“How old were you then?”
“I was nineteen. Our affair lasted eight months. Until the day I told him I was pregnant.”
That statement landed like a punch.
Abby swallowed. “I take it he wasn’t pleased.”
“That’s an understatement. He didn’t want me to be pregnant. He was furious. He thought I’d done it to trap him. Ihadn’t, as it happens. It was an accident, and one he was very much a part of.” She reached for Abby’s hand. “But I was thrilled. And he saw how thrilled I was and assumed I’d done it on purpose.”
“So he left because of me.”
“No.” Alexandra squeezed her hand tightly. “You were the excuse. He would have left anyway. He was that kind of man. But that assumption isexactlywhy I didn’t tell you. He was a different man from my father, but they did have one thing in common—they both shied away from responsibility. The degree to which he did that only emerged after he was killed.”
“It was a road accident? That part was true?”
“Yes. He was driving away from me. Upset, no doubt. Panicking. Afraid of what I might do.”
“What did he think you were going to do?”
“Tell his wife, I assume. I knew none of this at the time. I wasn’t his next of kin, so I wasn’t even informed of his death. It started as a rumour around the hotel. Then his wife turned up looking for me.”
“Oh no.”
“It came as a shock when she introduced herself.” Her mother gave a tired smile. “As you can imagine, it wasn’t the most comfortable encounter. It turned out he was more married than he’d claimed to be. His wife was as shocked to hear that they were supposedly estranged as I was to hear that they weren’t. It was an enlightening conversation.”
“That must have been awful for you.” Abby thought about her mother, her trust already broken by the behaviour of her father. “It must have taken a lot for you to trust someone again, and he let you down badly. What a horrible situation.”
“Yes, and for her, although she handled it with great dignity.
I wasn’t his first affair.”
“But—” Abby frowned. “He left you the hotel. That was how you got started. I know it was in trouble, but—”
“He left me nothing.” Her mother’s voice was flat. “He left you nothing. It was his wife who gave me the hotel.”
“Hiswife?”
“Yes. I’m not even sure what she did or how she did it, but she spoke to lawyers and then came and spoke to me. She didn’t feel it was right that he’d left you with no support, and nor did she want to hold on to a hotel that she would associate with his infidelity. She wanted a fresh start. And she warned me that the hotel was something of a poisoned chalice because it wasn’t doing well, but I didn’t care about that. I knew I could turn it around.”
Abby was silent for a moment, absorbing that new piece of information.
“I can’t believe she did that—”
“It was unbelievably generous.Shewas generous. She had every right to punish me and turn away, but she didn’t. She gave me a helping hand, and I never forgot that.”
Abby swallowed the lump in her throat. “Did you stay in touch?”
“No.” Her mother gave a humourless laugh. “She didn’t want the reminders. And I wouldn’t have wanted them, either.”
“Did she have children herself?”
“No. They’d decided together that they didn’t want children, which also explained why he panicked. Anyway, last thing I heard—which was many years ago—she’d moved to Australia. I hope she built a good life for herself. She deserved that.”
Abby sat for a moment, absorbing this information. As a child, she’d occasionally imagined wistfully how it might have been to have her father in her life, but the scenarios she’d conjured in her young brain all had a fairy-tale quality to them. Herfather teaching her to ride a bike. Her father cheering her on in a swimming competition or listening intently as she played the piano. It was funny how when you yearned for something, you assumed you’d get the best possible version.Be careful what you wish for.
Abby was silent for a moment, digesting the enormity of it and trying to put herself in her mother’s shoes. “Who was with you when I was born?”
“I was alone, but I had a kind midwife.”
