“Kath! Tell me what?”
“That you were an accident.”
“You mean she was fibbing when she said ‘you were a gift from God’?” My voice is sharp. “I’d guessed that.”
“It means Dad was careless, Archer. Think about that. Our perfect father made a mistake. But it’s not only that.” She hesitates. Then she says, softly, as if she’s afraid he might somehow overhear, “Dad had an affair.”
My jaw drops. For the second time in about fifteen minutes, my brain screeches to a halt. “What? When? With whom?”
“I was eleven. Dad went to Christchurch for a conference with some of the lawyers at the firm. And while he was there, he slept with one of his colleagues. Her name was Anthea. When they got back, Anthea wanted to continue seeing him, but he refused. She turned up at the house one night and caused a scene. I can remember it happening, although I didn’t understand what was going on at the time.”
I’m so shocked, I can’t think what to say. I walk around the breakfast bar and sit heavily on one of the stools. “I don’t believe it.”
“It’s true. I remember the smell of Anthea’s perfume—it was so exotic and sensual. Mum sending me to bed. Raised voices. The door slamming. And afterward Mum crying while they talked. Later, not long before she died, Mum told me what had happened— that Anthea came to the house to tell her, thinking it would break them up. But Mum just told her their marriage was strong enough to withstand anything, and Dad told her to go away, and in the end she did, and she resigned the next day.”
“And it never became public?”
She shakes her head. “Mum said Dad was terrified everyone would find out, but as far as I know, Anthea never told anyone.”
She falls quiet, and we sit there, me breathing heavily, Kath looking upset. “Maybe I shouldn’t have told you,” she says, “but I’ve watched you beat yourself up so many times because you thought you’d let Dad down, and I couldn’t bear it anymore.”
“No,” I say quietly, “you did the right thing.”
“Mum made me promise not to tell you because she didn’t want you to think badly of him. But they’re both gone. It’s just me and you now. And I can’t bear to watch you punish yourself because you think you’ve let him down. He was a great man in many ways. But he doesn’t deserve to be worshiped. He was just a man, Archer, and you are every bit as good a man as he ever was.”
“I’m not,” I say automatically.
But she leans forward and taps on the table, saying, “You are, and in fact you’re better than he was because you have a much kinder heart. We both tell ourselves that we’ve only gotten where we are because he pushed us, but he did it by making us think that if we didn’t meet his high standards, we were a failure. He made no allowance for the fact that we’re human, and we made mistakes, even though he was clearly fallible.”
I’m having trouble processing it all. First Beth, and now this. Dad had an affair? And he forgot to use a condom. I had so many lectures as a boy and a teen about being careful and responsible, and about what makes a man great. I thought I could never aspire to his dizzy heights. And now I find out how flawed he really was.
I feel as if there’s been an earthquake, and my whole worldview has crumpled to the ground. At the moment I’m still trembling from the aftershocks.
What will be left standing when the dust clears?
Chapter Twenty-One
Beth
I cycle slowly along the path beside the beach. It’s a warm evening, and the clouds are hanging heavy on the horizon, threatening rain. The sky is the color of an eggplant to the east, pumpkin to the west. I head south, back to the Ark and the cottage.
It’s been a great temporary place to stay, but I’m going to have to find myself somewhere more permanent soon. Especially now that I might have a baby to look after. If I don’t have a miscarriage. Years of watching my sister try to get pregnant have made it abundantly clear that it’s a real possibility. But I can’t just wait to see if I miscarry. I need to make a decision as to whether I’m going to go ahead with the pregnancy.
My eyes feel hot and scratchy in their sockets as I think about Archer’s reaction. When I’d first seen the positive result on the testing stick, I’d hoped he might be pleased after his initial surprise had worn off. But when I saw his face as he processed the news, I realized how naive I’d been.
He’s so kind, gentle, and considerate that I’ve been thinking of him like the perfect guy, a knight in shining armor with a heart of gold, sweeping in to rescue me.
But he’s not perfect. He’s just a man. A man who has an incredibly strong sense of right and wrong, and who sets himself such high standards that it’s no surprise he fails to meet them at times. I love him for that, and I’m not going to blame him for his reaction.
But I am disappointed in it. Maybe what we had was real, but it wasn’t strong enough to survive real life. I’ve been living in a dream world, and now it’s time to pull on my big girl pants, be a grownup, and work out what I’m going to do about this mess on my own.
Gosh, what a scary thought.
Am I really brave enough to bring a baby into this world alone? I know Archer will be supportive. I have no doubt that when he’s had time to think about it, his responsible side will kick in, and he’ll help me as much as he can. He’ll come to the antenatal clinics, and he’ll help me choose a name, and maybe he’ll even be there at the birth.
But that’s not the same as beingwithme. Being together. The baby has shone a light on our relationship and revealed it to be like a soap bubble—beautiful but ephemeral, a moment in time, perfect and yet with no substance at all. I’ve been stupidly romantic in thinking of it as some kind of fairy tale, as if we were meant to be, destined for eternity together. We were in soft focus, and now we’re in the harsh spotlight, blinking and realizing it for what it is. An affair that was pleasurable, but purely physical.
As I cycle past PAWS, a hot tear scalds down my face. I dash it away impatiently, not wanting to break down before I get home. Not much further now. I’ll get in, have a good cry, drink half a bottle of wine, and crash out.
