‘Fuck Social Services and fuck you.’ Mum’s voice was slurred. Spiteful. ‘She’s my daughter and I’ll bring her up how I fucking well like, you interfering old bitch.’
I shiver, one hand on a fussy walnut side table, and catch my breath. The voices in the kitchen are rising. I cock my head, an automatic reflex for someone who spent their childhood listening at closed doors while the adults on the other side decided her fate.
It’s Felix and Barney. Barney is slurring too, his words jammed so hard together it takes me a moment to tune in to what he’s saying.
‘You promised we’d have a chance to talk out here, Felix. It’s the only reason I agreed to come!’
‘And we will, old boy. We will. But not on your first night, eh?’
‘Then when?’
‘Tomorrow. We’ll talk tomorrow, I promise. In the meantime, I think we could all do with another drink, don’t you? I have some eighteen-year-old Glenmorangie from a grateful client somewhere.’ Felix’s voice is placatory, but Barney hasn’t finished yet.
‘Grateful client? Don’t make me laugh. You’re killing me, Felix. D’you hear me? You’re killing me.’
‘Now, now, there’s no need to get hysterical. The girls will be wondering where we are, so get that down your neck, calm yourself down and we’ll talk in the morning.’
A chink of glass is followed by the sound of the tap running. I clear my throat and amble into the kitchen, pretending I haven’t heard a word while wondering what secrets they are hiding.
9
AMBER
To my surprise, Willow has joined Dominic, Simone and Victoria on the terrace, her pale face animated as she tells Dom about her decision to take a gap year after her A-levels to volunteer in the Borneo rainforest.
‘I’ll be based at a sanctuary where they rehabilitate orangutans. Look.’ She taps away at her phone and hands it to Dom.
‘How are you getting there?’ Simone asks innocently.
‘Well, I’m flying, obviously.’
‘But what about the planet? I thought you said a single long-haul flight was as bad for the ozone as a year’s worth of driving?’
Willow tuts. ‘The difference, stepmother dearest, is that boomers like you are abusing air travel for your own short-term gratification, whereas I’ll be supporting the long-term survival of one of the planet’s most iconic species that’s currently at risk of extinction.’
‘You tell her, petal,’ Felix says, settling a tray with six whisky glasses and a decanter on the low table between the two rattan sofas. Barney swipes a glass and drains it with a grimace, before holding it out for a refill.
Victoria frowns. ‘I think you’ve had enough, don’t you?’
‘Give the poor man a break. He’s on holiday.’ Felix splashes a generous measure into Barney’s glass.
‘You don’t have to lie awake next to him while he’s snoring his head off, pissed as a fart,’ Victoria snaps. She gives her husband a filthy look but he’s too busy staring moodily into his glass to notice.
Dom claps his hands together, keen to halt the bickering before it escalates into a full-blown domestic. ‘Anyone for a game of poker, for old times’ sake?’
Simone sits up, instantly energised. ‘You bet.’
‘I’m in,’ Felix says, his elbows on his knees.
‘Me too.’ Barney fumbles in his back pocket for his wallet and slaps it on the table. Felix’s eyes light up.
‘Playing for cash, are we?’
‘Absolutely not,’ Victoria says firmly. ‘We’ll play with matches, like we did at uni.’
‘Matches?’ Felix scoffs. ‘Where’s the fun in that?’
Victoria is adamant. ‘Matches or nothing.’
