If You Only Knew Read online

  But then, as he’s being wheeled out, he twists his head to look back at me. “I didn’t rape her,” he says, a little louder than necessary. “She wanted it. They all do.” I can hear Claire shushing him and hope that the camera caught that last exchange.

  Chapter 20

  Ellen is already sitting in a booth when I walk into Barbecoa. Stopping for a second, I look at her. She’s leafing through a magazine, pausing every now and then to take a sip of her coffee. There’s a slight tremble to her right hand as she holds the cup.

  We haven’t seen each other since she told me about Maya looking for her birth parents. Coming from behind her, I put a hand on her shoulder. She turns round, her brown hair flying around her face like a satin curtain. “Have you been waiting long?” I ask, kissing her on the cheek, squeezing her shoulder.

  “No, I only got here a short while ago.” Ellen puts away the magazine and straightens her purple cardigan. Not that it needed straightening up. It’s just her habit.

  “Can you ask Maya to babysit on Saturday afternoon?” she asks after we’ve ordered.

  “Yes, of course.” Then, worried my quick answer will make me sound too eager, I add: “Any particular reason?”

  “She was supposed to spend the day at a friend’s while I prepare for her surprise party. But the girl has gone and got chickenpox. I desperately need another excuse to get her out of the house.”

  “Ok, don’t panic, I’ll be glad to help.” My mind is already leaping ahead, trying to think of something to do with Maya, use the opportunity to spend time with her. “How are the preparations going?”

  Ellen runs her fingers through her hair and I am transfixed by how every strand falls back into place as if it is governed by some magnetic pull. “Oh, I don’t know. I’m trying so hard to make sure she doesn’t find out. I’ve been hiding decorations in my wardrobe and always worrying she’ll go in there and find them. That would be such a disaster.”

  A wave of sadness washes over me and I allow myself a moment to imagine what I would have done for Maya’s birthday party. How I wish I was in Ellen’s shoes right now! As if she can read my thoughts, she stops. “Oh, listen to me going on. I should be grateful I have a child to organise a party for. There was a time when I thought we’d never be here.”

  Shrugging off the thoughts of what might have been, I return my focus to Ellen. Time and time again I’ve felt extreme gratitude for the series of events that led Maya to be adopted by the McBrides. Ellen loves Maya fiercely. Yet, she still hasn’t quite got over her ordeal; the years trying to have a child have left their mark on her. Even though she brought it up herself, it’s a sensitive subject and I’d rather not focus on it. Better try to help. “I regularly invite Maya to stay over for dinner, but she’s under the impression you’ll be mad if she’s late.”

  Ellen purses her lips so tight that the skin around them turns to white. “I just want us to have dinner as a family. Is that so bad?”

  “No, of course not,” I respond hastily.

  “So, will you ask her to babysit on Saturday?”

  “Yes, sure. But your house is clearly visible from our kitchen window,” I say, fiddling with my napkin. I don’t tell her that I often linger longer than necessary at the sink, staring at their house, hoping to catch a glimpse of Maya, even though her bedroom is on the other side of the property. “What if she sees people coming in and out? Won’t she suspect?”

  “Ugh, I didn’t even think about that!” She lowers her head in her hands and doesn’t move for a while.

  Then I have an idea. I force myself to appear calm. I can’t sound too excited. I have to make it seem like I’m doing her a favour, like this is the best way to keep Maya occupied and stop her from suspecting that her mother is up to something. “Ellen, I know how to get Maya out of your way. You know how she’s always complaining about her red hair?”

  Ellen grunts. “Oh, she told you about that?”

  “Yeah, she might have mentioned it a couple of times.” I look away from her searching eyes. “What if I took Maya to my hair salon to get her hair coloured? It would get her out of the house for a few hours and she won’t be able to peek.”

  Ellen stares at me, her eyes looking right into mine. “You think she should change her hair colour? That’s a little strange coming from another redhead.”

  My cheeks burn and I take cover behind the large water glass. “I think she’s beautiful,” I start. “It doesn’t matter though, does it? It’s what she thinks that counts. And it would get her away from our street for a few hours. But only if it’s ok with you.” I find myself holding my breath. Hoping that she’ll say yes. It has already become the most important thing for me to make this happen.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” she starts.

  “Come on Ellen, it’s just her hair. It will grow back. It’s not like I’m taking her to get a tattoo.”

  For a few seconds she doesn’t respond and I wonder whether I’ve offended her. “I love her hair. But it’s a good excuse and I’m desperate to get her out of the house,” she says after a while, a sudden sadness washing over her eyes.

  There’s a spring in my step as I leave the restaurant, and walk back to the office. As soon as I’m back behind my desk, I call the salon, hoping for the perfect appointment time.

  “You seem in a good mood,” Jennifer says when she brings me a document to sign.

  “I am,” I answer, handing her some signed papers. Then, as she’s walking out, I ask: “I don’t have any more meetings, do I?”

  “No, there’s nothing on the books.”

  “Then I’m going to leave early today.”

  *

  “Can you stay a little longer? Prepare dinner for the kids while I go over some paperwork and help me give them their baths?”

  “Yes, sure Mrs P,” Maya answers.

  Although I try to convince myself that I’m doing this for Ellen, to buy her more time to prepare for the party, I cannot deny that any extra time to spend with Maya feels like a gift. Taking a seat at the kitchen island, I boot my laptop and start going through a document. Every few seconds I look up and watch Maya. Her head is bent and her eyebrows knitted together as she concentrates on cutting carrots into uniform batons. There’s an illogical fear that she would turn me down, not want me to take her to the hair salon. I want to ask her so badly but find myself dillydallying.

  She looks up and cocks her head to one side, an inquisitive smile spreading across her face. “Are you free on Saturday afternoon?” I ask her.

  “Yes. What time do you need me?”

  Shaking my head, I try to inject an air of mystery into my words. “I don’t need you to babysit. It’s your birthday present.”

  Her eyes open wide and her mouth forms into an O. It’s the exact expression Leah makes when she’s surprised. Maya takes a couple of steps towards me “Really? What is it?”

  “I’m taking you to my colourist. You get to choose your own hair colour.”

  Her mouth drops open as our eyes lock. “That’d be awesome. But Mum will never allow it.”

  “Don’t worry about your mum. I’ve already spoken to her,” I say conspiratorially. “We have her blessing.”

  “You’re kidding! How did you get her to agree to that? I’ve been asking her to take me for ever and she always says no.”

  Her eyes are sparkling and I feel a surge of emotion at her evident joy. “I have my ways,” I respond.

  “This is fantastic. I can’t wait.” She takes a step towards me. My arms ache for her hug. But she stops when Julian calls out for me.

  *

  “Are you ready for this?” I ask Maya as she gets into my car on Saturday morning. The rest of the week had dragged, but finally the much-anticipated day is here.

  “Yes, I can’t wait.” She’s bouncing in the seat as if unable to control the energy that’s building up in her body.

  “I’m glad you’re happy,” I say, smiling at her exuberance.

  “I can’t bel
ieve that you convinced Mum. I’ve tried so many times but never managed to get her to agree.”

  “Stick with me, kid.” I don’t tell her about Ellen’s incessant phone calls, making me promise not to allow Maya to do anything too drastic. She was so close to changing her mind, and it took all my energy and imagination to convince her otherwise. “Think about Maya’s face when she walks in,” I’d urged her. “You don’t want her to suspect and ruin the surprise.”

  The day couldn’t come soon enough for me. This was a rite of passage for any teenager. I was the one taking Maya for her first hair colouring. She might think this is simply a gift, a way of thanking her for her help with the children. But for me it’s much more. This day is special beyond words, even though only I know that. The opportunity to spend time with Maya, just me and her, without the distractions of the children, is priceless, especially since we have not managed to schedule a day for her to spend time with me at the office.

  The roads are mostly empty, just as I’d suspected. “I thought we’d hit traffic,” I lie. “We should have an hour or so to spare before the appointment. How about we go for lunch?”

  “Yes, sure.”

  “I know this little cafe. I go there all the time during my lunch break. It’s tucked into a side street and not many people know about it. I’ll take you there if you promise not to tell everyone about it.”

  “Ooh, a secret haunt. Exciting!”

  Both of us burst out laughing. This feels so normal.

  “How’s school?” I ask when we sit down at a corner table in the empty cafe.

  “Good, I guess.” She pauses. “It’s getting harder though. There’s so much competition, everyone fighting for the same top spots. I have to do more work to be anywhere near the top of my class.”

  My mind drifts back to when I was her age and how determined I had been to ensure I got the best grades and was placed top of my class. Anything but a perfect score irritated me because I expected so much more of myself. Maya must be the same.

  “Feel free to bring your books with you when you’re taking care of the kids. You’ve got to use any opportunity you can to catch up on your studies. And if you need time to study, don’t hesitate to tell me you can’t babysit.”

  “Thank you, but I love spending time with them,” she says. “I’ve always wanted a brother or sister. I missed that experience growing up. I’ve known Julian and Leah since they were born. They’re the closest to siblings I’ll ever have…”

  I force myself to keep my eyes fixed on the menu, blinking rapidly, afraid that she might see the emotion clouding over my eyes.

  *

  “How’s that girl’s case going?” Maya asks, taking a bite out of her steak and kidney pie, something I’d almost insisted she order. “They’re renowned for this. It’s amazing. Trust me,” I’d coaxed.

  “Chloe?” I know who she’s referring to but I’m nervous about how to answer her questions.

  “Yes, the one from the hit-and-run.”

  Maya’s green eyes are wide with curiosity, fixed on me, waiting for answers. I could avoid going into details, give her a generic response. Or I could be honest and tell her about Chloe. At least as much as I can.

  “There’s been a development.” I decide on the latter. “She is having his baby.”

  Maya stares at me, jaw dropped. “So, they’re a couple? Did she run over him because they’d had a fight?”

  “No, she told me in the beginning that he sexually assaulted her. There was no proof but now there’s this baby…”

  “How do you know it’s his baby?”

  “We had tests run to confirm that.”

  “Really? How old’s the baby?”

  “Not born yet.” When I see her confused expression, I say: “Science!”

  Maya pops a piece of the piecrust into her mouth and munches quietly. “How do they do that?”

  “The test?” When she nods, I continue. “It’s just a blood test really.”

  “They take blood from the baby?”

  “No, no,” I say, smiling at the shocked look on her face. “The blood is from the mother and they got a DNA sample from the father.”

  “They can do that?” Her mouth is wide open again.

  “Quite incredible isn’t it?”

  Maya nods and continues eating. I’m about to change the subject, when she says: “So if they can do this with a baby who hasn’t even been born, I imagine it’s much easier after birth.”

  She’s staring at me, her brows knotted, her head slightly tilted to one side. I know that I’m treading on thin ice, that especially after what Ellen told me I should stop the conversation now. I’m not naive and I suspect that Maya’s interest stems, at least partially, from a personal desire to find her own parents. Yet, I cannot stop myself.

  “DNA testing is very common nowadays. I’ve ordered quite a few for work and they tend to be pretty accurate.”

  “So, you have to order blood tests?”

  “There’s not even a need for that. A swab from the inner cheek is enough,” I say, pointing to my mouth.

  “That’s incredible.” After a short pause, she adds: “So anyone can use DNA to track down their family?”

  Taking a deep breath, I exhale slowly. I should back off, change the subject, hope that Maya will forget this exchange. Ellen will be furious if she finds out I discussed DNA testing with Maya, especially after what she told me. Not to mention that if she starts digging and uncovers my secret, I’d be in big trouble. No, that cannot happen. My world would come crumbling down if she finds out who I am. I swallow hard before opening my mouth, intent on changing the subject. A couple of D-list celebrities have sat down at a corner table, providing me the perfect opportunity to deflect Maya’s attention.

  But this is my chance to try and find out what Maya is thinking, what she’s planning on doing. Perhaps she’ll confide in me. “Well, no not really. But the DNA database is growing so there’s an increased chance of finding a match.” I say.

  Maya doesn’t respond, but continues to look at me, willing me to continue with my explanation. And looking at her, I’m flooded with the memory of the moment I saw her for the first time. The moment when I took the final decision to give her up. I feel my chest squeezing and my breath suspended. But, for now, I’ve said enough. Turning round slightly, I add: “See that guy in the leather jacket sitting next to the window with the blonde in the Manchester baseball hat? Aren’t they in that new crime series that’s on TV?”

  *

  Maya keeps smiling and fidgeting with excitement as we wait for our coats to be brought out almost four hours later. She has chosen to mute down her natural colour but agreed to add some lighter highlights. The result is young and vibrant and contrasts beautifully with her all-black outfit.

  “Thank you so much Mrs P,” she says, looking at me with sparkling eyes as she runs her fingers through her hair.

  “You look amazing,” I say.

  “You don’t look too bad yourself. Do you always go to the salon dressed up like this?”

  A flush creeps up my face and I look down at my tailored black dress with a deep V-neck. I had splurged on a new outfit for Maya’s party but didn’t realise she would notice. “Oh, I just put this on in case I don’t have time to change before going out later,” I lie. Then, I quickly change the subject. “Hope your mum approves.”

  Maya looks at me and I see a fleeting expression of panic cross her face. “I hope so. Although I’m sure she’ll find some fault with it.” Then, in a barely audible whisper, she adds: “She always does.”

  One step after the other I continue walking, as if I haven’t heard her. I would never agree with any criticism of Ellen. Looking at my watch, I realise that it’s still early and I need to kill a few hours before taking Maya back home. “Hey, do you want to come with me to the shops?” I ask her.

  “Sure.”

  “I used to hit the shops during my break but I’ve been too busy recently and I need to get som
e clothes for the children.”

  Not wanting to move my car, we hail a taxi and head to Covent Garden. We sit in silence. But instead of feeling awkward, it seems right. It feels like two friends spending an afternoon together, two people who know each other well, who are so comfortable in each other’s company that they don’t need to fill each moment with conversation. Maya keeps glancing into the car window, looking at her reflection and smiling. Joy fills my heart to have been able to make her happy.

  Once there we make a beeline for Gap Kids. “Isn’t this adorable?!” Maya exclaims, holding up a newborn sleep suit. She looks right at me with her still button-cute nose, and says: “I can’t believe that I was this small at some point.”

  I can almost hear and taste the force inside me that wants to tell her exactly how small she was, exactly what she looked like. How she used to kick the right side of my stomach whenever I ate chocolate and how she’d move around whenever I listened to jazz. The image of a just born Maya flashes in front of my eyes, the tiny peaceful face all crumpled up and her hair already so flaming red. But I cannot tell her any of this. Because I shouldn’t know.

  We walk by a makeup shop and I stop to look around, telling myself that I want to give Ellen enough time to get ready but know that I’m stalling for my own selfish reasons.

  Maya follows me around as I pick up a few items, studying the labels instead of making conversation. “Hey, why don’t we get our makeup done,” I say, finally finding an excuse to extend our time together. She hesitates for a second, but I insist. “You need to give your mum a full reveal with hair and makeup.”

  Within minutes Maya is sitting in a chair with a makeup artist fussing over her, lining her eyes with subtle shadow and perfecting her pout with a light pink lipstick.