Forgive Me by Lesley Pearse Read Free Book Online Page B

had drunk too much. But
however much she wished she could forgive him, she found herself running his words overand over in her head, just as she was constantly dwelling on how
she’d found her mother.
    She had never had the kind of affectionate,
jovial relationship with him that she’d observed other people seemed to have with
their fathers. He had always been stern and critical, and had never invited any kind of
confidences. Her mother had often rolled her eyes at his lack of compassion and sense of
humour and told Eva that she must make sure before she got married that her man had both
those important qualities.
    It was funny how she kept recalling similar
remarks her mother had made. Had she been trying to tell her that the marriage
wasn’t a happy one?
    Yet Eva felt Andrew was being honest when he
insisted he’d tried to make Flora tell her the truth for years. He said he had
been afraid that if she ever asked for her birth certificate, she would see her
mother’s maiden name Foyle was on it, and a gap left where her father’s name
should have been. He said Flora had always promised she would tell Eva the truth at an
appropriate time.
    ‘Each time you reached a milestone –
your sixteenth birthday, then your eighteenth – I insisted she told you,’ he said.
‘But she always said, “Not now. I’ll know when the time is
right.” But I was always afraid that you would need your birth certificate at some
stage. Do you remember just before Christmas when you said you’d like money for
your twenty-first, rather than a party, because you wanted to go to Thailand with a
friend at work? Well, that made Flora panic; she thought you’d need a visa, and
for that you have to produce a birth certificate.’
    Eva did remember talking about wanting to go
to Thailand. She also remembered that her mother got veryuptight about
it. She even said it was selfish to go away with a friend rather than have a nice family
party they could all enjoy.
    ‘You aren’t trying to say that
was the reason she killed herself?’ she asked him incredulously.
    He was looking at her accusingly.
‘Well, I think it certainly played its part,’ he said. ‘She was
terrified of how you would react.’
    ‘Then why didn’t you take over
and tell me yourself?’ she snapped at him. ‘And don’t you dare say
that it was because you were afraid to, because you didn’t have any problem
spitting it out the minute she was dead!’
    ‘Oh grow up, Eva,’ he said
scornfully. ‘You know the truth now, so deal with it.’
    That cold dismissive response was like a
knife through her heart. She was certain that any other man who had brought up a child
as his own from babyhood would have reassured her that he’d always loved her, even
if she wasn’t his biological daughter. But she didn’t have the words to say
how deeply wounded she felt, and she was also certain that even if she did, it
wouldn’t make any difference to him.
    ‘I suppose you don’t want me in
the house any more then?’ she said in an attempt to get him to say he still had
some feelings for her.
    ‘I certainly think it would be best if
you moved out after the funeral,’ he replied, turning away from her as if he
couldn’t bear to look at her. ‘After all, you do have a place to go to
now.’
    Since that night she’d stopped calling
him Dad. The word stuck in her throat.
    It had been very tempting to leave the house
immediately. She had a little money saved – enough to stay in a bed andbreakfast for a few weeks – but she didn’t go, because of Ben and Sophie. They
were bewildered and hurting, and right now they needed her.
    A few days ago Andrew had gone out to dinner
with a colleague straight from work. Eva made spaghetti Bolognese for Ben, Sophie and
herself, and Sophie began talking about the dressing-up clothes they used to keep in one
of the rooms in the attic.
    ‘I used to think it was magic that
there was always something different and new in there,’ she said.