J & P Book 3 - Please Don't Leave Me

Chapter 6

She was every bit as beautiful now as she had been when he saw her last, almost six years ago. And today, just as on that dark, wet December day, her eyes were full of tears, and her face defeated of all hope.

She just looked at him blankly for a few seconds, perhaps trying to make sure she wasn't seeing things. Finally, she spoke.

"How did you know we lived here?" she asked, calmly and without emotion.

"Just a lucky guess," Paul answered her, honestly.

"You.... obviously saw the press conference yesterday," she stated.

Paul nodded.

"Does anyone else know you're here?" she asked, still without any warmth.

He shook his head.

"You'd better come in," she said. She looked overwhelmed at the sight of him. Paul could understand why.

He followed her into the small kitchen. As if the whole experience wasn't surreal enough for Paul, entering this house was like entering a mirror image of the house that he used to call home. Instead of turning right into the kitchen it was a left, but otherwise, everything was in the same place.

Jenny filled the kettle at the sink, and switched it on. She wasn't looking directly at him. She was wearing a dark tunic top and blue jeans. She was back to the build she'd been when they'd first got together; the last time he had seen her she had been very thin.

"You've done the maths then," she said, forlornly.

"Yes," Paul said, sadly. "Jen, I.. I don't know what to say."

"The police want to talk to you. We have told them that you're his biological father. But nobody else knows. Everyone here.. Mum and Dad, Becky, Deny, even Lucia and Robbie - we told everyone that Patrick is his father."

"Oh," said Paul, sitting down at the small kitchen table, where a half drunk cup of tea was already placed. "Well, I guess you had little choice."

She turned to look at him. "I just wanted to do the right thing for our son. Give him a secure start in life. I tried to think about what you'd have wanted me to do in the situation. I thought you'd want that for him too."

"I understand," he said. He was trying not to think too much about how Jenny had felt in those dreadful days after he had left Jenton for good. That would only lead him on to how he had felt. And he didn't ever want to be reminded of that.

"So, from what we told them, they will have automatically put you on the suspect list. Estranged father, you can understand why. But I have told them you had no idea he existed. I have told them that I know you have nothing to do with this. And I will stand up for you if they grill you. It's the least I can do. You must have had the shock of your life when you saw the news last night, Paul, and I'm so, so sorry."

"You've got nothing to be sorry about," he said, softly, glancing around the room. He could see pencil crayon drawings and alphabet magnets on the fridge. There were school newsletters on the pinboard. Hanging on a chair was a tiny hat to fit a small child. None of this seemed real to him.

"I tried so hard to let you know," Jenny said, noticing him looking at the hat as she went to get the milk from the fridge to make the drink. "Did your friends tell you we looked for you in Oxford?"

"Yes, they did," confessed Paul.

"And you still didn't want to see me?"