was so proud of her.
‘It really is,’ said Beth. ‘Oh, and you’ll never guess who the new art director is.’
‘Who?’
‘Do you remember me telling you about a guy called Jack Stevens?’
‘The guy from college?’ Daniel had faint memories of Beth mentioning a friend from art school called Jack years ago. Apparently he had always encouraged her when they were students, which had given her the confidence to do what she was doing now. For some reason they’d drifted apart after college; she was always a bit vague as to why.
‘The very same,’ said Beth. ‘Small world, huh?’
‘Isn’t it?’ Daniel said. ‘How was he?’
‘Just the same,’ said Beth. She seemed a bit preoccupied. ‘At least I know he’s on my side.’
‘Well that’s something,’ said Daniel. He sighed. ‘I’d love to stay and chat, but I’ve got paperwork to catch up on. How long till supper?’
‘You have half an hour,’ said Beth.
Daniel went upstairs and poked his head round Megan’s door.
She was sitting in her bed, wrapped up in a blanket, transfixed to a screen.
‘Good day?’ he asked.
‘It was OK,’ said Megan, barely looking up.
‘I hope that’s homework you’re doing,’ said Daniel.
Megan blushed. ‘Not exactly. I’m just watching something on YouTube.’
‘Well, look at that after you’ve done your homework,’ said Daniel. ‘You know, you’ve got—’
‘I’ve got GSCEs next year and need to knuckle down,’ said Megan rolling her eyes. ‘I know, Dad, and I am working.’
‘Good,’ said Daniel, smiling. Megan always had an answer for everything, but at least she still talked to him.
He paused outside Sam’s room, thinking about Jason Leigh. Maybe Sam needed a similar kick up the arse.
Sam was also hunched over a computer, sitting at his desk with his back to Daniel.
‘How’s it going?’ said Daniel, trying to effect casual. He never quite knew what kind of response he would get from his son.
‘OK,’ said Sam.
‘What about your extra lessons? How were they today?’ Sam had done spectacularly badly in his mocks and been pulled in for extra help in economics and physics.
‘Didn’t go,’ said Sam.
‘Sam!’ Daniel was exasperated. ‘We’ve talked about this. If you don’t start working soon, it will be too late.’
Sam shrugged.
‘It’s my life, Dad. And I’m nearly eighteen, so just butt out.’
Daniel could feel a knot of tension building inside of him. Sam was frequently disrespectful, but Daniel didn’t like to come down too hard for fear of sounding like his own dad, Reggie. Daniel had spent a lot of his early childhood being subjected to vicious tongue-lashings when his dad had come home drunk, and had always sworn he would be a different kind of father. He could still remember the occasion when he’d failed badly in a spelling text and Reggie had shouted at him for being stupid. Daniel had tried so hard not to be negative to his own children, and it was incredibly frustrating to feel it all being kicked back in his face.
‘You might be nearly eighteen, but you’re still living under my roof,’ he said, trying to control his voice.
‘And?’ Sam swivelled around so that he was facing Daniel.
‘You could at least respect me and your mum,’ said Daniel, feeling his frustration brimming over into anger at his son’s disinterested expression.
Sam said nothing and turned back to his screen. Daniel took a deep breath. He had a sudden image of being six years old and hiding under his bed because Reggie had erupted when Daniel had broken a cup. However angry Daniel was with Sam, he wouldn’t let it control him. He refused to.
So instead, he went into his study to fire up his computer, silently fuming. What had gone wrong with his relationship with Sam? He’d always tried to be open and honest with both his children, but over the last year Sam had closed down on him.
He opened his emails with a sigh, and then saw a name in his inbox that made him freeze.
Reggie King. Dad?
It had been a couple of years since Reggie had last been in contact, which suited Daniel just fine. His stomach turned in knots. Life was always much easier if he didn’t think about Reggie. He read the email with a growing sense of dread.
Hi son, Long time no see, read the email. I’m going to be back in the UK in February. Maybe we could hook up for a drink? Reggie
Daniel stared at the message, his thoughts racing. Maybe we could hook up after five years of very sporadic communication? Just like that? What the hell did he want?
Lou
I drive up to Beth’s house, feeling the smidgeon of envy I can never quite repress when I turn into the drive of her four-bedroomed mock-Georgian home. Beth has a lovely house, a caring husband, gorgeous children. I know she’s worked hard for them, and deserves all those things, but sometimes it’s hard to get away from the fact that she has everything I ever wanted. Barring perhaps the husband. A wife on the other hand …
It feels as though life has always come easily to Beth and never to me. I flunked out at school, didn’t make it to uni. When we were kids she was always the A-grade student, the pretty one, the one with the boyfriends. I was left in her shadow. She never flaunts it in my face, but being next to my high-achieving big sister always makes me feel a failure; I hate it. And I hate myself for letting it get to me.
‘Lou, come in.’ Beth gives me a hug, and instantly I feel like a bitch. She is always unfailingly kind; it’s not her fault my life is such a disaster zone.
She’s still in her dressing gown and PJs, her hair done in a messy bun, with curls straggling down her shoulders. She manages to look fabulous though. Beth is one of those annoying people who could look good wearing a paper bag. She seems a bit distracted and has smudges of paint on her hands. My heart sinks. If Beth’s in full creative mode, bang goes my chance of having a sensible chat.
‘Sorry, am I disturbing you?’ I say. ‘Maybe I should call back another time.’
‘No, no, it’s great to see you,’ says Beth. ‘It’s
