The room spins around me.
“I’m sending you a photo by email now. Take a look at it.”
My phone pings a second later. I look at the photo attached to the incoming email. I can’t breathe. It’s been sixteen years since Mum left, but I’d recognise her anywhere. Age has been kind to her. Either that, or she colours her hair and knows how to cover crow’s feet and laughter lines with makeup.
I press the phone to my ear. “That’s her.”
“She’s going by the name Erika James. I have a phone number for you.”
“C-can you tell me anything about her?”
“She’s remarried and has two children with her current husband.”
My legs turn to jelly, and I slump against the counter. Remarried? How could she have remarried? Dad never told us that they’d got divorced. If they had, surely they must have been in contact after she left, even if only through their solicitors? My insides twist, and my face contorts into a grimace.
“I’ll write up a full report for you,” George says. “But in the meantime, I thought you’d like the phone number.”
“Yes, of course, thank you.” I write it down as he reads it out to me.
We exchange a few more words, but I’m running on autopilot until the call ends. Then I stand, staring at the number. A whirlwind rips through me. I have so many questions, and I’m more confused than ever. Remarried. Two kids. Mum has a whole life. Without me and Beau.
9
QUINN
After working, sleeping, working, and sleeping again, I’m ready for a break. I go downstairs in search of company out of habit. There’s nearly always someone else in the house. If my housemates want company, they’ll be in the kitchen or the lounge. Except for today, no one is. If it weren’t for the sound of Hendrix filming drifting through the house, I’d be convinced I was the only one in.
I go upstairs and knock softly on Stefan’s door. He opens it a few seconds later. He focuses on me and smiles. I’d smile back, except his eyes are red.
“What’s wrong?”
Stefan stares at me. Is he going to fob me off like he did on Monday morning? I step closer, wrap my arms around him, and press my cheek against his shoulder. He doesn’t need to talk if he doesn’t want to, but I want him to know that I’m here and I care. He returns my embrace and pulls me into his room, knocking the door shut with his foot as we go. We stand in the centre of his room, hugging. I want so badly to be able to take away whatever pain he’s feeling. Holding him doesn’t feel like enough.
“I heard from the private investigator.” Stefan’s voice is rough as sandpaper.
Ice encases my heart. Please don’t let it have been bad news. Please don’t let his mum be dead. My knees buckle, reversing our roles in a heartbeat. Now Stefan is the one holding me up, while I’m limp in his arms. He manoeuvres me to his bed and hugs me until I’m able to sit unaided.
“What did they say?” The words are hard to get out, not because of my cataplexy but because of the knot of dread lodged in my throat.
“She’s got a family. A husband and two kids.”
I don’t know what to say. The cage of ice around my heart begins to thaw, yet his revelation doesn’t bring true relief. How can it when his voice is full of so much pain and betrayal?
Stefan swipes his hands over his face. “As far as we knew, Mum walked out and never contacted us or Dad again, but that can’t be true, can it?”
It takes me a moment to fit the pieces together, but when I do, I have a lightbulb moment, complete with an image of one at the edge of my field of vision. It’s a two-dimensional cartoon drawing of a lightbulb in the style of animation that never stays still.
I blink and shake my head to rid myself of the hallucination. “She would have needed a divorce.”
Stefan nods. “Which means he had to have heard from her.” He clenches his fists and presses them against his thighs. “And he had to have granted her the divorce without telling us. He lied to us. Fucking hell. He let us think she might be dead.”
I put my hand over one of Stefan’s fists.
“As for her, she cared enough to get a divorce, but not enough to let us know she was alive.”
My thoughts start flying off on tangents. How can Stefan be sure his mum didn’t try to contact him and Beau? Maybe she didn’t get a divorce, although that would mean her current marriage would be null and void, so that’s probably not what happened. I keep all my thoughts to myself. Casting aspersions won’t help Stefan. There are only two people who can fill in the blanks for him.
“Are you going to ask your dad about it?”
