Girl Unknown(15)

‘And where is Linda now?’ she asked evenly.

‘She’s dead,’ I said, and it sounded like a vindication, though I hadn’t meant it to.

Caroline’s eyes widened. ‘Dead?’

I took the chair opposite her and went on to tell her what I knew of Linda’s passing.

She reached for a napkin from the holder on the table. ‘When did this happen? When did the girl tell you?’ she asked.

‘I found out at the start of the week.’

‘The start of the week? Why didn’t you say something?’ Caroline said, a little more worked up, annoyed now. ‘Why did you wait to tell me?’

‘To be honest, I needed more time.’

‘More time?’

‘It was a shock to have her walk into my office and make that claim. I needed time to think it through before telling you.’ I remained calm, pragmatic. ‘I wasn’t trying to keep it from you.’

‘You should have told me straight away,’ Caroline said.

‘I wanted to get things clear in my head.’

‘And are they?’

I hesitated. In my head there was an image of the whitewash of water whipped up by the wind on the beach in Holywood, breaking relentlessly, wave after wave, against the shore, where Linda and I stood hand in hand.

‘I don’t know,’ I said in answer. ‘The girl makes a convincing case …’ I meant Zo?, but I was thinking of how Linda and I had tripped down Botanic Avenue on those evenings on our way to the pub or a poetry reading at Oxfam.

‘But we need to be sure,’ Caroline said. ‘We need to know for certain whether she is your daughter or not.’

‘I know,’ I said. ‘I’ve thought about it and there are several ways of finding out.’

‘What? Like a paternity test?’ she asked, with a grim laugh.

‘Why not?’ I answered, reaching out to her to try to reassure her, but her hand remained motionless.

‘All these years …’ she said.

I wanted to say what a relief it was to tell her, but I didn’t. Something stopped me – the strange mix of emotions I was feeling, at once frightening and painful.

‘You never suspected?’ Caroline said.

‘No … never.’ As I watched for her reaction, I noticed something else, something within me, a disbelief at my own words because, to put it quite simply, they were not true. I had suspected. But it was a buried, unconscious suspicion. You see, ever since that weekend in Donegal, the seed of possibility had stayed with me. Had we been careful? Linda had asked me back then. Careful: up until then, we had always been careful. In fact, care was what had defined our relationship. We’d had to be both careful and circumspect. Nobody knew we were there in Donegal. Nobody knew we were together. Nobody knew we were even lovers. She was my student, after all.

‘It’s hard to believe …’ Caroline said, bringing me back to the present. ‘What will you do if it’s true? What will we do if she really is your daughter?’

‘If she is, she is. It doesn’t have to change everything. It doesn’t have to disrupt the lives we have. We’ll adjust, get to know her, try to make room for her in our family.’

‘As simply as that?’

I said: ‘Why not?’

‘Have you thought how this might affect Robbie and Holly if it’s true?’ she said. ‘If they find out that they have a half-sister?’

I had thought about it. I was worried about how they might react. There had been enough disruption in their lives, and God knew I didn’t want to see them hurt. But I really did think we could make it work.

‘We’ll manage, but first let’s get through this next step.’

Caroline considered what I had said, and asked: ‘What’s she like?’

‘She’s young … bright, a little shy. She has all the gaucheness of a teenager and at the same time enough nerve to walk into my office and introduce herself as my daughter … Whether it ends up being true or not, I have to take it seriously.’

Caroline listened, concentrating on what I had said, trying to process it all. ‘The DNA test,’ she said. ‘That’s what you mean by “paternity test”, right?’

‘Yes.’

‘How are you going to do it?’

I thought about how I had met Zo? in the pub, how my hand had found the loose strands of hair on her coat and clutched at them. ‘A hair follicle.’

‘Just like that?’

‘I’ve done it.’

‘You’ve done it?’

‘Zo? doesn’t know. I took some strands of hair from her coat.’

‘You’re kidding me?’

‘No.’

‘But that’s not ethical.’

‘I suppose not. I thought it was the best thing to do at the time,’ I said, my voice wavering.

‘But, David, that’s dishonest – it’s underhand,’ she said, appealing to my reason.

‘And you’re an expert on honesty now?’ I snapped. Caroline was more disappointed than hurt. I apologized, but the awkwardness was back, as well as another worry, another fear I couldn’t name as yet.

‘Would it not be better to be upfront with Zo? and say to her that this has been a shock and would she mind if we had a professional check it out, just to be sure?’