Page 33 of The Stolen Child

Zach turned back to Lily and said, ‘That’s my other mother.’

Lily felt Michael’s hand move towards hers and clasp it between his own. Her body trembled as Zach’s words sunk in.

‘Before you got here, we looked you up on Instagram,’ Michael said evenly.

‘I would assume nothing less,’ Zach replied.

‘I saw your family – your parents, your sisters, your work colleagues. There is a lot of information on social media, available within a few quick clicks of a mouse.’

Zach locked eyes with Michael. ‘You think I looked up Lily’s socials and am here for . . . for what exactly?’

‘That’s what I’d like to understand,’ Michael said. ‘What do you want from my wife?’

‘Nothing. Everything. I don’t know.’ Zach placed his face in his hands and took a deep breath.

Lily’s heart constricted, and she felt sympathy wash over her. He’d spoken about his gut and, right now, her gut told her that this man truly believed he was her brother. But that didn’t mean he was right.

‘I have a good family and a good life. I don’t need money; I have a job that pays me more than I could ever spend. My parents are independently wealthy too. So, if you think I’m here for some kind of a shakedown, please know that is not what this is about.’

Michael’s fingers drummed on the table in front of him. ‘What do you remember about your early childhood?’

‘Bits and pieces. I remember Spain, the sunshine, the hills, the people. We lived there for two years until Mom met and married my stepdad. However, most of my early memories are those from Westport in America.’

Spain. A trickle of sweat ran down Lily’s back. She looked at Michael and saw that this had thrown him too.

‘Where in Spain?’ Michael asked.

‘Ronda.’

Lily had never heard of it and raised an eyebrow in query.

‘It’s one of the most beautiful places in Andalusia. It sits atop the edge of a mountain. And locals say it’s so high that it rains upwards. I spent a month there a few years ago, and birds flew beneath my feet as I leaned out over the El Tajo gorge.’

‘Is your mother Spanish?’ Lily asked, confused, because she was sure he’d said she was English.

A shake of his head. ‘She moved to Spain from London when I was a baby.’

‘Is your biological father English too?’ Lily continued her probing.

‘Yes.’

‘But you never met him.’ Lily re-stated.

‘No, I didn’t.’

‘Why?’ Michael asked.

‘He was abusive to my mother. That’s why we ended up in rural Spain. We were hiding from him.’

Hiding. The word hung in the air between them all. Lily couldn’t help but wonder what else Zach’s mother might be hiding. She felt as if she was looking at a giant, unmade jigsaw puzzle with half the pieces missing.

‘And he’s dead now,’ Lily stated.

‘Yes. 2015.’

‘Cancer,’ Lily said, remembering Zach telling her.

‘Yep.’