What Lies Between Us(80)

I open the doors to his wardrobe, smelling his shirts and rubbing his jumpers against my cheeks and neck. I find a scarf in the Burberry pattern and slip that inside my handbag too. Finally, I spray one of his colognes on to my wrists, wait a few seconds, and breathe it in.

I’m halfway back down the stairs when Dylan appears below me, arm in arm with his adoptive mother. They are laughing together and he doesn’t see me at first. The venom I carry for her rises up the back of my throat and I swallow to force it back down.

I wait for my son to spot me, and when he does, he stops in his tracks, the colour draining from his face.





CHAPTER 68





NINA


Dylan’s forehead wrinkles as I descend his staircase. He shakes his head as if he doubts what he is seeing. He would rather believe his eyes are playing tricks on him than accept his birth mother is actually in his house.

‘Nina,’ he whispers.

His adoptive mum looks at him, as if she knows something has spooked him. ‘Bobby?’ she asks, but he doesn’t reply. He is too busy staring at me.

‘Surprise!’ I say, and make my way down the rest of the stairs and hug him. His arms don’t reciprocate.

‘What . . . why are you . . .’ His voice trails off.

‘I thought it’d be a good opportunity to meet your mum,’ I reply, the word ‘mum’ spat out like a mouthful of nails. ‘Hello.’ I offer her my broadest smile. I hold my hand out to take hers and scrape a finger on the huge rock attached to her ring. ‘I’m Nina, it’s lovely to meet you. And happy birthday.’ I pass her the bag with the Prosecco inside it.

‘I’m Jane, and thank you, it’s very kind,’ she says without looking inside. I can tell she’s curious as to who I am, but my son is too gobsmacked to offer an explanation.

‘Are you having a good night?’

‘Yes, it’s been wonderful. Are you and Bobby colleagues?’

I give an exaggerated laugh before he can reply. ‘No, I doubt I’d be able to write a newspaper story if my life depended on it.’

‘So how do you know one another?’

‘Do you want to tell her, Dylan?’ I say.

‘Dylan?’ she repeats and looks to him again. ‘Why is she calling you . . .’

And then the penny drops, but with the force of a thousand-ton weight. ‘Nina,’ she gasps. Her head swiftly turns to me, to Dylan and then to me again. She sees the resemblance. And now she is as pale as my son.

‘I’m sorry, I should have introduced myself properly. I’m Dylan’s mum.’

Jane takes a step back and releases her grip on his arm. She looks to him for confirmation.

‘Is this true?’ she asks. But she knows the answer by the look on his face.

The front doorbell chimes and interrupts us. He takes my arm – too forcefully for my liking – and leads me towards a pair of doors and a darkened room. He turns the lights on to reveal a home office. There’s a desk on one side and a chesterfield armchair on the other. Jane follows us in and shuts the doors behind us. She doesn’t offer me a seat.

‘We’ve not met before,’ I continue. ‘I was drugged and unconscious when you took my son from me.’ She doesn’t retaliate because she doesn’t have a leg to stand on.

‘I don’t understand,’ Dylan says. ‘What are you doing here? I didn’t invite you.’

‘You two know each other?’ a shocked Jane asks, and Dylan nods. ‘How did this happen?’ She turns to me. ‘Did you come looking for him?’ It’s more of an accusation than a question.

‘Actually, no, my son found me, didn’t you?’

I cannot deny the satisfaction it brings me to wound her with my words. Now she turns to him and I see the tears forming in his eyes. But he doesn’t offer a reply. I don’t think he wants to hurt her so I speak for him. ‘We’ve spent a lot of time together over the last two years, haven’t we, Dylan?’

‘Two years?’ Jane repeats, and shakes her head.

‘We meet regularly; sometimes I’ll come up here and other times, he’ll come down to see me. I only live in Northampton so I’m practically on your doorstep. But you probably remember that.’

We are joined by Oscar who charges towards me, resting his front paws on my thighs. He licks my hands as I make a fuss of him. ‘It’s good to see you again!’ I tell him, and catch Jane looking at Oscar as if he too has betrayed her.

‘What are you doing here?’ Dylan repeats.

‘I wanted to meet the woman who’s been looking after you.’

‘I haven’t just been “looking after him”,’ Jane says. ‘He is my son.’

‘Not biologically though, is he?’

‘I loved him and raised him when you couldn’t.’

‘The choice was taken away from me, Jane. It was my mother who gave him up, not me. It’s a long story that I’m sure Dylan will fill you in on later. But imagine my surprise when he suddenly turned up on my doorstep wanting a relationship with me. His mother.’

Each new revelation arrives like a slap to her face. I know that none of this is her fault but I don’t care. Even if she didn’t want to admit it, surely she must have always known she has only ever had Dylan on loan?