Chapter 2

‘Are you all right?' Mum asked.

I walked into the kitchen with a spare dressing gown wrapped around me. After being sick all over myself, I'd gone upstairs to the bathroom, peeled off my clothes and jumped straight into the shower. I was in there for ages, just letting the hot needles of water rain down on me, numbing the pain. Actually, I didn't know if I was in pain. I couldn't feel anything. I couldn't make sense of anything I'd just been told.

Less than five hours ago, I was eating a shitty curry and flicking through the channels for something decent to watch. I was living in blissful ignorance. Now, suddenly, I was the daughter of one of the most hated men in Britain.

All through my childhood, I'd asked about my dad. Where's Daddy? Will Daddy be here for Christmas? Why do Charlotte and Jodie and Teresa have a daddy, and I don't? When I was old enough, Mum had told me what I always believed to be the truth. She had put on an Oscar-winning performance, and I'd fallen for it. I mean, who would lie about getting knocked up after a one-night stand at a party with a complete stranger?

By the time I'd stepped out of the shower, my skin was red from the heat of the water. I'd felt cleaner, but I didn't feel any better. I'd dried myself and plonked myself down on the toilet lid, still mulling over all the questions running around my mind, wondering which one to ask first. I'd grabbed the dressing gown from the back of the door of my old bedroom and had slowly gone down the stairs. To be honest, I was dreading having to look my mother in the eye.

Mum was standing at the sink, rinsing out the bucket of soapy water she'd used to mop up the sick in the living room. My clothes were whirring around in the washing machine. I hoped they would dry quickly; I wanted to go home.

Mum turned to look at me. Her eyes were wide and full of tears. She seemed to have aged a decade in the past half an hour.

‘Are you all right?' she asked a second time, and I didn't answer or move from the doorway.

I shook my head.

‘Is there anything I can do? Or say?'

‘Everything,' I said, stepping into the kitchen. ‘Have you got any wine?'

‘No. I don't?—'

‘I didn't think you did. It turns out you're full of surprises, though,' I said, sitting down at the kitchen table with a heavy thud.

‘Would you like me to make you another coffee?'

I nodded. ‘Better make it a strong one.'

‘I think I'll join you.'

As Mum set about making the coffee, I kept turning to steal glances at her. I had so much respect and admiration for my mum. She'd been a single parent, struggling to run a business and bring up a daughter on her own. It hadn't been easy, but she'd succeeded. When I was young, all I had wanted was to grow up to be like the strong woman she was.

‘Do you want something to eat?' Mum asked.

‘Sorry?' I'd heard her speak but hadn't heard the words. She repeated the question. ‘No. I don't think I could eat anything.' First time for everything.

Mum brought the mugs over to the table, followed by the full biscuit barrel. She sat down at the opposite end of the table and took a sip of the hot drink.

‘Wow. That really is strong. Just what I need,' she said, giving me an uncomfortable smile. ‘I'm going to have a headache tomorrow.'

I didn't comment. I looked down into my mug as if it had all the answers I was looking for. Usually when I had something to contemplate, I sought solace in a bottle of wine or three. I doubted coffee would have the same desired effect.

‘Dawn, talk to me,' Mum pleaded.

It was a while before I looked up. ‘I don't know where to start.'

‘Tell me how you're feeling.'

‘If I knew, I would.'

‘Are you mad at me?'

‘Yes. I think I am. Why did you lie to me, Mum? All these years. I can understand you not telling me when I was a child asking where my daddy was, but when I was old enough, you could have sat me down and explained.'

‘I know,' she said. More tears ran down her cheeks. She grabbed a tissue from the box on the table and wiped them away. ‘I've wrestled with this for so long. Every time I decided to tell you, a voice in my head said I shouldn't, that you were better off not knowing the truth. Whenever I started to think you had a right to know, the voice would speak louder and… I don't know.' She blew her nose, wiped her eyes and took a deep breath. ‘Ask me anything. It's time to reveal the truth now. Ask me anything you want, and I'll give you an honest answer straight from the heart.'

‘Why didn't you tell me before?' I asked firmly.

‘When you were a child, I wanted to protect you. There was a lot of ill feeling around here about what Dominic did. There still is. I thought if I told you and you told a friend at school… Kids can be so cruel. I didn't want you being bullied.'

I nodded. ‘I can understand that.'

My mum's face softened.

‘How did you meet him?' I asked.

‘At a party. We didn't go to the same school. It was Lizzie Denham's eighteenth. I met Dominic, and we had a few drinks and a laugh and arranged to meet up that weekend for a date.'

I smiled as I saw the brightness return to my mum's eyes as she remembered a time that was obviously special to her.

I've often wondered why Mum never married or even had a boyfriend. She met the odd bloke, and a couple of them were incredibly odd, but nothing ever went beyond a few dates. She always said she'd been on her own too long and was used to doing her own thing. I can certainly understand that. I may only be twenty-one, but I've been on enough dates to know, more often than not, men can be complete tossers – mentioning no names, Neil Whitaker.

‘How long did you go out together for?'

‘About a year.'

‘What was he like?'

It was a while before Mum answered. It looked like she was struggling to find the right words. ‘He was… lovely.' She gave a painful smile.

‘Lovely. Is that it?'

‘No. He was… sweet and kind and funny, but… he could be a bit overbearing at times.'

‘How do you mean?'

‘Remember Melanie Pritchard? Had the shop next to me, sold all that crap jewellery?' I nodded. ‘Remember her husband? He was always phoning her asking what time she was shutting, what time she'd be home, where she was going, who she was meeting. Well, Dominic was a bit like that. He was… clingy.'

‘Maybe he really liked you?'

‘Maybe.' She shrugged.

‘Did Nan and Grandad meet him?'

‘Yes. They got on well with him.'

‘So, what happened?'

‘We were only eighteen. I was about to go to university. He didn't know what he wanted to do. He wasn't very academic, if I remember correctly. Anyway, people kept telling me not to have a boyfriend when I went to uni, as it wouldn't last and one of us would end up getting hurt. Also, I was planning on going to Sheffield, and I know it's not far, but I didn't want to do the whole long-distance thing. So we decided to end it.'

‘How did he take it?'

Mum took a deep breath. ‘He cried. A lot. I cried too.'

‘He cried?' I was surprised.

‘Yes. He told me… he told me he loved me.'

‘But you didn't feel the same way?'

‘No.'

‘Why not?'

‘I can't believe I'm telling you this. He was my first boyfriend. I didn't know what love was. I liked him, obviously. But love? No. I didn't love him.'

‘Had I already been conceived at that point?'

‘No. He asked if we could have one last night together. He picked me up in his van, and we went out for a meal in town. It was a good night.'

‘Then what happened?'

‘Well, you can imagine the rest.'

‘And then you got pregnant. I bet Nan and Grandad went mad.'

‘Your nan cried buckets. Grandad went ballistic. It took me ages to build up the courage to tell them, and I'd already started showing by the time I did, but I'd come up with a plan. If they were willing to help me look after you, I'd defer uni for a year, apply to Newcastle and stay at home.'

‘And Grandad was okay with that?' I asked. As much as I'd loved Pop-pop and Mee-maw, I knew that Grandad had been tough and old-fashioned. I would have hated to tell him I was pregnant at eighteen.

‘Your nan won him over, eventually,' Mum said, with a smile.

‘Did you tell Dominic you were pregnant?'

‘I did. I thought he had a right to know.'

‘What did he say?'

Mum looked away briefly in embarrassment. ‘He asked me to marry him.'

‘He proposed! I'm guessing you turned him down.' She nodded. ‘Why?'

‘Like I said, I didn't love him. He didn't have any direction. He had no plan for what he wanted to do with his life. I was eighteen, still living at home and pregnant, yet I knew I wanted to have my own business. I let him down very gently. I told him I wasn't completely shutting him out. I said he could have as much input in raising you as he wanted.'

‘So, what happened?'

‘His mother happened. The next day, she came over to the house, banging on the door, demanding to be let in. She was a frightening woman.'

‘Had you never met her before?'

‘No. Dominic always put me off meeting his parents. He said they were very set in their ways.'

‘So she came round?'

‘She called me every name under the sun. I was a slag, a slut, a bitch, a whore. I'd trapped her son by getting pregnant to force him to marry me. She was furious.'

‘Bloody hell. What happened?'

‘Your grandfather happened. He read her the riot act and practically threw her out of the house. She left but told us not to have any contact with her or Dominic ever again. I was in tears when she left.'

‘Did you ever see Dominic again?'

‘Not until about three months after you were born.'

‘Did he come to see me?' I asked, with a smile.

‘No. I didn't see him in person. I saw him on the news being led to the back of a police car in handcuffs.'