My Sister’s Secret (15 page)

Maybe, after all these years, he wants to come clean…and Aunt Hope knows it.

‘Did Mum go to Kazakhstan with him the year before I was born?’ I ask.

She’s quiet for a few moments. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘Is there a chance—’ I hesitate. This is huge. I almost don’t want to know. I see my dad and his sparkling green eyes. I remember the way he used to hold me so close, call me his ‘special girl’. I want
him
to be my dad, not this stranger. But I
must
know. ‘Could Niall Lane be my father?’

It sounds ridiculous when I say it out loud and I expect Aunt Hope to laugh. But instead she stays quiet.

‘Aunt Hope,’ I say, aware of the tremble in my voice. ‘Please tell me.’

‘I don’t know,’ Aunt Hope says in a resigned voice. ‘Your parents had a little falling out back then. Your mother disappeared for a week or so. That’s all I know.’

The memory of Dad holding me begins to fade. I feel sick. ‘A “little falling out”? What do you mean?’

‘You’re getting hysterical. Take deep breaths. One, two…’

‘Oh my God! Oh my God.’ I look up at the ceiling. Is this really happening? ‘Why didn’t you say?’

‘I didn’t know myself, Willow. Why rake up old dirt? You loved your father.’

‘If he
was
my father.’

I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror behind the bar, I’m sat hunched on my stool, arm wrapped around my tummy, phone to my ear.

‘Willow, are you there?’ my aunt asks.

‘I’m here.’ My head swims slightly. I can’t tell if it’s from the beer or the shock. ‘I think I need to lie down, take this all in.’

‘Come home,’ she says. ‘You shouldn’t be doing all this alone.’

‘I had no choice, did I? If you’d just told me the truth from the start…’ I let my voice trail off. What’s the point? It feels like we’ve had this argument a million times lately. ‘I’m going to bed.’

‘You’ll come back to the UK soon?’

‘Yes. Soon. I’ll call you when I know. Night.’ I hang up and lean back in my chair. Then I catch a glimpse of Luki on reception. If his ‘mother’ can shed some light on Niall Lane, then I need to go there tomorrow.

I drag myself up from the stool, feeling the weight of my mother’s secrets on my shoulders.

Luki lives in a huge brown and white chalet with a wooden veranda spread out around it. It looks like it needs some work; some of the wood is rotting, the walls are filthy. It’s set on a huge piece of land dotted with animal pens, goats and pigs grazing and snuffling. Neat vegetable gardens stretch across the land, overlooked by those icy mountains.

‘How many of you live here?’ I ask as we walk towards the house.

‘Just twenty-six right now.’

I step over a creepy-looking doll, its smashed eye staring up at me. ‘So you’re a bit like a commune?’

‘We don’t define ourselves.’

I smile. ‘No, I thought you wouldn’t.’

We walk around the back of the house. A few people are strolling around in the late afternoon light, hugging each other in greeting, tending to the vegetables or animals. All of them have buzz cuts like Luki…even the women. I put my hand to my hair. A few inches shorter and I’d fit right in. They’re dressed pretty normally though, no hippy skirts or bare feet. A woman in her forties with startling green eyes spots Luki and runs towards him, pressing her lips against his. Then she skips off again.

‘One of my mothers,’ he explains.

‘Interesting way to kiss your mother.’

He rolls his eyes. ‘See? Silly society rules. It’s just lips.’

‘If you say so. How many
mothers
have you got?’

‘Seven.’

‘And your real mother, as in the one who gave birth to you?’

‘Judy gave birth to me,’ Luki says.

We step on to the veranda. In the corner is a woman breastfeeding a chubby baby, a thick fur blanket slung around them. She looks up at me and smiles. I wonder if she’s the baby’s biological mother.

‘Do you have lots of fathers too?’ I ask him.

He nods. ‘Children born here don’t know who their biological fathers are.’

I raise an eyebrow. But then, who am I to judge? Turns out I might not either.
And haven’t I had more than one woman caring for me? First the mother who gave birth to me, then my aunt.

I rub my temples. This is all giving me a headache. I hope they have beer.

We step into the house. It looks like all the walls have been knocked down to create just one huge area with a fire pit in the middle, orange flames sparking off each other. A long table lines its centre and beyond, cushions are scattered all over a red felt floor, and there are some wooden benches too. On one of those benches sits a woman in her fifties with very pale skin and eyelashes. She’s dressed in jeans and a red turtleneck jumper…and, of course, the obligatory crew cut.

‘Darling Luki,’ the woman says in a British accent as she kisses Luki.

‘This is Willow,’ Luki says, introducing us.

She smiles. I stay where I am for a moment, worried she might kiss me on the lips too. But instead, she gestures to the bright blue cushion. ‘Please sit, Willow,’ she says. ‘We’re happy to welcome you. I’ll make you a warm drink.’ She heads over to what looks like a cauldron and uses a ladle to pour a dark liquid into two chunky stone mugs. When she brings them over the strong scent of chocolate, cinnamon and spices make my mouth water. I take a sip and it tastes like a small slice of heaven.

‘My own recipe for
heisse schokolade
,’ she says. ‘Chocolate, cinnamon, vanilla and cayenne peppers with just a little hint of rum,’ she adds, pinching her fingers together to show a small measurement before letting her fingers move apart as Luki laughs.

‘This is just what I needed, thank you,’ I say, taking another sip.

‘Where do you live?’ she asks me.

‘Everywhere and nowhere,’ I say. ‘I don’t really have a base.’

‘A nomad.’

‘I suppose.’ Isn’t that how Viktoria described Niall? I squirm in my seat. I don’t know whether Niall and I really are so similar, or if I’m just reading into it.

‘Has Luki explained how we live?’ she asks.

‘A little.’

‘Did he tell you about Otto?’

I shake my head.

‘Good,’ she says, nodding. ‘It means you will come to this with an open mind.’

‘Why do I need an open mind?’ I ask.

‘The artist Otto Muehl ran a commune just outside Vienna,’ Luki explains. ‘There were many good things about it.’ His face darkens. ‘But many more bad things too.’

‘We don’t have to talk about that,’ Judy says, waving her hand around. ‘That’s in the past. All that matters is that Jens, the first man who came here, was once a member of that community.’

‘So is that where your unique approach to family comes from?’

She nods. ‘We believe everything should be shared, possessions, love, everything. No one person has the right to own the title of, say, “mother” or “son” or “nephew”. We are all responsible, we are
all
family.’

I think of Aunt Hope. She always made it clear to me that she wasn’t my mother, she was my
aunt
.
It confused me to begin with. Everyone else had a mummy, why couldn’t Aunt Hope be mine? I lived with her, she tucked me into bed, read to me like the other mummies did. But as I grew older, it suited me not to call her my mum. In my mind, it was clear: Aunt Hope didn’t give birth to me so she wasn’t my mother, never would be. But now I wonder if that was just a security blanket for me, a way to deal with the hurt and confusion of not being allowed to see her as a mother. One of my friends was adopted. There was absolutely no confusion for her: her parents were her parents, full stop. The woman who gave birth to her, the man who was her biological father? Yes, there was a blood connection but beyond that, it was nothing compared to what she had with her parents. So why couldn’t it have been that way with Aunt Hope?

‘Anyway, we talk too much about ourselves,’ Judy says. ‘What’s brought you here?’

‘She knows Niall,’ Luki explains. ‘The C from the tree is her mother.’

Judy nods, a small smile on her lips. ‘I see.’

‘How did you know Niall?’ I ask.

‘He stayed here many years ago.’

‘Did he say anything about my mum?’

Her smile deepens. ‘She was his great love.’

I look down into my hot chocolate, trying to control my breathing. ‘Was she here with him?’ I ask, not really wanting to know the answer.

‘No.’

I let out a breath of relief. ‘Did he say anything else about my mum, about their relationship?’

‘Yes, many things, I’m sure.’ She leans across and puts her hand on my arm, looking into my eyes, pity in her own. ‘But it was many years ago, Willow, and I can’t remember. All I do remember is that they lived together near where I was born in Norfolk at some point.’

Norfolk. The location of yet another submerged forest.

‘They
lived
together?’ She nods and I feel my cheeks flush. Aunt Hope hadn’t mentioned they’d lived together. But then she hadn’t mentioned much else either. ‘Anything else you can remember? Did he say anything about Kazakhstan?’

‘He was there with your mother.’

Laughter and chatter fills the room as people enter, plates of food in their hands.

‘You must stay for dinner,’ Judy says.

‘I really ought to get back,’ I say, needing to be alone to process everything.

‘What for?’ Luki says. ‘We have good food and even better wine. Please?’

I watch people take their seats, the children running over and grabbing bread rolls. Some peer up and wave at me. Maybe I should stay. Luki’s right, what have I got to go back to, another lonely night in a hotel room?

I shrug. ‘Why not?’

Luki keeps an eye on me throughout dinner, introducing me to everyone, drawing me into conversations, keeping my glass filled with delicious sweet wine. And Judy watches me often, smiling whenever I catch her eye. At first, it makes me feel a little uncomfortable. But the more wine I drink, the more I like it, as though someone’s watching out for me.

When I’m not being drawn into a conversation, I find myself trying to figure out which kid belongs to whom. But I really can’t tell. All the kids seem comfortable with all the adults, running around for cuddles and attention from each one. If one goes too far – like a little boy who decides to jump on to the table and try to walk down its centre – they’re punished with a quick smack to the bum by whichever adult is closest.

I also watch the couples in the crowd. Do they swap around? Luki seemed to suggest that. Maybe Mum and Dad had an open relationship. No, that feels wrong. But whatever it was they had, it’s clear Mum loved Niall too at some point if she lived with him, travelled with him.

After dinner, we all sit down on the cushions and that’s when the entertainment starts. One by one, people are encouraged by Jens, the man who started everything and who seems to be in charge, to perform, whether that be singing, playing some instrument, dancing, even reading poetry, which makes me think of Aunt Hope. Even Luki gets up to sing some traditional Austrian song in an off-key voice, though you wouldn’t guess it the way everyone cheers and claps. It takes all my strength to stop myself from bursting out laughing.

‘I’ve never had such a surreal dinner in my life,’ I say, a couple of hours later as I sit outside with Luki, staring up at the stars. We’re sitting on the back of a truck, a thick blanket wrapped around us as we share a bottle of red wine. I ought to be cold, it’s autumn after all, but the wine and Luki’s proximity keep me warm.

‘Why surreal?’ he asks, taking a sip of the drink before passing the bottle to me. His lips are red from the wine, the hints of blond hair on his shorn head turned white under the glare of the moon. He looks like a boy.

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ I say, smiling to myself. ‘I don’t mean it in a bad way, just different from what I’m used to.’

‘Well, it’s very normal for me. I would probably find your family life strange.’

‘Family? I don’t really have a family.’

‘What about your aunt?’

I take a slug of wine. ‘We don’t see much of each other nowadays.’

‘She took you in though, cared for you, gave you a home.’

‘I know. But—’ I glance towards the tent, see the spark of orange light coming from it, the laughter and the music. ‘My childhood wasn’t loud and warm like it is here. When I look back on it, it all feels very cold and very quiet. I get scared sometimes. When my aunt Hope dies, I’ll have no family and I’ll just end up like Mad Shoe Lady.’

‘Mad Shoe Lady?’

I explain about the homeless woman in Busby-on-Sea.

‘You will never be a Mad Shoe Lady, you clearly have terrible taste in shoes,’ he says, gesturing towards my dusty walking boots.

I can’t help but laugh. ‘I bet you had a wonderful childhood.’

Luki looks thoughtful for a few moments. ‘It wasn’t so wonderful,’ he says after a while. ‘I’d have liked to have known my father.’

‘I thought you said you have many fathers?’

He looks up at me, blue eyes sad. ‘I know who my father is, Willow. My biological father, as you say. I pretend it doesn’t matter but it does.’

I think of the men I saw earlier. ‘Does he live here?’

He shakes his head. ‘He lives everywhere and nowhere.’

I go very still.

‘That is why I go to the lake,’ he says. ‘I like to visit the etching. It’s all I know of him.’

‘Niall Lane’s your father?’

He nods.

I examine his face.

Everything is different now. Luki could be my
brother.

‘How do you know?’ I ask, my voice trembling.

‘My mother told me.’

‘Does Niall know?’

‘Yes, he sends me his photos.’

‘Just photos? So you’ve never met him?’

He shakes his head.

I look at him in disbelief. Is this what Niall Lane does, sow his seed then disappear?

‘What’s wrong, Willow? You look very shocked.’

‘I am. And—’ I pause. How can I say this? ‘There’s a small chance – okay,
more
than a small chance – he might be my father too.’

His eyes widen. Then his face breaks out into a huge smile. ‘I have a sister?’