Page 47 of The Temp

Tom scratches his chin. ‘Then or since.’

‘No!’

‘Okay.’ Tom exhales at the muted screen. ‘I believe you.’ Thank you, God. Leaning my head back on the headrest, relief washes over me, and then I feel something on my lap. It’s the A4 envelope. It is sealed and addressed to Mr T. Harris. ‘Open it,’ he dares, a coldness seeping from his skin and penetrating mine.

‘What is it?’ I gulp, glancing down at it with trepidation. It’s the divorce papers. We will sell the house. Go our separate ways. Georgia will have to flit between two parents. My eyes skim over the envelope. Normal post – second class — nothing suspicious about it at all.

‘Go on,’ he urges, ‘open it.’ I go to pick it up and then, ‘But before you do, I want you to know one thing. The contents in that envelope change nothing. You, me and Georgia, we’ll always be a family, okay?’ I nod, eyes stinging with tears. At least he wants an amicable separation. We will be like my friend Rosie and her ex-husband Peter. They still go away together as a family. They even stay at each other’s houses during the Christmas and Easter holidays and bring their respective new partners along. One big happy family. I don’t think I could do that. I don’t think I could bear to see Tom with another woman.

I tear the envelope open with tremulous fingers and pull out two sheets of paper. The heading is in big, bold black writing – Alpha Omega Diagnostics. My eyes flit over the contact details, a London address. I start reading.

DNA Test Report

Name of Child: Georgia Hannah Harris.

Alleged Father: Thomas Joseph Harris.

Every hair on my skin stands on end. What the hell? My eyes scan the report — rows and rows and rows of numbers and letters and graphs swim in my vision.

‘I used Georgia’s toothbrush.’ No wonder she couldn’t find it on Tuesday morning. He didn’t utter a word when she accused me of using it and chucking it in the bin. ‘Ordered the kit online. A courier dropped it off at the practice, picked it up the next day. It only took forty-eight hours. I couldn’t open it. I was going to burn it tonight, without reading it. Georgia is my daughter, whether she shares my DNA or not. She means the world to me. Sperm doesn’t make you a dad. There’s no way I’m going to let that lowlife take her from me.’ I nod, eyes filling with fresh hot tears. ‘But for us to move forward, I had to be sure that there was no affair because you must admit, you have been acting weird lately – disappearing in the middle of the night, hushed phone calls in the bathroom.’ If only he knew they were with Linda and Zelda discussing Frank.

‘I promise you, Tom.’ I place a hand on my heart. My celestial being jumps up and down with joy – he doesn’t want a divorce. ‘There’s been no affair, no relationship.’

‘Okay. And there’s nothing else I should know?’

I stare at him in a daze. Yes, there is, actually. I may be an accomplice to attempted murder. My sister stabbed her boyfriend and I got rid of the weapon she used to kill him with. I might rot in prison and you will have to bring up Georgia on your own.

‘Well?’ he says.

I fiddle with my wedding ring. He’s giving you another chance, Bella. Don’t fuck it up. Tell him. Tell him everything. Rid yourself of this burden. He’ll understand. Look at how well he’s taken the news about Liam. ‘No,’ I hear myself say, voice hoarse. I can’t betray my sister.

Tom’s eyebrows shoot up. ‘You don’t sound too sure.’

I swallow. ‘No,’ I say firmly, sitting up straight. ‘There’s nothing else.’

He nods at the papers in my hand. ‘Go on then, put me out of my misery.’

I shake my head. A big tear splashes from my eye and lands on the report as I read it. ‘Oh, Tom,’ I cry, clamping a hand over my mouth.

Tom’s eyes fill. ‘Shhh…it’s okay.’ He pulls me to him and I sob onto his chest. ‘It’s okay. We’re a team. We’ll get through this.’ Taking the papers from my limp grasp, he scrunches them into a ball. ‘I love Georgia with every part of me. Nothing will break our bond.’ A beat and then, ‘We will have to tell her, though. It’s only fair. She might want to meet him.’

Pulling away from him, I take the papers from his hand, unfurl them, and read the result again before handing it to him:

Probability of Paternity – 99.9998%

Chapter 45

We’re snuggled together on the sofa, watching a rerun of Would I Lie to You on Dave. The barely audible cackle of laughter and the buzz of the panel’s voices fill the soothing silence. With the exception of Tom getting up briefly to make us both a Vodka Martini to celebrate the news, we haven’t moved an inch. I moved through that period of tiredness. Makeup sex might’ve had something to do with that, and I’m now awake and alert. Tom is high as a kite. It’s almost as if he’s become a father again for the first time.

‘Shall we go up?’ Tom’s voice breaks into my thoughts. ‘It’s almost one in the morning.’

‘In a minute.’ I snuggle closer to him, not wanting this moment to end.

Tom sighs. ‘I meant what I said,’ he says, playing with my hair. ‘It wouldn’t have made a difference if Georgia wasn’t mine. But God, it’s a relief to know she is, do you know what I mean?’ I murmur in agreement. ‘Your hair’s grown. I like it. Why don’t you leave it long again?’

‘I like this length.’ I look up at him indignantly. ‘Don’t you like it?’

‘Of course I do. You always look lovely.’ Even with all the fat I’ve accumulated? I don’t think so. But I take the compliment and snuggle against him, hearing the soft rhythm of his heartbeat, feeling the rise and fall of his chest. ‘I knew you’d tell me, you know. That’s why I held on to the DNA report.’ He wraps his arms around me, chin resting on my head. ‘You’re rubbish at keeping secrets from me.’

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