4. Trouble in Paradise
4 TROUBLE IN PARADISE
Daphne
“Daphne, your hair! It’s too wild!” Mum called across our hotel suite’s living room.
I ignored her.
“Daphne, I am speaking to you.”
I spun, tossing my hair over my shoulder. My mother’s stick-straight, impossibly shiny chestnut locks were perfect. She loathed my wavy blonde strands. Sea air only made my hair more defiant.
I crossed my arms. “My hair is fine . I am not supposed to over style it. I was told it must be somewhat dirty tomorrow so the stylists can put it up.”
Mum pulled a face. “That will not do. Put it up. You are so pretty when you are composed.”
“Uh-huh.”
“You are a great beauty, Daphne. I wish you would see that,” Mum softened.
Wanting out, I gave up arguing. I needed to breathe, and the longer I stayed, the more the walls closed in. I strode back to the double room I shared with my three sisters. I had my own room when this weekend began, but it was handed off to my older brother like a great big prize when it emerged my boyfriend dumped me, and I was alone.
My seventeen-year-old sister Delanie, known as “Lanie,” to us, sat in bed with her laptop while Dora, my sweet eleven-year-old sister lay on her belly reading. She was the surprise. My middle sister, Dahlia, watched TV. At not-yet-twenty-one, she wasn’t old enough to attend the drinks reception our aunt and uncle hosted for the soon-to-be-newlyweds.
I passed my sisters into the bathroom to pin up my hair.
Mum crowded into the doorway, annoyance pulling her brows into an angry line. “I think I can see a panty line in that dress.”
“Fine, I’ll change them,” I said, beyond frustrated. “I am putting my hair up. I will change my panties. Can I please, please just have space?”
“Fine,” she sighed, exasperated.
I slammed the door behind her, then braced my hands on the marble vanity. I let out a guttural groan at myself in the mirror. I didn’t see a VPL. I debated not changing my panties before I decided to throw a big middle finger at my mother. I pulled off my sensible underwear, popping them in the trash. If she didn’t like panty lines, well, she’d get no panties at all .
I continued to pile my hair on my head when there was another knock.
“I’m changing my panties and doing my hair!” I shouted.
“Daph, it’s me, sweetie.” It was my father.
“What?” I asked, mortified. “I thought you were Mum. What do you need, Daddy?”
“I just wanted to tell you we got the completed contract back and to say thank you.”
I opened the door.
“You did a great job, sweetheart. I am so proud of you for running this from start to close. I couldn’t have done the same at your age.”
“Thanks, Daddy,” I said.
He smiled broadly. “What is wrong?”
“Mum is driving her fucking nuts!” Lanie called.
“Don’t say fuck,” I corrected.
“You did,” Lanie batted back.
I rolled my eyes, “You’re a child.”
“Barely.”
Dad ignored it, focusing on my achievement. “Ignore Mum, okay? She’s all stressed and you know how she is. Go out, live a little. Get a drink before all of this begins.”
“It starts in like twenty minutes, Dad.”
“Not now. There were issues with the seating arrangement, and Anita went ballistic,” Dad said. “Go, be free. I’ll keep you Mum-free all night if it gives you both a breather.”
I hugged and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”