Things I Want My Daughters to Know_ A Novel - Elizabeth Noble [48]
For five minutes she sat in the chair, in her towel, with her phone in her hand. He didn’t call her back. She shivered with cold then and got dressed.
COVENT GARDEN WAS HEAVING WITH SALE SHOPPERS, AND LISA, scanning the crowd for her sister, didn’t see Amanda until she was right next to her. They hugged briefly, and then Lisa thrust her arm through Amanda’s and pulled her in the direction of a restaurant they’d eaten at before.
“Thank God I called and made a reservation—the world and his wife are out today.”
They were shown to a small round table in the corner, where they sank gratefully into their chairs and ordered two big glasses of red wine.
Lisa leaned forward conspiratorially and grinned.
“So, sis, dish…how was it?”
“It was fine.”
“Fine?! You went off from Mark’s on top of the world….”
She didn’t want to talk about Ed. Maybe there was no Ed to talk about, anyway.
“Lisa—I read Mum’s letter.”
“What do you mean?” Lisa looked confused.
“You know the letters we got? When Mum died?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Well, I hadn’t read mine.”
“Why on earth not?”
“I don’t know. I couldn’t bring myself to. I felt bad, not being there, I suppose. I wasn’t sure what it would say…I don’t know. Anyway”—she shook her head—“I didn’t read it at the time, and I hadn’t read it…until this morning.”
“And…”
“And this morning I read it.”
Lisa realized that Amanda was looking pale. Shocked. And she’d been crying. She could see it now—her eyes were red-rimmed.
“What did it say?” When Amanda didn’t answer, she felt awkward. “I mean, not that it’s any of my business, not really, what it said….”
“That’s why I called you….”
“Okay.” Lisa sat, looking at her sister for long moments, her hands folded in her lap, her mind racing.
Amanda couldn’t move the conversation forward. She couldn’t get the words out.
Her sister felt a flash of anxiety.
“Come on…. You’re freaking me out now, Mand. What did it say?”
Amanda smiled weakly, and shrugged her shoulders, trying to sort her words into some sort of sense. “Sorry—I’m making a real hash of this, aren’t I? It’s just not that easy to say.”
Lisa leaned forward and put her hand over her sister’s. “Just say it. Come on. This is me you’re talking to. I don’t need things sugarcoated.”
“Okay.” Amanda took a deep breath and looked straight at Lisa. What was holding her up, she realized, was knowing how to describe the man she was talking about. “Donald isn’t my dad.”
“What?”
“Donald…Dad. He isn’t…he wasn’t…my biological father. He wasn’t my dad.”
“Shit.” They sat in a stunned silence for a few seconds.
Amanda narrowed her eyes in an examination of Lisa’s face. “So you’re surprised?”
“Of course I’m surprised! You thought I knew?”
“You were close, the two of you. Closer than the rest of us. I thought she might have confided in you.”
“Not that close, apparently. I had no idea.” She shook her head incredulously. “Bloody hell, Mand.”
Amanda was almost comforted by Lisa’s incredulity. She didn’t think she would have liked it, if it had turned out that Lisa had known all along. And, in a funny way, it helped that her sister was just as shocked as she was. Well, almost. She still knew who her dad was.
Lisa’s eyes were screwed up now, as she thought. “Do you think Mark knows?”
“She says he doesn’t, in the letter. She said no one did.”
“Bloody hell, Mand.”
Amanda pulled the letter out of her bag and handed it to Lisa. It was easier to let her read it for herself. Lisa’s lips moved as she slowly digested its contents. Amanda stared out of the window at the manic sale shoppers.
When Lisa had finished, she put the letter down on the table. The top corner of it lay on a small spill of wine, and red spread like a stain across the