“I’ll go,” Lucy said, and tiptoed out of the kitchen. Juliet heard the creak of the steps as she went upstairs.
“I think I’ll sit down,” Fiona said after a moment, and sank into one of the kitchen chairs. Juliet retreated back to the Aga. “This is a lovely house,” Fiona said after a moment, and she actually smiled. It made Juliet feel like slapping her.
“Don’t make small talk.”
“Very well, I won’t.” She took a deep breath. “If it helps, I’m sorry for the pain I’ve caused you.”
“If it helps?” Juliet repeated. She felt a fury so fierce and primal, it was like a tsunami about to crash over her. She held it back, but only just. “Actually, it doesn’t. Not that I believe you’re sorry.”
Fiona blinked, clearly shocked by Juliet’s response, and she almost laughed. Had Fiona thought it would be that easy? One transatlantic trip, one apology, and boom. They were all good.
“Well, Iamsorry,” Fiona said after a moment. “But I’m not sure I could have acted any differently.”
“Which turns your apology into a justification.”
Fiona sighed. “Juliet, there are things you don’t understand. Things you don’t know—”
“Things you never told me, you mean.”
“Yes.”
“So tell me, then,” she said, her voice thankfully even.
Fiona pressed her lips together. “I don’t know where to begin.”
“You could begin with why you never wanted me. Or why you acted like you couldn’t stand the sight of me for my entire childhood. Or who my father is. Take your pick.” She spoke almost indifferently, but her nails were digging into her palms.
“They’re all related, really.”
The fact that her mother didn’t deny any of it made Juliet feel like screaming. Or crying. She laughed instead, the sound hard.
“I don’t know who your father is,” Fiona said flatly. She looked directly at Juliet, and the expression in her gray eyes—the same color as hers and Lucy’s—was cold. “I was drunk at a party and I passed out. When I came to, I knew that I’d been raped.”
The bile in the back of Juliet’s throat rose to fill her mouth. Her stomach heaved, but she swallowed, forced it all back. She didn’t trust herself to speak, and after a few seconds she went to the sink and poured herself a glass of water. With her back to her mother she pressed the cool glass against her cheek, took a few deep breaths.
Raped.She should have guessed. She should have realized it was something like this, something so horrible that her mother would feel justified in ignoring and even hating her child. She just hadn’t wanted to entertain such an awful possibility. Herfather was a rapist. She was the daughter of a monster. She closed her eyes and then took a sip of water. Swallowed again and turned around.
“Tell me what happened.”
“I just did.”
“You have no idea who it was?”
“Some idea,” Fiona allowed. “I was at a party at university. I was in my second year, just nineteen years old.” She took a breath and let it out slowly. “Like I said, I got drunk. Really drunk. I was from a conservative family, and I hadn’t had much experience with drinking.”
“And you passed out.”
“Yes, although I don’t remember passing out. The last thing I remember is talking to some guy, a third year. And the next thing I knew, I woke up and it was the middle of the night and I was lying on the floor. Everyone had left, and my clothes were torn, my underwear gone. And I could tell . . . well, of course I could tell.” She paused, her face contorted before she deliberately smoothed out her expression. “I’d been flirting with a couple of guys. Three of them. I think . . . I think it was one of them. Or maybe all of them.” Her voice wavered. “I’ll never know.”
Juliet could hear her blood thundering in her ears. “Did you report it—them?”
“No. It was the nineteen seventies, Juliet, and I’d been drunk and, many people would think, stupid. In those days no one would have taken me seriously. Even women today often don’t report this kind of thing.”
“But I thought you would. With all your issues and campaigning—”
“I wasn’t always like this. At nineteen I was shy and unsure and quiet. And I became even more so after it happened.”
Juliet took a deep breath; her stomach was still churning. “And when you found out you were pregnant? Why didn’t you get an abortion?” A question she couldn’t believe she was asking.Why didn’t you abort me?It was horrible, and yet she had to know.
