“He’s involved. He’s been coming to my appointments and stuff, and he’s helping out with money too. Simon’s going to be the child’s father, but nothing more than that.”
Dylan was watching her as she spoke, his dark eyes on her face. “So you’re not with him, then?”
“Nope. I’m single and carefree, me. Out on the pull every night.”
Dylan gave a soft laugh; then his shoulders fell. “Bloody hell, Libby. This whole time, I’ve thought you were in a relationship with him again.”
“I’m so sorry. It never occurred to me that you’d think that.”
“It’s notyourfault. I blame old Sam and his bat ears.” He leaned back against the bench and exhaled.
“While we’re talking about Sam...” Libby paused, chewing the inside of her lip. “When we were talking at the hospital, he told me that your girlfriend had been to visit you.”
“My girlfriend?”
“Yes. And your dad told me about her too.”
“Hang on a sec—you talked to my old man?” Dylan waslooking at her, his eyes narrowed. “He didn’t come to the hospital, did he?”
“Not as far as I know. But that first day when you didn’t turn up at Frank’s, I went looking for you at your flat. And your father answered the door.”
“Oh, Jesus,” Dylan said, throwing back his head. “I had no idea.”
“He told me that you’d run away with your girlfriend, and that was why you’d gone missing.”
“What? That bloody man!”
Small red dots had appeared on Dylan’s cheeks, and Libby was suddenly reminded of the first time she’d met him, when he’d shouted at her on the bus.
“He’ll have done it on purpose,” Dylan said. “He can’t help himself; it’s like he enjoys fucking up my life.”
“Dylan.” Libby reached out and rested her hand on top of his, and she heard him take a quick breath.
“Sorry,” Dylan said, his voice dropping. “My dad has this ability to wind me up; he always has. What else did he say to you?”
“Not much, we didn’t chat for long. But he did mention your mum.”
Libby saw a flash in Dylan’s eyes. “What did he say about her?”
“That she’d run away when you were little.”
“He said that, did he?” Dylan gave a sharp laugh and shook his head. “She didn’t run away; he drove her away. My father is a cruel bastard, and he made her life hell. In the end, she had to get out for her own safety. If she’d stayed, I don’t think she’d still be alive today.”
“Oh my god.”
The rage had gone from Dylan’s eyes, replaced by a weary sadness. “It wasn’t just the violence, although there was plenty of that. He made her think that she was worthless, that she was a bad mother and wife. He ground her down so much that she started to think everything was her fault—every time he got drunk and hit her, she thought she deserved it.”
“Your poor mum.”
“It’s a miracle she got out, really, and I’m grateful every day that she did.”
“And you?”
Dylan let out a slow sigh. “She wanted to take me, but he said he’d kill her if she tried. And she was so scared of him, she believed him. I only found that out years later, though, when she got in touch again.”
“How old were you when she left?”
Dylan blinked slowly. “Seven.”
