The Secrets We Left Behind Read Online Free PDF Page B

donor.’
    ‘But . . .’
    ‘IVF. We’d still use Marcus’s sperm, but my eggs are no good, apparently, so we’d need donated eggs.’
    ‘Which is expensive,’ Marcus added, ‘ and might not work.’ He was leaning forward in his chair, head down, twisting his car keys round and round in his hands. He was the
same age as Hannah but he looked incredibly young and vulnerable at that moment.
    We all sat in silence while I digested this. Hannah appeared to have stopped crying, but every now and again she swiped at her face as another tear slid down it.
    ‘We’ll help with the money,’ I said. ‘If you want to go ahead?’
    She nodded and reached for Marcus’s hand. ‘We do,’ she said, ‘we really do.’ Tearful again but smiling, she got up and put her arms round me. ‘Thanks,
Mum.’
    Duncan had agreed, of course. He’d just been made a partner in the practice, which was on the outskirts of Sheffield and had business from farms and riding stables as well as the usual
cats, dogs and hamsters, so he’d had quite a big pay rise, and he was delighted to have something worthwhile to do with it. And when, after the first attempt failed, the second resulted in a
single pregnancy that was still perfectly healthy four months on, Hannah’s happiness was the supreme reward. Pregnancy suited her, too, especially in the later stages when she positively
glowed with health. The way she looked, the way she carried herself in those last few weeks was almost majestic.
    Looking at her now, it was hard to believe that this was the same person as that smiling, energetic young woman.
    Someone called to Duncan from the kitchen and he went off to do hosting duties. ‘Marina says,’ Hannah continued, ‘that all babies look like their fathers. She says it’s
something to do with nature protecting the young, or something.’
    ‘I read that somewhere, too. The idea is that, if a child looks like its father, the father has proof of his paternity and is more likely to stay around to protect the child, less likely
to bugger off and leave the mother to it.’
    Hannah nodded, looking thoughtful. ‘Do I look like my father?’
    This floored me for a second; she hadn’t mentioned her father for years. An image of that man in Marks & Spencer’s the other day flirted across my mind. He reminded me so much of
Scott that I found I’d been thinking about the past much more than usual. I looked at Hannah, her hair, which she’d had cut into a sleek bob before she had Toby, was dark but not
coal-black like Scott’s had been; her tall, slim build was the same though, and so were the almond-shaped eyes, cornflower-blue rather than the brown you always expected with dark hair. I
swallowed. ‘Yes, you do a bit.’ I braced myself for her to ask more but she just nodded, then rolled her eyes when she realised that Toby was crying again and went off to see to
him.

CHAPTER FIVE
    Sometimes I almost forgot Duncan wasn’t Hannah’s real dad. Partly wishful thinking, I suppose – I
wanted
him to be her father; I wanted to forget Scott
had ever existed. Hannah had started calling Duncan ‘Daddy’ when she was eight or nine. We’d been married for over a year, but we’d only just moved into our first real home
together. We were all in the sitting room, still surrounded by boxes of books and CDs and videos, eating the pizza we’d had delivered. Hannah wrinkled her nose as she looked at her slice of
pizza. ‘It’s got mushrooms on it,’ she said in disgust. ‘I hate mushrooms.’
    ‘I used to hate mushrooms as well.’ Duncan’s face was deadly serious. ‘When I was a little girl like you.’
    Hannah listened in earnest for a moment, then grinned. ‘You’re silly.’
    ‘Come on then, pipsqueak.’ He held his plate out. ‘Give us them here. I’ll swap you for the capers – you like capers, don’t you?’
    Hannah’s face fell and she shook her head before wrinkling her nose again and announcing, ‘They’re like