But he was distraught, Susie, I’d never seen him like that. He said they couldn’t bear for you to know, that it might change everything. He was terrified that you’d stop loving him.’
‘How could he think that?’
‘You say that, sweetheart, but can you be absolutely sure? How are you feeling now?’
‘Terrible, what do you think?’ She takes a large gulp of tea. It’s almost cold.
‘Exactly.’
‘But I don’t love them less, Archie, I’m just—’ she searches for the word that most closely matches her feelings, ‘—bewildered. Shattered. Adrift.’
‘And if that had happened then, just weeks before we married, what would you have felt?’
‘I don’t know! How could I know that?’
He purses his lips and sits back.
She’s irritated with him for being right. ‘So what then?’
‘Then?’
‘Did he have my birth certificate?’ Archie is looking at her as if she has said something stupid. ‘What? He must have, surely, to give to the minister.’
‘Darling, what he gave the minister was an abbreviated certificate.’
Susie feels the blood draining from her face. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘When they adopted you, sweetheart, they were able to apply for a new certificate, which showed the name they gave you, but not the full details of your birth.’
She says, dazed, ‘It wasn’t my birth certificate?’
‘No.’
‘So that’s ... I’m not good at this, Archie, it’s not something I’ve ever had to deal with. Did they know who I was? I mean, what did they know about my real parents?’
He shrugs. ‘Your original birth certificate will be lodged somewhere, I imagine. I’m not sure how you go about getting it.’
‘My passport—’
‘I applied for it, same time as I got mine – remember? The abbreviated certificate was fine for that too. Not sure if it would be these days, but back then, it was perfectly acceptable.’
‘So you did,’ Susie says, her voice limp. ‘I never wondered why.’
Archie manages everything – her tax returns, all the household paperwork, the boring nitty-gritty details of life that she finds too tedious and that he takes in his stride. It occurs to Susie that somewhere in the glittering trail she leaves in her wake is a well-oiled mechanism that makes things happen. She should feel grateful, but right now all she can feel is suspicious. He hid this from her. What else might he be hiding? What other little lies – or huge deceits – has he concealed?
Robert MacPherson. Bobby. Her father. Not her father. The thought disorientates her so that she has no idea which way is up. She remembers Robert holding his arm out for her to hook hers through. The creamy lace of her wedding dress is like gossamer on the pale pink of her flesh, tiny pearls glisten in the sunlight through the net curtains. It’s her wedding day and her father is so proud of his girl.
Not his girl. I was never his girl.
‘Who else knew?’
‘I’m not sure.’
‘The neighbours?’
‘One or two, maybe. They must have known. I assume she came back – your mother – I assume she brought you home one day ...’
‘Dear God! Brought me home. Like a mail order baby. Early delivery for a small premium. We make every effort to match your specified colour but cannot guarantee size’
‘Try to not be bitter, Susie.’
‘Bitter? My whole reality has been turned upside down. Nothing in my life is what I believed it to be.’
Archie says nothing, probably wisely. He allows her to work through her feelings, which she does, until she feels calm enough to speak again.
‘So Elsie Proudfoot knew.’
‘I guess she must have done. Probably your mother made her friends promise not to say anything. I can only assume she thought you’d have been told at some point.’
‘I can’t believe they never did tell me, not right until they died. That they didn’t even leave me a letter.’
‘They loved you, Susie. They were just scared, that’s all. They were worried that
‘How could he think that?’
‘You say that, sweetheart, but can you be absolutely sure? How are you feeling now?’
‘Terrible, what do you think?’ She takes a large gulp of tea. It’s almost cold.
‘Exactly.’
‘But I don’t love them less, Archie, I’m just—’ she searches for the word that most closely matches her feelings, ‘—bewildered. Shattered. Adrift.’
‘And if that had happened then, just weeks before we married, what would you have felt?’
‘I don’t know! How could I know that?’
He purses his lips and sits back.
She’s irritated with him for being right. ‘So what then?’
‘Then?’
‘Did he have my birth certificate?’ Archie is looking at her as if she has said something stupid. ‘What? He must have, surely, to give to the minister.’
‘Darling, what he gave the minister was an abbreviated certificate.’
Susie feels the blood draining from her face. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘When they adopted you, sweetheart, they were able to apply for a new certificate, which showed the name they gave you, but not the full details of your birth.’
She says, dazed, ‘It wasn’t my birth certificate?’
‘No.’
‘So that’s ... I’m not good at this, Archie, it’s not something I’ve ever had to deal with. Did they know who I was? I mean, what did they know about my real parents?’
He shrugs. ‘Your original birth certificate will be lodged somewhere, I imagine. I’m not sure how you go about getting it.’
‘My passport—’
‘I applied for it, same time as I got mine – remember? The abbreviated certificate was fine for that too. Not sure if it would be these days, but back then, it was perfectly acceptable.’
‘So you did,’ Susie says, her voice limp. ‘I never wondered why.’
Archie manages everything – her tax returns, all the household paperwork, the boring nitty-gritty details of life that she finds too tedious and that he takes in his stride. It occurs to Susie that somewhere in the glittering trail she leaves in her wake is a well-oiled mechanism that makes things happen. She should feel grateful, but right now all she can feel is suspicious. He hid this from her. What else might he be hiding? What other little lies – or huge deceits – has he concealed?
Robert MacPherson. Bobby. Her father. Not her father. The thought disorientates her so that she has no idea which way is up. She remembers Robert holding his arm out for her to hook hers through. The creamy lace of her wedding dress is like gossamer on the pale pink of her flesh, tiny pearls glisten in the sunlight through the net curtains. It’s her wedding day and her father is so proud of his girl.
Not his girl. I was never his girl.
‘Who else knew?’
‘I’m not sure.’
‘The neighbours?’
‘One or two, maybe. They must have known. I assume she came back – your mother – I assume she brought you home one day ...’
‘Dear God! Brought me home. Like a mail order baby. Early delivery for a small premium. We make every effort to match your specified colour but cannot guarantee size’
‘Try to not be bitter, Susie.’
‘Bitter? My whole reality has been turned upside down. Nothing in my life is what I believed it to be.’
Archie says nothing, probably wisely. He allows her to work through her feelings, which she does, until she feels calm enough to speak again.
‘So Elsie Proudfoot knew.’
‘I guess she must have done. Probably your mother made her friends promise not to say anything. I can only assume she thought you’d have been told at some point.’
‘I can’t believe they never did tell me, not right until they died. That they didn’t even leave me a letter.’
‘They loved you, Susie. They were just scared, that’s all. They were worried that
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