Joti handed Vic a steaming mug of tea and sniffed loudly. ‘I’m being stupid. I’m all right now. It’s just, it would have been my dad’s birthday today.’
The magical sound of birdsong coming from the apple tree at the bottom of Joti’s garden gave relief to the mood for a second.
‘It’s so lovely to be sat outside, at last. But no wonder you’re upset. Gosh, with you being the age you are, I’m assuming your dad must have died fairly young?’
‘No, he was eighty-eight when he died a year ago – my mum was much younger than him.’ She let out a little laugh. ‘Ironic that a heart surgeon should drop down dead from a heart attack, but a good way to go, I reckon. Instant; no suffering. At a ripe old age.’ Joti’s voice tailed off. ‘Sadly, unlike my mum.’
‘Oh no. So your mum has passed, too?’
‘Yes, she died in a car accident in Sydney, just two years after I was born. I was in the car and survived without a scratch. The headline was: “Miracle Baby Survives Horror Crash”. My one claim to fame.’
‘Oh, Joti, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what else to say. You’ve lost your dad, your marriage has ended and you’ve moved to the other end of the country in the space of a year.’
‘I know. Some days I don’t know how I put one foot in front of the other, and now, well… What is happening today is just, well, on a different level.’
Vic was beginning to think that maybe being HIV-positive wasn’t the worst thing in the world, when put into the context of other people’s lives. ‘Oh shit. What is it?’
‘Can I show you something, Vic? It’s personal, but I feel I can trust you.’
‘Of course.’ Vic took a sip of her tea.
Joti ran inside, then came out holding a letter. ‘My dad’s solicitor in Australia gave me this when he read his will. And I’d like you to look at it, as it is the reason I chose to live in Windsor.’
The beautiful writing on crisp white paper caused Vic’s thoughts to turn to Jerico Flint for a fleeting second. ‘It is so him, another Mister, just like my ex-husband.MisterJonathan Selfish Adams this time, and the brusque bedside manner he was so famous for.’ Joti huffed.
Vic began to read.
Dear Joti, my beautiful daughter,
If you are reading this, then your stepmother and I must be dead. I felt the time was right to tell you that I am not your biological dad. Never doubt that I have loved you as if I was, as did Katy.
‘Katy was your stepmother, I take it?’ Vic asked. Joti nodded. Vic carried on.
But maybe if your real father is still around, he will want to meet you and you won’t be all alone in this world.
I loved your mother dearly. Who wouldn’t? She was kind, gracious, undeniably beautiful and so much fun, but she could never love me like she loved your real father. Never. I knew that.
He sent a letter, you see, to our house in Australia. Your mum never knew I read it, of course, even though I had discreetly tornthrough the PO box number, so she couldn’t reply. So all she had to go on was that he was sober and missed her, and that he probably lived in Windsor and had signed off as JT. And despite him professing to be a friend, she had mentioned a Jake, and when she had said his name her whole being lit up. I could feel the love through the pages. I also worked back the dates of when you were born and I knew you couldn’t possibly be mine. When she told me that she was taking you to see a great-aunt in England, I knew where she was going. She was going to him. She’d packed for weeks, not days. I’m not stupid. You were a mile from the airport when the accident happened. Like I’ve told you so many times, your mum wouldn’t have suffered and I still can’t get over the absolute miracle that you survived. Even more reason that you must know where you came from. As must he. You are a special girl, Joti. You really are.
You have reminded me so much of her all my life. And even though you moved away, you gave me such joy when you came over to see me and Katy. You really did.
I am so sorry for only sharing this with you now, though, my darling. I didn’t want to confuse you. But if I’m honest, more selfishly, I didn’t want to lose you.
Please forgive me, my cherub, but most importantly, be happy.
Please be happy XX
An open-mouthed Vic put the letter down on the garden table.
‘Mad, isn’t it?’ Joti smiled.
‘Wow. Just wow.’ Vic’s voice was now shaking. ‘So you are taking the chance, that this… this Jake is still in Windsor, I guess?’
‘It’s a long shot but a good start to make enquiries, and quite frankly it’s all I have. And it was easier than putting a pin in the map when I knew I wanted to get out of Edinburgh.’
Vic then had to ask the question. ‘What was your mum’s name, Joti?’
With tears in her eyes, Joti replied, ‘Malini. Her name was Malini.’
