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“What are you doing here?”
“Your dad… Steve invited me,” she replies timidly. “We met at the pub last night and he asked me round. I-I didn’t know he lived with anyone. If I did, I wouldn’t have come.”
In a rage, I storm to my father’s room and shake him awake. “Dad, there’s a strange girl in the living room. Can you explain?”
“What girl?” he mumbles, burying his face in the pillow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes you do. You’ve brought a strange girl back to the house and I want answers—now!”
“You must be hallucinating. There isn’t any girl…” He breaks off, then a broad grin spreads across his face and I fight the urge to slap him. “Oh yeah, now I remember. Ididmeet a girl at the pub last night. Shelley or Sheba was her name.”
“Sheila, her name is Sheila!” I snap. “Or were you so off your face you don’t even remember the name of who you picked up? I’m telling you, you’ve got some serious explaining to do. For Christ’s sake, Dad, she’s old enough to be your grand-daughter! And what’s this about a trip to the pub? You were in bed the last time I saw you.”
“I know, but I decided to go back out again. I was buzzing so much I just couldn’t sleep. I wanted a bit of fun, so I went to the Brown Hog for a couple of pints. And I’m glad I did. It was truly a great night.”
My mouth gapes. I’m totally speechless. There’s so much I want to say to him; so much I want to get off my chest, but now is not the time. I’m already late for work so the dressing down will have to wait till I get back.
I jab my finger at him. “Listen,” I hiss. “I don’t know what you’re playing at but I’ll tell you one thing: that girl had better be gone by the time I get back. If she isn’t, then I’m packing my things and I’m out of here. It’s her or me, okay?”
“Oh come on, Carly, you’re making too big a deal out of this. Really, it’s not as bad as all that. We didn’t even have sex. We only—”
I hold up my hands. “For God’s sake, spare me the details. I don’t want to know. Just make sure she’s gone when I get back, okay?”
“Okay. I’m sorry.”
“Apology not accepted. Jesus, Dad, don’t you think I already have enough on my plate? What the hell were you thinking?” I glance at my watch and stamp out into the hall. As I pass the living room, I see Sheila gathering up her things, ready to go. When she see me, she flashes a sheepish smile. I scowl at her. Now is not the time for pleasantries.
I step out the front door into a Winter Wonderland. It’s snowed overnight and all of the houses are covered in shimmery blankets of white. Everything is silent and serene and despite my anger, I start to get a Christmassy feeling. I stall for a moment, patting down my pockets to check that I haven’t forgotten anything. Then I lock up and march down Lavender Hill in the direction of the train station.
With shaky fingers, I light a cigarette and phone Nick for some moral support. He answers after just one ring, and I get the distinct impression he was expecting this call.
“So what’s Daddy done now?”
“What are you? Psychic?”
“Mmm, I might be,” he teases. “So, tell me, what did he do?”
I raise my eyes heavenward. “Where do I start?” Bitterly, I relay everything that happened with Sheila. Nick punctuates every one of my sentences with a gleeful chuckle, and clearly finds the whole thing hilarious.
“This isn’t funny, Nick,” I moan. “His behaviour is really starting to frighten me. It feels like I’m living with a child who constantly has to be watched. And—oh God, did I tell you about the arm wrestling fiasco with Michael yesterday?”
“Arm wrestling?” Nick explodes with laughter. “This gets better and better.”
I still don’t see the humour. “For crying out loud, it’s not funny. He almost broke the poor guy’s arm. Seriously, he’s a liability.”
“Oh go easy on him,” Nick soothes. “Remember, this is just a phase. It won’t last forever, I promise you. He’ll be his old self by the end of the day and then we’ll both look back on this and laugh.”
“Why do I not believe you?”
“Poor baby. Look, what can I do to cheer you up? Shall I treat you to lunch today?”
My heart melts and I smile despite myself. “I’d never say know to a free meal.”
“What time’s your lunch break?”
“One-thirty.”
“Fine. I’ll meet you outside your office at half one and we’ll take it from there. Hopefully I can find a way to put a smile back on your face.”
