Page 146 of So, I Met This Guy . . .

The man who she thought had broken her. Who had caused her to lie in bed, unable to sleep, a heaviness in her chest and fear in her belly so acute that sometimes she feared she would never wake up – worse still, often in those darkest moments she wanted never to wake up. And who had no idea that one day his daughter would come knocking on the caravan door looking for him and bring her back to life.

Reminded of Flick, Maggie caught herself. She didn’t want to say anything that might hurt her. Whatever her feelings, he was her father and she’d gone through enough.

For so long she’d had all these questions. All this rage. How could you do it? How could you pretend to love someone and take all their money and tell all those lies? How could you be so cruel and heartless? What did she want? Revenge? To hurt him as much as he’d hurt her? To look him in the eye and demand answers to her questions. To tell him what she thought of him. That he hadn’t broken her. That she’d loved him. That she’d hated him. But now she only pitied him.

He’d lost a daughter. He’d missed out on a lifetime of knowing the warm, funny, spirited, brave and beautiful human that was Flick. Compared to that, she hadn’t lost anything.

She looked at Him and thought all of those things but all she said is, ‘You’re the loser, not me.’

‘OK, I think I’ve been patient enough.’

Putting down his drink, he heaved a sigh and glanced at his watch, as if this whole scenario was completely tedious.

‘We didn’t work out, we made a few bad investments – but really, Maggie?’ He threw her such a look of contempt it was hard to imagine he’d ever looked at her in any other way. ‘I think you should let this go; you’re acting crazy.’

‘Depends how you define crazy.’

Having been standing there, not saying a word, Flick’s voice now broke into the conversation.

‘You know that’s such an overused sexist trope. Men always call women crazy when they can’t handle the truth.’

Everyone turned to look at Flick. With her dark hair pinned up, trademark black eyeliner and figure-hugging satin dress, Maggie thought she’d never looked more striking or more confident. But then Maggie wasn’t the only one who had changed since that day they met at the caravan.

‘But then you’ve done it before, haven’t you? Lied to someone. Broken someone’s heart. Done a runner with someone’s life savings.’

‘I’m sorry. And who are you?’

It was the way he sneered. The little shrug of his shoulders that intimated to her that she was of no consequence.

‘Sally Lomax was only twenty years old when she met you. She was working behind a bar at a hotel, saving up for college – she had her whole life ahead of her. You were a guest at the hotel. You told her you loved her, that you were going to get married, build a life together, and she believed you.’

In her mind Flick could see her mum’s old leather diary, the swirly almost-childish handwriting; could feel the hope in the love heart doodles in the margin.

‘When she told you she was having a baby, you did a runner and took all her money. She kept it in a little tin with a sticker that said My Future. You stole her future. You left her pregnant and broke.’

It was more than a quarter of a century ago. In a small, grey, northern, working-class town. Far away from a fancy penthouse suite on a luxury cruise ship in the middle of the Mediterranean. In the years that had passed had he ever thought about her mother or the baby? Wondered how they were? Or had he simply moved on and buried it in the past?

But that’s the thing about the past, you never know when it’s going to come back and haunt you.

‘Sally Lomax was my mum.’

For a moment there was silence as he absorbed what she was saying.

‘The barmaid at the hotel? But that was years ago. What? You’re telling me you’re my daughter? That I’m your father?’

His tone was dismissive. As if he didn’t even want to remember or acknowledge her. And in that moment, something within Flick finally broke. Or actually, she realized later, it finally healed.

‘No, you don’t have a daughter.’ She shook her head. ‘You’re not my real dad, his name is Colin. He’s the man who married my mum and raised me. You’re just the pathetic excuse for a man who got my mum pregnant and dumped her.’

‘OK, well, I think the show’s over.’

He was never one to sit and be insulted. Even when it was the truth.

‘Birdy, darling, let’s call security.’ Uncrossing his legs, he put down his drink and made to stand up but Birdy beat him to it.

‘Not so fast, Louis,’ she said, rising from the seat where she’d been witnessing this whole thing unfold. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, sweetie. Shouldn’t that be Theo?’

And there it was. The game was finally up. Time to hold up your hands. Admit to your crimes and misdeeds. Accept your punishment.