Girl Unknown(68)

It might not have been the right time, but I told her then about being turned down for the professorship.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said.

I couldn’t help thinking that if I had received the letter, with the revised date and time, it might have changed the outcome. I didn’t need to say as much to Caroline. It was as if she could read my mind: ‘We have to do something, David. She’s pulling us apart. Our family, our marriage.’

‘You mean Zo??’

‘You don’t actually think I hurt her, pushed her against a wall, like she said?’

‘No,’ I answered truthfully.

‘She scares me.’ She took my hands.

‘Scares you?’

‘All the lies, all the deception … I really think she’s out to destroy us.’

I almost said that her words were too strong, but I didn’t: a part of me agreed with her.

‘We have to do something, David.’

‘We will,’ I said, trying to reassure her. I lifted my wife’s hands to my lips and told her everything was going to be okay. I told her about Alan’s offer of the villa in France: it would be a chance not only to get away from the disappointments and confusion of life at home, but an opportunity to address, without the obstacle of Zo?’s presence and probable intervention, all the marital difficulty we had found ourselves in. Caroline seemed genuinely relieved, and over the coming weeks, our discussions returned again and again to France, the tickets and travel, the villa and what would be, we hoped, time to reconcile our differences, a chance to heal, a holiday to remember.

And all the while we talked about it, I felt, beneath my excitement, an undercurrent of uncertainty. A month had passed since Zo? had left and in that time I hadn’t heard a word from her – not a phone call or a text – let alone seen her. As the days slipped towards summer and our holiday grew close, I began to realize, with a sadness I had to keep hidden, that I had lost her. And whenever the realization crept over me, another thought would surface: perhaps she isn’t my daughter. I had kept the inconclusive test results to myself and even though I told myself they didn’t prove anything, secretly they bothered me. From time to time, I thought about telling Caroline. But as the days slipped towards summer and our holiday grew close, I kept the information to myself, protecting her, or so I believed. Reasoning with myself that it didn’t change anything and what harm could it possibly do to keep it from her?





Part Three





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19. Caroline


The sun was beginning its splendid descent when we crossed the long stretch of bridge to ?le de Ré. We had journeyed overnight by ferry to Cherbourg and spent the day in the car, making our way steadily south. By the time we reached the island and found the village of Loix, the air had grown cooler and the sky was starting to turn pink. The house lay on the outskirts of the village, tucked down a small alleyway too narrow for the car to navigate, so we parked by a square, each of us taking a piece of luggage, and walked the rest of the way.

The villa, like its neighbours, was low and squat, with whitewashed walls, a terracotta roof, and olive-green shutters closed over the windows. A six-foot-high perimeter wall masked it from view, but once through the wrought-iron gates, we found ourselves in a pretty courtyard lined with bursts of lavender. A heavy burden of tangled clematis hung low over the front door. The humble exterior masked a warren-like tumble of rooms, and narrow, twisting staircases rose to hidden bedrooms tucked away in the attic. The floors were covered with slate tiles and it was a relief to kick off my shoes and feel the coolness beneath the soles of my hot feet. Robbie and Holly, having dumped their bags at the door, had gone ahead of us, and I could hear the excitement in their voices at each new discovery.

‘Mum! Come out here – quick!’ I heard Robbie call, and I followed his voice through the now-dark kitchen and living room, out through a set of French windows to a garden at the back with yew and olive trees. A limestone terrace glowed in the half-light. In the midst of it all was a pool – long and narrow, a little wider than a lap-pool, the water appearing purple-grey in the dusky light.

‘You didn’t say there’d be a pool,’ I said to David, coming to stand next to him.

‘I thought I’d surprise you,’ he replied, looking genuinely pleased. It was the first sign of real delight he’d shown in months.

‘I’m going for a swim,’ Robbie said.

‘Hang on,’ I called after him, as he hurried back to the house. ‘Isn’t it a bit late for that?’

‘Let him,’ David said. ‘He’s happy.’ I felt his arm go around my shoulders, drawing me to him. Tentatively, I put mine around his waist. I couldn’t remember the last time we had stood together like that.

Holly had taken off her shoes and was sitting at the edge of the pool, her feet dangling into the cool water. Behind her, the grass grew in long, dry clumps, feathery flowers peeking through. I could hear the low hum of nocturnal insects rising around us, and from one of the neighbouring houses someone’s laughter rang out.

‘So what do you think?’ David nodded back at the house.

I thought of the cool peace within those rooms: was he asking if I thought that here was a place where we might reconcile? Within the confines of this island, might we find some kind of healing after the difficult months we had endured? Perhaps it was the relief of arrival after a long journey or the unfamiliarity of his body against mine, but I felt an answering optimism in my heart. ‘It’s perfect,’ I told him.