Chapter 44

‘It was just the once, not long after we met,' I say as Tom continues to glare at me. ‘In hindsight, it was a stupid thing to do, but I was missing him – everyone kept telling me to stop pining for him, to concentrate on my future. I wish I'd listened.' I pause, waiting for a reaction. Tom tugs at the loose skin of his thumbnail with his index finger. He can't even bear to look at me. I plough on. ‘Liam begged me to go back to him, promised marriage, children. I felt wanted, special, my life would be complete. I went back to his – stayed the night. It was the weekend you were at that Stag do in Manchester.'

Tom nods, ‘Toby's. That didn't last long.' No, it didn't. They divorced six months later.

‘I regretted it immediately, and that's when I realised I was no longer in love with him. I told Liam I'd met someone else. Someone kinder, stronger, stable.' Tom gives me a watery smile. I inch closer. I can feel his body heat. ‘Liam seemed to take it in his stride.' I don't mention that he got out of bed, hopped into his jeans and slammed the door behind him so hard that I thought the entire building was going to collapse. ‘I doubt very much he meant all those things he said to me before we got into bed.' Tom grimaces, takes a glug from his glass. ‘I'm sorry, Tom, I shouldn't have done that to you, but it was early days. We hardly knew each other. I thought we were a fling. How was I to know we'd end up getting married?' I comb a hand through my hair.

‘Anyway, I never heard from Liam again, until he looked me up online. I don't even know why I responded to his stupid message. I think I was just being nosey. Wanted to find out how his life had panned out. Show off about mine.' I laugh sourly. ‘He hasn't aged well. But then he was into all sorts.' I stare at the A4 envelope, wishing I had x-ray eyes. ‘I thought he might've mellowed over the years. People do, don't they?' I muse. ‘He certainly seemed like he had, from the messages, I mean.'

Tom follows my eyes to the A4 envelope but says nothing. ‘I honestly believed Liam wanted a friendly catch up. But, of course, he had an ulterior motive, which didn't come to light until I told him we couldn't continue messaging because you weren't okay with it.' I look at the glass in Tom's hand. If he grips it any tighter I'm sure it'll smash.

‘Then the truth came out. Liam had been stalking me online for quite some time and found out I had a fifteen-year-old daughter.' I inhale deeply, shake my head. I feel so ashamed. ‘He did a bit of maths and asked me if she was his. He never was good at arithmetic.' I smile sadly. ‘I told him Georgia was your child, that he got his dates wrong.' I roll my eyes but Tom doesn't flinch. ‘Anyway, he wouldn't have it – threatened to get his solicitor onto me if I didn't agree to a paternity test.'

‘And did you?'

‘That's when we met up at the cafe – he showed me the kit with the instructions. I promised I'd do it and send it off, then text him the results – he refused, didn't trust me, wanted to meet Georgia, get a sample of her hair, or something.' Tom stiffens. ‘It never happened,' I say firmly. ‘I'd never do that to our daughter.' My eyes widen. ‘Or to you,' I add hastily. Tom knocks back the last dregs from his glass, places it on the coffee table, and lets out a painful breath through his nostrils. ‘In the end, he agreed to let me do it.' I close my eyes. ‘Provided he watched.'

‘Watched?' Tom leaps to the edge of his seat, hand balled on his knee.

I should stop now but I can't. I've got to tell him everything. ‘I dropped Georgia off at school, as usual. Just before she got out, I told her I needed a cheek swab for a new Covid variant.' Tom looks at me, eyes full of curiosity, or is it shock? I can't be certain.

‘Liam parked up behind us and watched me do it.' I pause, swallow, ‘I put it in the phial and once she was out of sight, I shot out, rounded the car, and handed it to him, with strict instructions to never, ever contact me again.'

‘And he was all right with that, was he?'

I shrug. ‘The agreement was, if the results were negative, he'd leave me alone.'

‘Pathetic wanker,' Tom mutters.

‘I toyed with the idea of binning the test, but I couldn't take the risk of him taking action – putting Georgia through it – dragging her through the courts. It wasn't worth it. This is an important school year for her. I couldn't…I didn't…'

‘Okay, okay, I get it.' Tom picks up his glass, realises it's empty and puts it down again. ‘Did he get the result he wanted?'

‘Obviously not. I haven't heard from him.' I snort, give him a sideward glance. ‘Georgia is a Harris, Tom, through and through. You've got to believe me. Liam is not her father.'

‘And you're a hundred-per-cent sure of that, are you? I don't answer. Is anyone one hundred percent certain of anything? ‘Thought not.'

‘No, wait, I…'

‘And it was just a one-night-stand sixteen years ago?' Tom interjects.

‘Yes. As soon as I...'

‘No affair?'

‘I swear on Georgia's life.'

Tom scratches his chin. ‘Then or since.'

‘No!'

‘Okay.' Tom exhales at the muted screen. ‘I believe you.' Thank you, God. Leaning my head back on the headrest, relief washes over me, and then I feel something on my lap. It's the A4 envelope. It is sealed and addressed to Mr T. Harris. ‘Open it,' he dares, a coldness seeping from his skin and penetrating mine.

‘What is it?' I gulp, glancing down at it with trepidation. It's the divorce papers. We will sell the house. Go our separate ways. Georgia will have to flit between two parents. My eyes skim over the envelope. Normal post – second class — nothing suspicious about it at all.

‘Go on,' he urges, ‘open it.' I go to pick it up and then, ‘But before you do, I want you to know one thing. The contents in that envelope change nothing. You, me and Georgia, we'll always be a family, okay?' I nod, eyes stinging with tears. At least he wants an amicable separation. We will be like my friend Rosie and her ex-husband Peter. They still go away together as a family. They even stay at each other's houses during the Christmas and Easter holidays and bring their respective new partners along. One big happy family. I don't think I could do that. I don't think I could bear to see Tom with another woman.

I tear the envelope open with tremulous fingers and pull out two sheets of paper. The heading is in big, bold black writing – Alpha Omega Diagnostics.My eyes flit over the contact details, a London address. I start reading.

DNA Test Report

Name of Child: Georgia Hannah Harris.

Alleged Father: Thomas Joseph Harris.

Every hair on my skin stands on end. What the hell? My eyes scan the report — rows and rows and rows of numbers and letters and graphs swim in my vision.

‘I used Georgia's toothbrush.' No wonder she couldn't find it on Tuesday morning. He didn't utter a word when she accused me of using it and chucking it in the bin. ‘Ordered the kit online. A courier dropped it off at the practice, picked it up the next day. It only took forty-eight hours. I couldn't open it. I was going to burn it tonight, without reading it. Georgia is my daughter, whether she shares my DNA or not. She means the world to me. Sperm doesn't make you a dad. There's no way I'm going to let that lowlife take her from me.' I nod, eyes filling with fresh hot tears. ‘But for us to move forward, I had to be sure that there was no affair because you must admit, you have been acting weird lately – disappearing in the middle of the night, hushed phone calls in the bathroom.' If only he knew they were with Linda and Zelda discussing Frank.

‘I promise you, Tom.' I place a hand on my heart. My celestial being jumps up and down with joy – he doesn't want a divorce. ‘There's been no affair, no relationship.'

‘Okay. And there's nothing else I should know?'

I stare at him in a daze. Yes, there is, actually. I may be an accomplice to attempted murder. My sister stabbed her boyfriend and I got rid of the weapon she used to kill him with. I might rot in prison and you will have to bring up Georgia on your own.

‘Well?' he says.

I fiddle with my wedding ring. He's giving you another chance, Bella. Don't fuck it up. Tell him. Tell him everything. Rid yourself of this burden. He'll understand. Look at how well he's taken the news about Liam. ‘No,' I hear myself say, voice hoarse. I can't betray my sister.

Tom's eyebrows shoot up. ‘You don't sound too sure.'

I swallow. ‘No,' I say firmly, sitting up straight. ‘There's nothing else.'

He nods at the papers in my hand. ‘Go on then, put me out of my misery.'

I shake my head. A big tear splashes from my eye and lands on the report as I read it. ‘Oh, Tom,' I cry, clamping a hand over my mouth.

Tom's eyes fill. ‘Shhh…it's okay.' He pulls me to him and I sob onto his chest. ‘It's okay. We're a team. We'll get through this.' Taking the papers from my limp grasp, he scrunches them into a ball. ‘I love Georgia with every part of me. Nothing will break our bond.' A beat and then, ‘We will have to tell her, though. It's only fair. She might want to meet him.'

Pulling away from him, I take the papers from his hand, unfurl them, and read the result again before handing it to him:

Probability of Paternity – 99.9998%