Dad kept me hidden…

But it took me nearly 40 years to find them!

2018-05-17 - By Lorraine Carlini, 43, from Reading

There was a knock at the front door and I ran to open it.

Standing in the doorway was a tall, slim man with greying hair.

It was my dad Carlos – and I hadn’t seen him in almost 12 months.

Aged 8, I lived alone with my mum – and Dad only visited once a year.

‘He lives in Italy,’ Mum always told me. ‘That’s why we don’t see him often.’ I just accepted it. My father was a lot older than my mother.

He was always smartly dressed and would often bring me a bar of chocolate.

‘Is this from Italy, Uncle?’ I’d ask him, amazed.

Yes, that’s right…

Uncle.

Because he didn’t allow me to call him Dad.

One time, he was reading g a newspaper and I ran over to him and asked him outright.

‘Are you my dad?’ I quizzed him.

‘No,’ he replied, before going back to reading the paper.

But, somehow, I knew that he was lying...i just didn’t know why.

I thought it was strange, but I was just a kid. I did as I was told.

Then, when I was 12, the visits suddenly stopped.

Mum told me he was a businessman and it was because he was busy travelling.

It wasn’t as if I was used to him being around, anyway.

Years passed. I grew up and had three kids of my own, now aged 7, 18 and 21.

It made me think about my family.

And I often wondered about my mysterious dad and if he had other children.

Maybe I’ve got brothers and sisters, I thought.

But I knew that trying to trace my family in Italy would be impossible.

I didn’t speak the language, for starters.

Then, one afternoon in late 2013, I was pottering around at home with the kids when a friend of mine phoned.

‘My friend has the same surname as you,’ she said to me. ‘You could be related!’ My last name, Carlini, was pretty unusual.

I’d never met anyone else with the same surname as me before.

Surely it was just a coincidence and we weren’t actually related?

‘Here, you can talk to her yourself,’ my mate said, handing over the phone.

And, all of a sudden, an unfamiliar voice came on the line. ‘Hi, I’m Tracey,’ she said. We started chatting, tried to make some family connections.

I told her Dad’s name and described what he looked like.

‘That’s my grandad!’ T Tracey squealed.

She explained that her mum Gay, then 69, was my dad’s oldest child. My half-sister. Which made Tracey, then 49, my niece.

‘I can’t believe it!’ I gasped, totally amazed.

Tracey was just as surprised to learn about me.

‘Grandad never told us,’ she said, as baffled as I was.

I wondered why I’d been kept a secret.

But then Tracey told me something that really knocked me for six…

‘I’m sorry, but he passed away in 1994,’ she explained. I’d had no idea. My heart filled with sadness. I had so many questions for my father, and now they’d never be answered.

But, as Tracey and I chatted, I realised something else... I had a whole new family! It turned out Dad had three other children – Gay, Phillip, 78, and Nigel, 72.

‘They’ll all be so excited to meet you,’ Tracey said.

When I got off the phone, my heart was beating so hard.

All these years, I had siblings I never knew about!

And, to my utter a amazement, they’d b been living just a few miles d down the road from me.

We were actually i in the same town!

That very same day, T Tracey came to meet me.

‘Hello, Auntie!’ she laughed, w when I opened the door.

Immediately, I noticed the

I called my father Uncle – he didn’t allow me to call him Dad

similarities between us.

Same dark, Italian features, same shape of nose. ‘This is surreal!’ I laughed. Through Tracey, I began piecing together the truth about my dad.

It turned out he’d been 64 when I was born.

And he was also married – meaning i th that t Mum was his mistress!

‘He never lived in Italy like he told you,’ Tracey admitted. ‘He lived in Hook.’ Not far from me and Mum… I couldn’t believe what I was hearing – Dad had lied to us.

By now, Mum was 80, so I didn’t want to upset her b by quizzing her a about Dad. But I was sure that sh she hadn’t known the t truth. It would’ve c crushed h her to know th that he had a double life. While T Tracey sat h having a cup o of tea, she p phoned her m mum G Gay – my h half-sister! ‘She wants to speak to y you,’ Tracey smiled. With trembling h hands, I took the phone from Tracey. I didn’t know how Gay would react to this bombshell. Would she be angry her dad had a baby with his mistress? Would she reject me? But I needn’t have had any worries about her. ‘I can’t wait to meet you,’ Gay said happily.

Just a day or so on, Tracey took me to Gay’s house.

When we saw each other, we hugged for ages.

‘I’ve always wanted a big sister,’ I told her.

‘You look just like our dad,’ she said.

In the next few weeks, I visited my half-brothers and was welcomed with open arms by them, too.

Then, last year, Gay had a get-together at her place – for the whole family.

I was bursting with joy, having everyone all around me in one room.

‘We all have the same nose!’ I laughed, giving everyone a hug.

I also got to meet all of their kids and grandchildren.

As I looked around at the sea of faces, I couldn’t believe all these people were my family.

Now we’re making up for lost time.

It saddens me that I missed out on being part of a big family for so long.