Page 51 of The Forsaken
“Was it you or Ms. Marks who made the assumption that we were twins?”
“It was Ms. Marks. Why does that matter?” the reverend asked.
“It matters because Ms. Marks saw us both and also saw the notes. If she surmised that we were twins, her assumption would be based on that.”
“Whereas mine would have been nothing more than supposition,” Reverend Seaton concluded.
“Well, yes.”
“I don’t think Hetty Marks was the type of woman to jump to unsupported conclusions. Very no-nonsense, she was—a real brick, as we used to call girls like her in my day. I’d be surprised if she got it wrong. Anyway, I wish you luck with your search, Quinn. Ring me if you need anything else, dear,” the reverend said before hanging up.
Quinn sighed. The conversation with Reverend Season had given her a valuable lead, but it also undermined her resolve to give Sylvia a fair chance. Regardless of what Sylvia said, Quinn had to discover the truth for herself. She pushed aside the notepad with the case worker’s name on it and went to get dressed.
Sylvia arrived on time, bearing a box of lintzer tarts. “I had a terrible craving for sweets when I was pregnant,” Sylvia said as she followed Quinn into the kitchen. “Particularly with Jude. I thought the kid would come out begging for sticky toffee pudding.”
“Does he like sweets?” Quinn asked.
“Yes, he does, but he likes lager much more,” Sylvia replied. “I did not have that while pregnant.”
“I made some egg and cress and ham and tomato sandwiches, and a salad. I hope that’s all right,” Quinn added as she invited Sylvia to sit.
“Perfect. I’ll have one of each. Are you experiencing any cravings?” Sylvia asked as she helped herself to some salad.
“Yes, I’ve been craving eggs. Perhaps I’m not eating enough protein. I’ve had an aversion to meat these past few weeks.” Quinn reached for an egg and cress sandwich. “I do crave sweet things as well. I’m looking forward to those tarts.”
“They are to die for. Logan always brings me some when he pops by, which is not as often when things are going well with him and Colin. How’s Gabe? Has he found a job up north yet?” Sylvia asked, her tone carefully neutral.
“Not yet, but he’s looking.”
“I love your idea for Emma’s birthday party. Sounds like a blast. I never got to have such girlie themes, not having a daughter.” Sylvia looked sheepish when she realized how that statement had come out. “I didn’t mean to sound insensitive,” sheadded, stopping short of apologizing. She’d only spoken the truth, as she knew it, but the careless remark stung Quinn nonetheless.
“Quite all right.” Quinn looked across the kitchen table at Sylvia. She looked happy and relaxed as she helped herself to another sandwich. Even now that Sylvia knew Quinn, she obviously felt no regret about missing out on their time together, nor did she try particularly hard to forge ahead with their relationship. Sylvia had been the one to seek Quinn out, but Jude and Logan were her priority, and always would be.
Quinn experienced a sudden thunderbolt of blinding anger. She was tired of her British reserve. She was half-American after all, and Seth wouldn’t have minced words in a similar situation. He’d have come right out and confronted Sylvia head-on, as would Quinn’s biological grandmother. She must have been quite a firecracker in her day. Quinn felt a pang of regret at not having had more time with Rae Besson, especially before the Alzheimer’s set in.
Quinn took a sip of water to steady her nerves and plunged in. Taking Sylvia completely by surprise was the only way to glean anything resembling the truth, and Quinn was no longer concerned with her feelings.
“By the way, Sylvia, when were you going to tell me I have a twin sister?”
Sylvia dropped her sandwich and paled visibly, confirming Quinn’s suspicion that Reverend Seaton and Hetty Marks had been correct. Sylvia reached for her glass of water and took a long sip before finally meeting Quinn’s gaze. “Quinn, I…” She faltered. “How on earth…?”
“Funny thing, that. I met a Reverend Seaton at the BBC offices yesterday. Quite a coincidence, as he was the very man who found me in that cathedral pew nearly thirty-one years ago. We got to talking, and he mentioned the other baby, the one that was left at the hospital on the same day with the same note. Quentin, was it? I see you have a fondness for Q names.”
“Quinn, I don’t know what to say.” Sylvia looked cornered and frightened, but Quinn wasn’t about to stop.
She felt a cool sense of detachment as she watched Sylvia, like an interrogator who’d do anything to extract information from a suspect. “How about you tell me the truth for a change? That would be very refreshing.”
“I have told you the truth,” Sylvia retorted. Angry spots of color bloomed in her cheeks, and her eyes glittered with resentment at having been caught out.
“Have you? Seems to me that you manipulated the facts to suit your own agenda, and that the men you accused of raping you remember a very different version of events. I suppose I should take your word over theirs, but they are very convincing, and have all proved to be more honest than you have been.”
“Quinn, you’re angry. I see that.” Sylvia’s placating tone only served to fuel Quinn’s fury.
“Damn right, I’m angry, Sylvia. Who you slept with when you were a teenager is your own personal business, but not to tell me about a twin sister is a lie of a magnitude that should get its very own category. I’d file it under V for vicious, or D for diabolical.”
“How about M, for misguided?”
“Sylvia, you’re many things, but misguided is not one of them. Are you going to tell me the truth, or are you stalling for time while you try to work out an acceptable version of events in your head?”
