Page 77 of The Lie
Leo frowned. ‘So … what? You’re going to just sit here for the rest of your life and feel sorry for yourself?’
Michael nodded. ‘Probably.’ He didn’t care what Leo thought – or anyone else, for that matter. They could harangue him all they liked, feed him pills he didn’t want, make him eat vegetables and move balls from one box to another with that moron glove; it wouldn’t mend what was going on in his head. Nor did it change the fact that Romy – even if they did come together for family occasions – would never look at him again without that veiled aversion in her eyes.
Leo’s face cleared and he laughed. ‘Hey, knock yourself out, then, Dad.’
‘I might do just that,’ he said, also smiling. ‘Unintentionally, of course,’ he added quickly, when he saw his son’s alarm. That was the trouble with being in this state.There was no room for irony or jest. If he said, ‘I’m losing the will to live,’ Imogen would look worried. If he said, ‘Does it really matter if I drink too much at this stage?’ he was being reckless. If he said, ‘I can’t go back to work,’ it was defeatism. Any normal person said these things from time to time, but nobody took them seriously.
Leo got up to clear the tea plates. When he turned from the sink his expression was serious. ‘Dad, this thing with Mum. She absolutely refuses to tell me what it’s about.’ He stopped, his eyes searching his father’s face.
Michael felt himself go rigid.No, he thought instinctively. But Romy’s words rushed back to him again with force. He’d always considered himself fearless, someone prepared to stand up and be counted under any circumstance, and ready to take any calculated risk. But here he was, cowering behind his toxic secret, like a craven sissy, still protected by Romy’s stern compassion, despite his lies. It made him sick to realize what he had become.
Can I do it?he asked himself, panic building in his gut. Leo was watching him.Can I?Every cell in his body screamed, NO. But a persistent voice in his head was egging him on.Go on, Michael. Stop being such a coward and do it. Now.
For another endless moment he hesitated. Then he drew himself up and took a deep breath. ‘Sit down, Leo.’ He waited till his son was seated. ‘I’m warning you, you’re going to be horrified by what I’m about to tell you.’ He stopped, trying to sort the jumble of words in his mind into some coherent package. It felt like a long time before he was able to speak. Leo’s eyes continued to rest on himexpectantly and he shuddered inwardly at the pain he was about to cause his son.
Bracing himself, he waded in. ‘The fact is, I assaulted a girl one night. It was a long time ago … but she was young, only sixteen.’ He swallowed hard, realizing he was twisting his bad hand painfully in the other. Leo was frowning. ‘I thought, entirely mistakenly, that she was attracted to me … and I went too far.’
His son blinked, ‘You mean …’ He shook his head disbelievingly. After a long pause he added, his voice quiet with shock, ‘Who was she?’
‘Her name is Grace.’
Silence.
‘You … raped her?’
Michael shook his head. ‘No. But I might have.’ He cringed as he spoke. ‘I was unintentionally rough with her.’
Silence.
‘And … Mum just found out?’
The story was long. Michael did not hold back as he had with Romy. And Leo did not try to interrupt. Sitting across the table from Michael, he seemed too stunned for speech.
When Michael finally stopped talking, there was an eerie silence in the kitchen, as if neither of them was actually breathing. He wished his son would say something. He had no hope of exoneration, of course, but he wanted to get this over with, to take the heavy blows of disgust and condemnation – the outrage – squarely on the chin. He was ready.
Leo got up in total silence, his face almost blank.
‘Leo?’
His son moved towards the door. ‘Can’t talk to you, Dad. Not now.’
And with that he was gone.
Michael followed him, saw the door slam. He leant against the hall wall and began to cry tears of hopelessness. This, he knew, was his life now. Not just in his own head, but in his son’s too – both his sons, when Rex found out – he was a pariah. He had no real friends. Romy was gone. And Leo would not be back.
But as Michael clumped his solitary way along the corridor to his bedroom, he was aware of the smallest, almost imperceptible lightening in his soul. For the first time in decades he had been completely honest. He was well aware, though, that that was not the end of it. There was something else he needed to do. And until he did that – the potential ramifications of which made him almost nauseous – he knew he would not be able to find even a modicum of peace.
58
Finch strode beside his stepdaughter as they climbed the hill behind his Derbyshire house. It was freezing, the easterly wind bitter. But the sun had shaken off the low clouds in the early afternoon, making Grace jump up from the lunch table and declare they all needed a walk.
Sam had grinned, but adamantly refused. ‘You two go. I’ll sit by the stove and trash my mind with the Sundays.’
‘Snooze off, more like,’ Grace said.
At which Sam had laughed easily and nodded. ‘Hope so. But if you’re nice to me, I might clear up first.’
So Finch had Grace to himself. Which was exactly what he wanted.
