I was eleven when my parents took on Daniel. It wasn’t the first time they’d brought children into the house. Remember that little brother and sister who Dad kept saying I was going to have? Only later did I find out that Mum had had one miscarriage after another. So my parents turned to fostering to give me ‘company’.
Of course, it was brilliant of them to do it. But it didn’t feel like that at the time.
Some of the kids were all right. Others weren’t. There were times when I’d come back from school to find Mum playing with a three-year-old. I’d want to talk to her about my day, but she would be too busy. The social worker would be coming to do a check. Or she had to take the child to the doctor because he or she had a wheezy chest.
I wouldn’t have minded except that they weren’t real brothers and sisters. They took my parents away from me. And they made me feel different. My friends at school thought it was weird that my socially aware parents took in one kid after another, looking after them for anything from a few days to a year before they’d go away and others would replace them.
Eventually, my parents got the message. ‘You’re going to have a full-time brother,’ my father announced one morning. I remember it well. We were eating boiled eggs at the time, in our home in London. A trim, neat, semi-detached house with pebble-dash. Nothing bigger, even though my mother’s family were quite well off, because that didn’t suit my parents’ socialist principles. ‘He’s had a rough start to life,’ my mother said. ‘Poor little thing had parents who were … well, who did bad things. So sometimes he behaves badly too. He’s been in and out of foster homes, but now we’re going to adopt him. Give him a proper home.’ She gave me a comforting hug. ‘And you can help too, Lily, by being a kind big sister. You must look after him with us.’
And then Daniel arrived.
He was a year younger than me but looked older with his tall, lanky stance and a wild mass of tousled black hair. With hindsight, my parents could have thought it through more carefully. But they wanted to make a difference – to take the child no one else would. Later I found out that Daniel’s mother had been a prostitute, addicted to heroin, although he used to claim she was a trapeze artist in a circus. (He was good at embroidering facts to make them more exciting.) His father was in prison for a drug-induced double killing. (Daniel never spoke of him.)
From the minute he arrived, Daniel began to push the boundaries. No, he wouldn’t go to school. No, he wouldn’t come home when he’d promised. No, he hadn’t stolen money from Mum’s purse. Didn’t we trust him?
In fact, there was only one person whom Daniel trusted.
‘You,’ says Ross quietly. I glance out of the window on to the lawn where Tom is playing croquet with my father. He throws his mallet in the air with joy when he gets the ball through the hoop, just as Daniel used to. He stamps his foot on the ground when he misses a shot. At times, the similarities are extraordinary, even though there is no blood link.
Nature or nurture? I often wonder.
‘Yes,’ I say softly. ‘Daniel trusted me. For some reason, he latched on to me. Adored me. But I let him down.’
Ross’s hand is holding mine. Firmly. Comfortingly. Non-judgementally. I think of how Ross helped me through Ed’s betrayals. And I know that just as Daniel trusted me, so I can trust Ross. I won’t just tell him the half-version of Daniel’s death that I told Joe at the pub. Or the version I gave Ed where I left out a vital scene.
I will tell Ross the whole truth.
It was the other girls at school that started it. They all fancied my adopted brother. He was so good-looking: so tall, with that mop of hair and slightly lopsided, endearing smile. How he made everyone laugh! Daniel specialized in playing the classroom fool. He would answer back. Make fun of the teachers. Get into trouble. The more he got told off, the worse he became. He started stealing other kids’ money and then swearing blind it wasn’t him.
When Mum’s dad died, she inherited the house in Devon. It would be a fresh start for my brother, my parents said when I kicked up a fuss about leaving my old school. And it was. Daniel and I loved our new home. Such a novelty to live by the sea!
I pause for a moment and look out of the window again at the waves, lashing against the rocks on the far side of the bay.
My parents did everything they could to make Daniel happy. They got him Merlin and took on a rescue dog at the same time. They ignored bad behaviour because they believed in ‘positive praise’. They bought him the new jacket he wanted when I’d not been allowed a fluffy blue jumper I’d had my eye on. (He needed it and I didn’t, apparently.)
‘I was chosen by them,’ Daniel would announce proudly at times.
But during his blacker moments, the mask would slip. ‘I don’t want to be different, Lily,’ he’d say. ‘I want to be like you. Like everyone else.’
Daniel wasn’t the only one to be confused. Sometimes I was jealous of the attention that my parents piled on him. At other times, I was overwhelmed with love for my new brother, grateful that I finally had the company I had craved. But every now and then, something would occur which made me wonder what would have happened if they’d chosen someone else.
Of course, Daniel still got into trouble, just like he had in London. It was the same old things. Lying about homework. Lying about where he’d been. I’d cover up for him. It was what a sister did. Once a shopkeeper ran out after us, claiming that Daniel had stolen a bag of sweets.
‘He wouldn’t do that,’ I insisted.
But when we were allowed to leave, Daniel took the packet out of his sock.
I went back to the shop, explaining that there had been a misunderstanding. And Daniel swore never to do it again. ‘I promise. I promise.’
His childhood – and mine – were peppered with similar incidents.
Later, when he’d just turned fifteen, a local girl claimed he’d slept with her. It was all over school.
‘It’s not true,’ he laughed when I asked him about it. ‘Why would I want to do that? She’s a slut. Anyway, there’s only one girl I want.’
‘Who?’ I asked teasingly.
His face closed down as if someone had drawn a curtain across it. ‘Not saying.’
But then, one day, I got my first date.
I stop, my cheeks flushing.
It was one of the boys from the local school. All my friends had been asked out by now. But they were prettier than me. Slimmer.
My mother was excited for me. ‘What are you going to wear?’
Daniel was furious. He wouldn’t talk to me. And when I finally came downstairs, after spending ages getting ready, my brother informed me that the boy had called to say he couldn’t make it. Later, I found out that Daniel had stood outside the front door, waiting for him, and then lied. Told him that I didn’t want to go out after all.
Ross gently interrupts. ‘Didn’t you wonder if …’ His voice tails off.
‘No. I know it sounds silly, but I just thought it was Daniel being difficult again. Causing trouble the way he always did.’ I take a deep breath. ‘But then his arm started to “accidentally” brush mine. We had these long conversations, late at night. And one evening, when we went down to the stables to feed Merlin, he kissed me.’
I close my eyes. Even now I can remember that kiss. It was like no other. Never, ever, have I been kissed like that. The knowledge that it was wrong only added to the excitement. That’s right, I wanted him to. Deep down, I realized I’d always wanted him to do this. That I’d been jealous of that other girl he was said to have slept with. But when I finally drew away, I was overcome with shame.
‘It’s all right,’ Daniel said, his breath heavy and his voice thick. ‘We’re not related. We can do what we want.’
But it wasn’t all right. And we knew it. Before long, the kissing grew more adventurous. Even as I speak, I can still recall the illicit thrill.
Mum began to notice something. ‘I might have got this wrong,’ she said, her cheeks burning. ‘But do be careful, won’t you? Daniel might not be your blood brother. But don’t forget he’s your adopted brother.’