off, before passing it to me. ‘You’ll freeze otherwise.’
I loop it over my shoulders gratefully and shiver as the warm silk lining slips over my skin. He stands there just clasping
his belongings.
‘Want me to take those?’ I offer, making an effort to enunciate.
‘Please.’
He hands them over and I slide them into his jacket pockets. A cloud of cigarette smoke drifts over to me as he lights up.
‘You still smoke then?’ I say, leaning back on the stone wall behind me. I am starting to feel very swirly and having to concentrate
hard on the conversation so as to not make an arse of myself.
‘Yeah, my skin’s going to look like shoe leather in twenty years’ time, between these and my crap genes.’
‘So how are your mum and dad?’ I ask politely, trying to think of something normal to say.
He looks at me and laughs, as if I’ve said something amusing, which confuses me a bit. ‘Same old, still at eachother’s throats. You know what they’re like. How are you feeling now?’
‘OK.’ I try to focus on the square tiles on the ground in front of us. ‘Do they like having two ready-made grandchildren?’
He hesitates. ‘Sort of. Helen’s kids are a bit feisty—’
I try to remember the picture I saw. They just looked like two ordinary little girls to me.
‘—I get a lot of “You’re not my real dad” flak. He moves over to the stone balustrade in front of us and leans on it. ‘But
they’re right, I’m not.’ He shrugs his shoulders. ‘It’s fair enough I guess.’
‘Do they still see their real dad?’
‘Not really. He’s just a sign-the-cheques parent. Things aren’t very amicable between him and Helen and she doesn’t take any
prisoners. He’s filthy rich but very pissed off that – as he sees it – he still has to pay for his ex-wife and her new husband,
along with supporting the kids. Nice bloke.’
‘Where did you meet her?’
He half-turns to face me, ‘At a party.’
Of course he did. Where else?
The wind stings my face as I look out over the beginnings of a dark golf course. Feeling a vibrating in the jacket pocket
I try to work out what it is. ‘I think your phone is ringing.’
‘Oh, thanks,’ he straightens up and flicks his fag over the edge of the wall. I reach into his pocket, but drunkenly clumsy,
the mobile slips from my fingers as I attempt to pass it to him and clatters to the ground.
‘Shit!’ I’m horrified, my hands rush to my mouth as I bend to pick it up. ‘I’m so sorry!’ The screen is displaying the name
Amanda. Who is she? I wonder.
‘It’s OK,’ he picks it up. ‘Hello? Hi – yeah, it’s me … what?’ he glances at me. ‘No. Not at all.’ He listens intently for
a moment then turns away from me, so I can’t see his face. ‘Anyway, you all right?’
He takes several steps away to the far side of the terrace.
‘Probably, yeah.’ I hear him say in a low voice. ‘Yeah – I would if I were you. I’d hate to wake you. Me too.’
My eyes start to close. I am so tired. Very suddenly, I realise
I
want to be in a bed.
He hangs up and comes back over just as I yawn again.
‘Am I keeping you up?’ He grins. ‘I should probably get going anyway.’ He holds the phone aloft. ‘That was the other half.’
Didn’t he say that his wife’s name was Helen? ‘But your phone said Amanda.’ I can’t help myself.
‘That’s right,’ he says quickly, ‘Helen phoning on Amanda’s mobile. Amanda’s her daughter.’ He looks at me easily. ‘I expect
Hel’s battery was flat, she’s hopeless at charging it up.’
‘It’s none of my business anyway,’ I say quickly, thinking, wow, kids really do get mobile phones young these days. ‘Sorry.’
‘It’s OK,’ he smiles. ‘You can say anything to me, you know that.’
There is a brief pause. He just stands there, looking at me. ‘I’m sorry too, by the way.’
‘What for?’
‘For everything Moll, being such a cunt to you.’
There is
I loop it over my shoulders gratefully and shiver as the warm silk lining slips over my skin. He stands there just clasping
his belongings.
‘Want me to take those?’ I offer, making an effort to enunciate.
‘Please.’
He hands them over and I slide them into his jacket pockets. A cloud of cigarette smoke drifts over to me as he lights up.
‘You still smoke then?’ I say, leaning back on the stone wall behind me. I am starting to feel very swirly and having to concentrate
hard on the conversation so as to not make an arse of myself.
‘Yeah, my skin’s going to look like shoe leather in twenty years’ time, between these and my crap genes.’
‘So how are your mum and dad?’ I ask politely, trying to think of something normal to say.
He looks at me and laughs, as if I’ve said something amusing, which confuses me a bit. ‘Same old, still at eachother’s throats. You know what they’re like. How are you feeling now?’
‘OK.’ I try to focus on the square tiles on the ground in front of us. ‘Do they like having two ready-made grandchildren?’
He hesitates. ‘Sort of. Helen’s kids are a bit feisty—’
I try to remember the picture I saw. They just looked like two ordinary little girls to me.
‘—I get a lot of “You’re not my real dad” flak. He moves over to the stone balustrade in front of us and leans on it. ‘But
they’re right, I’m not.’ He shrugs his shoulders. ‘It’s fair enough I guess.’
‘Do they still see their real dad?’
‘Not really. He’s just a sign-the-cheques parent. Things aren’t very amicable between him and Helen and she doesn’t take any
prisoners. He’s filthy rich but very pissed off that – as he sees it – he still has to pay for his ex-wife and her new husband,
along with supporting the kids. Nice bloke.’
‘Where did you meet her?’
He half-turns to face me, ‘At a party.’
Of course he did. Where else?
The wind stings my face as I look out over the beginnings of a dark golf course. Feeling a vibrating in the jacket pocket
I try to work out what it is. ‘I think your phone is ringing.’
‘Oh, thanks,’ he straightens up and flicks his fag over the edge of the wall. I reach into his pocket, but drunkenly clumsy,
the mobile slips from my fingers as I attempt to pass it to him and clatters to the ground.
‘Shit!’ I’m horrified, my hands rush to my mouth as I bend to pick it up. ‘I’m so sorry!’ The screen is displaying the name
Amanda. Who is she? I wonder.
‘It’s OK,’ he picks it up. ‘Hello? Hi – yeah, it’s me … what?’ he glances at me. ‘No. Not at all.’ He listens intently for
a moment then turns away from me, so I can’t see his face. ‘Anyway, you all right?’
He takes several steps away to the far side of the terrace.
‘Probably, yeah.’ I hear him say in a low voice. ‘Yeah – I would if I were you. I’d hate to wake you. Me too.’
My eyes start to close. I am so tired. Very suddenly, I realise
I
want to be in a bed.
He hangs up and comes back over just as I yawn again.
‘Am I keeping you up?’ He grins. ‘I should probably get going anyway.’ He holds the phone aloft. ‘That was the other half.’
Didn’t he say that his wife’s name was Helen? ‘But your phone said Amanda.’ I can’t help myself.
‘That’s right,’ he says quickly, ‘Helen phoning on Amanda’s mobile. Amanda’s her daughter.’ He looks at me easily. ‘I expect
Hel’s battery was flat, she’s hopeless at charging it up.’
‘It’s none of my business anyway,’ I say quickly, thinking, wow, kids really do get mobile phones young these days. ‘Sorry.’
‘It’s OK,’ he smiles. ‘You can say anything to me, you know that.’
There is a brief pause. He just stands there, looking at me. ‘I’m sorry too, by the way.’
‘What for?’
‘For everything Moll, being such a cunt to you.’
There is
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