As my beloved mum lay on her deathbed, she turned towards me and said, “Louise, I have something I need to tell you.”“Your dad wasn’t your biological father. He adopted you when you were three years old.”
I was numb with shock and grief. I looked over at Amber and she nodded at me. In that moment I realised she knew the awful truth too. It turned out our mum had confided in her a few years earlier, and although she wanted to tell me, mum begged her to remain quiet.The next few days were dreadful. My sisters organised my mum’s funeral because I couldn’t cope.
After several particularly bad rows we had to flee the house and stay with friends. But Mum always went back to him. It was sometimes a source of resentment between the two of us and I wish that she’d been strong enough to leave him. After Mum lost my dad, she grew closer to my sisters, particularly Amber, and the pair of them frequently visited. There were times I was a little envious of their bond. Living in London wasn’t always easy and throughout my 20s and 30s, there were times when I was quite depressed.
I applied for a credit card and went on a crazy spending spree, racking up thousands of pounds of debt in a few months. Buying things was the only thing that temporarily took away the pain inside of me.
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