and I stare back, transfixed, wanting more. Wanting to get a room. Wanting to rediscover this man that I love.