Officer Wilkes seemed uncertain. ‘I would imagine that might be the case but only because the father’s name is erroneous. Essentially, Mr Perrin encouraged falsification of the certificate. I’m not sure of the legal repercussions. However, I believe that any surname may be chosen when registering a new child, including a surname that belongs to neither parent. I suggest you obtain some legal advice: a solicitor or the Citizens Advice Bureau.’
Sophie felt numb. How could he have done this to her? It was bad enough that her mother had died never knowing her granddaughter, but worse than that she had died believing her daughter was living with someone who didn’t exist. And that address in Exeter? He’d never mentioned anything about… ‘Will you check that address? In Exeter?’
‘As I said, Ms Denham, our involvement will depend upon any perceived possibility of fraud. Mr Perrin will not be the first person to have used a dual identity for non-fraudulent reasons. We’ll check with the Passport Office. You said your partner spends long periods abroad. That might be significant. In the meantime, you can contact me on this direct line.’ He handed her a business card.
The two officers left. Sophie stood back from the window and watched them drive away before wandering over to Laura’s playpen, lowering herself down onto the floor and allowing herself the tears that were way overdue. Her sobbing waxed and waned as she fought to hold on to a past that was collapsing around her…
Five Years Earlier
Sophie had been surreptitiously watching him for the best part of an hour. All he’d said when he carried in his heap of boxes, and apologised for his intrusion, was that he’d try not to disturb her; that he just needed to make a few adjustments to the system; that he might have to interrupt internet access briefly but he’d give her good warning. He didn’t look like a computer geek. More like an executive on his day off: smart casual, expensive watch, perfectly-styled dark hair. No wedding ring. Sophie felt needy. She looked back at the screen in front of her. Just one sentence and she’d changed that more times than it had words. She checked her phone – five past eleven – got to her feet, smoothed her skirt and prepared to interrupt. He glanced up as she approached.
‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘am I disturbing you?’
Absolutely. ‘No, not at all. I was just wondering if you’d like a coffee. I’m just off to the machine. I could bring you one. If you like.’
‘I, er… actually, I’m a bit of a coffee wimp. I…’
Such amazing, brown eyes. ‘It doesn’t really taste much like coffee. And there’s hot water so you can dilute the horror of it. I could bring you some.’
Eyebrows to die for. ‘Or you could nip down with me. Then you’ll know. I’m Sophie, by the way.’
‘Great! I’m Jonah. I’ll just pause this…’ He smiled. ‘Then I’m all yours.’
* * *
Sophie had never seen anyone add sugar to a cup of hot water and then drink it but, ten minutes into their acquaintance, this Jonah could do nothing wrong.
‘So, how long is this going to take you… with the computers?’
‘I should be finished by the end of the day. Maybe a trip back in a week or so, to make sure it’s all running smoothly.’
‘Oh!’ Panic. Action required.
‘Do you have to come far?’ Did that sound too obvious?
He put his head to one side. ‘Interesting question. I’ve just sold my flat so I’m a bit itinerant at the moment. Moving between motels.’ He sighed. ‘Possessions in storage. I’m staying at the Premier Inn tonight, sorting out a few local contracts for the rest of the week.’ He grinned. ‘Take my word for it, hotel life is a lot cheaper than paying a mortgage… and having to replace gutters and the like.’ He took her empty cup and tossed it with his own into the recycling bin. ‘We’d better be getting back. Before somebody notices we’re enjoying ourselves.’
Sophie gave a little laugh, stepped through the door he was holding open for her and heard herself say, ‘If you like, I could show you around town this evening. Show you the best places to eat. If you haven’t got anything better to do.’
* * *
Sophie (mostly) wasn’t in the habit of sleeping with a guy on a first date. But this, well, it was different. She’d never felt so at ease with a new person. She watched him, still sleeping. It wasn’t yet dawn but he seemed to be already glowing with a new day. She pushed back the duvet and climbed out of bed slowly so as not to disturb him, pulled on her dressing gown and crept through to the kitchen. She put the kettle on, checked the sugar canister, selected the two matching cups and put them ready, felt his arms close around her waist.
‘I tried not to wake you.’
‘Why? Are you bored with me already?’
‘No, I’m not. Where have you got to be today?’
‘Wisley. Late morning.’
‘Oh. How late… morning?’
‘Late enough. Why don’t you call in and say you woke up with a migraine?’
‘OK.’
6
Sophie was jolted from her melancholy by a plastic duck that hit her squarely on the back of her head. Laura was standing a few inches away, staring through the bars at her, wearing that same look of infant apprehension she had worn when she first heard the coffee grinder. Parental responsibility triumphed.
‘Laura, shall we go feed the ducks?’
Laura’s apprehension became uncomplicated frowning.
‘We like feeding the ducks, don’t we?’ And, besides, anything would be better than sitting in a house full of lies.
Sophie spent the next ten minutes preparing to leave and avoiding Jonah’s two mobile phones, but the temptation proved too great. So, with Laura secured in her pram, she fetched them from the lounge and set them alongside one another on the hall table: Jonah’s familiar Samsung and the sleek, unfamiliar iPhone. She turned on the Samsung – 91% charge – and recalled Jonah squashing the charger into his case. She didn’t remember seeing it lying in the road so most likely it had been loaded back into the suitcase with his other belongings. She scrolled down the list of calls but most of them were to or from her. She picked up the iPhone, tried to turn it on and found it was password protected. She poked in various combinations of numbers but after several failures she gave up. She couldn’t remember how many tries you have before you become locked out. Frustrated she placed it beside the Samsung, pulled open the front door and positioned herself for the nightmare of manoeuvring the pram backwards down the steps.
‘Can I help you with that?’
Sophie half-turned. Sam Barnes was standing on the pavement, clutching a large bunch of pink roses. She was shocked at how delighted she was to see him.
‘I thought these might cheer you up,’ he said. ‘It’s also my attempt to thank you for your kindness yesterday. How’s the ankle?’ He paused. ‘I hope your… I hope Jonah is OK.’
Sophie couldn’t quite manage to speak. She was not at all sure she could remember how to breathe either. She thought to put the brake on the pram. Silence hung in the air. Awkwardly. Sam Barnes took a step forward. He looked different. As if he hadn’t just been thrown over the handlebars of his bicycle. He was wearing that same grey suit, still crumpled, but he’d combed his hair. His brow was no longer swollen but his eye was black and yellow and numerous shades between.