Page 15 of Possession Under the Southern Stars

She’s silent for a moment. Then she says, “What?”

“It came to the museum. It says he saw an article on the opening of the museum last year, and it had a photo of the staff.” I try to hold back the tears that threaten to fall. “How could he recognize me when I haven’t seen him for twenty years?” When she doesn’t answer, nausea rises inside me. “Dee? What do you know that I don’t?”

“I only found out myself last year,” she whispers.

“Found out what?”

“Mum’s in contact with him.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “What?”

“She writes to him once a month. Always has.”

I’m so shocked, I can’t think what to say.

“She said despite what he did, he’s still our father, and he deserves to be kept informed about us.”

My palm is growing sweaty where I’m gripping the phone. “Deserves? He doesn’t deserve to know anything about us.”

“Hey, girl, you’re preaching to the converted. I hit the roof. Yelled at her. Made her cry. I told her it was a major breach of our privacy, and she had no right to tell him anything about us.”

It dawns on me then. “Did this happen before the wedding?”

“Yeah, just two weeks before.”

It had been a very strange affair. Deanna and Mum had been cool and distant, although neither of them would admit why. I didn’t pay much attention; they’ve always clashed, and I was caught up in my own relationship drama, as Ian didn’t want to go to the wedding, and we’d argued a lot about it before I finally convinced him to go with me.

“What has she told him about us?” I ask, feeling as if cockroaches are crawling over my skin.

“I’m not sure, but she’s obviously sent him photos.”

I’m so angry it’s making my chest hurt. It’s an unfamiliar emotion for me.

“Is she still writing to him?” I ask. “After you spoke to her about it?”

“I asked her not to, but obviously I can’t be sure. It wouldn’t surprise me if she was. What else did he say in the letter?”

“He wants me to visit him.”

“For fuck’s sake.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re not going to, are you?”

“A world of no. I don’t think I’d be physically able to walk through the prison doors. My legs wouldn’t hold me up. And anyway, I don’t want to see him. Or hear from him, ever again.”

“Good.” Her voice is firm. “Tear the letter up and throw it away and then forget about him, Hal.”

“Okay.”

She hesitates. “Are you going to tell Mum?”

“I don’t know.” I’m so incredibly hurt. Like Dee, I want to make her sit down and then yell at her, to make her understand how upset I am. But what will that achieve, in the long run?

“I am sorry you were the one he wrote to,” she says. “You’ve always been softer than me. I know it’s going to upset you for some time, and he shouldn’t get to do that. Just remember how far we’ve come, and what you’ve achieved without him.”

I slide down in the beanbag so my head is resting on the back, look up at the ceiling, and sigh. “Yeah, all the amazing things I’ve done in my life. That’s why I’m sitting in this crappy apartment, single, with only noodles to look forward to tonight.”

---