‘While you were married.’
‘Yes. She and Fiona were friends, believe it or not. We were all friends. But when Fiona started to go into a black place, I fell in love with your mother. Eventually, I left Fiona. I have always felt dreadful about it, even though I never regretted my decision. It left Fiona in a pretty awful position. I don’t suppose she would have been able to have children after that . . . Did she mention anything about children?’
‘No.’
He nodded. Rachel had to admit, he was doing an excellent job of feigning concern.
Finally he sighed. ‘Look. Your mother and I felt ashamed about how things had happened. She never even told her own mother – you know Gran would have been mortified if she thought Pam’s relationship began in sin. And we both felt terrible about the way we’d hurt Fiona. I guess we didn’t want you kids to know how our relationship started. But if she insinuated that I physically hurt her . . .’
‘She didn’t. That was my takeaway.’
‘Your takeaway! Rachel, can you please explain why in the world you would think that? Have you ever known me to be abusive? Have I ever laid a hand on you or your sister?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘But Mum . . .’ She stopped, finding she could barely project the words.
Dad waited. ‘Mum what?’ he prompted, when she didn’t continue.
‘Mum was always getting injured.’
A long silence. Dad kept blinking and screwing up his face as if he just couldn’t process what she was suggesting. ‘And you think . . .’
‘I’m trying to piece things together, Dad!’ Rachel burst out. ‘You lied about an ex-wife who tells me you hurt her terribly. Mum left a hundred grand hidden away with a note with your ex-wife’s name on it. Now, whenever I visit Mum, she says something awful about you. And I’ve started remembering all her funny little injuries – her falls, her knocks on the head, her broken bones. What am I supposed to think?’
‘Not this!’ Dad bellowed, clearly forgetting to keep his voice down. It reminded Rachel about Heather.
‘Heather is a heavy sleeper,’ Rachel commented.
‘Yes, well, we had a late night,’ Dad said.
There was something about the way he said it that piqued Rachel’s interest. He had a flush of . . . guilt or something. ‘Did something happen?’ Rachel asked.
‘Heather had a fall. She cut her wrist and needed stitches, so we were at the hospital late.’ His face was resigned, as if he knew how she would read this. ‘It was an accident, Rachel,’ he said. When Rachel didn’t reply, he added: ‘You don’t believe me.’ It was a statement rather than a question. There was something heartbreaking about it.
‘It’s just . . . a lot of accidents,’ she said.
Dad nodded. ‘So your theory is that I abused Fiona. Then I left her for your mother, whom I also abused. And now I’m abusing Heather. Is that right?’ He watched her, as if waiting for a reaction, but Rachel didn’t give him one. ‘So tell me this: how is any of it related to a hot-water bottle full of cash?’
‘I think Mum was saving up to leave you,’ Rachel said. ‘She would have had to save for a long time, since you only ever gave her housekeeping money. But then, as her mind started to go, she forgot about the hot-water bottle.’
‘And Fiona’s name was in there because . . .?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe she wanted to reach out to her?’
‘As fellow abused former wives of Stephen Aston?’
‘Why not?’ Rachel said. ‘She needed support from someone.’
Dad lowered his head into his hands. ‘Well, it sounds like you’ve made up your mind. What is it you want from me?’
‘I want the truth, Dad,’ she said. ‘All I’m asking for, is the truth.’
50
HEATHER
Heather was lying in bed when she heard the raised voices. It sounded like Rachel, which was strange for a Sunday morning. She lay there for a while, to give them privacy. The last thing they would want if they were having a disagreement was Heather showing up.
She rolled over in bed. Her wrist wasn’t hurting anymore. The pills Stephen had given her seemed to have taken care of that. She’d slept well too. She hadn’t even got up to pee – which was a first since she’d become pregnant. It was amazing how different things could look after a good night’s sleep.
Just after 9:30 am, Stephen poked his head around the door. ‘Heather? How are you feeling?’