Chapter 38
WILLOW
I check the time on my phone. How can it still only be half past nine? It feels like I’ve been sat here for days, watching Dad and his friends get progressively more pissed. Seriously, watching paint dry would be more fun.
Dad rises unsteadily to his feet and taps his glass with his spoon.
‘I’d like to propose a toast to my trouble and strife, Simone.
Only joking, darlin’.’ He blows her a kiss then turns back to us.
‘I knew from the moment we met, almost fifteen years ago, that I’d ask her to marry me.
I don’t think she knew she’d say yes till she clocked my bank balance. ’
He dissolves into gales of laughter. Simone looks thunderous. I bite back a smirk.
‘To the birthday girl,’ he says, raising his glass.
‘To the birthday girl,’ we all chorus obediently, though I can’t help feeling I’m not the only one going through the motions. I catch Amber’s eye and we share a small, conspiratorial smile.
‘How’s your Kir Royale?’ I ask.
‘Tastes like fizzy squash,’ she says, frowning myopically into her glass, which, I notice, is mysteriously full again.
‘I should warn you, it’s one of Dad’s superpowers.’ I point at the flute. ‘Topping people up before they’ve even noticed they’re empty.’
‘Noted,’ she says, nodding her head a little too vigorously. Her pupils are huge. Don’t tell me she’s pissed too.
Dad bangs his glass again. ‘As is tradition, Dominic, Barney and I will switch seats before dessert to give you delectable ladies a fresh piece of meat to feast your eyes on.’
Everyone groans but does as he says. I end up sandwiched between Amber and Dominic, which could be worse, though Simone, typically, is monopolising Dom and Dad, on Amber’s right, is firing questions about her Open University degree.
Two waiters clear our main course, returning a few minutes later with plates of sticky baklava and ice cream, spiced honey cookies and biscotti.
On the far side of the table, Victoria and Barney are having a whispered row, their faces flushed and angry-looking. Now this is more interesting than the Evil Stepmother flirting with Dom and Dad chatting up Amber. I cock my head to listen.
‘…had enough to drink, don’t you?’
‘Christ, who are you, my mother?’
‘Barney!’ Victoria hisses through bared teeth. ‘Give me your glass. You’re practically paralytic.’
‘And you’re being a bitch. But at least in the morning I’ll be sober.’
I tut under my breath. Who does he think he is, Winston bloody Churchill?
‘Right, that’s it. You need to go back to the villa and sober up.’
‘Who was that texting you?’ Barney says, ignoring her.
‘I told you. Dee.’
‘So why the guilty face?’
Victoria’s expression is murderous. This is dynamite. I can’t believe the others haven’t noticed they’re at loggerheads, but they’re all oblivious. I lean forwards, cupping my chin in my hands.
‘Don’t talk to me about guilt,’ Victoria snarls. ‘When exactly were you going to tell me you’d sunk all our money into Felix’s warehouse development? You’d better be ready to pull it out sharpish if we need to.’
Just like that, all the colour drains from Barney’s face and his shoulders slump. He reminds me of my blow-up mattress when I went on our school’s Duke of Edinburgh expedition. All puffed up one minute, completely deflated the next.
‘What’s the matter? God, don’t tell me it’s…
’ Victoria swings round to look at Dad. He’s angled away from her, his attention laser-focused on Amber.
Victoria pales too, comprehension dawning on her face as she turns back to her husband.
‘Please don’t tell me there’s a problem. Not with my inheritance.’
When Barney can’t meet her eye Victoria rears up out of her seat. ‘You utter bastard! What have you done?’
Not giving him a chance to reply, she picks up her bag and storms out of the restaurant, leaving Barney gaping, slack-jawed, at the space she’s left behind.
‘What’s got into her?’ Simone asks, not bothering to hide her irritation. She glares at a couple on the far side of the restaurant, who’ve swivelled in their seats to watch the drama.
‘Probably something to do with the fact that Barney has omitted to tell his good wife he’s invested all her money in the Wapping development,’ Dad says in a bored voice.
His arm is draped along the back of Amber’s chair, though I don’t think she’s noticed.
Her champagne flute is empty again. I watch as she lifts a hand to brush her fringe away from her face, only to knock her glass off the table.
Dad catches it before it falls and smashes, then tops it up with champagne and cassis.
‘So?’ Simone’s voice is sharp. ‘She should be pleased, shouldn’t she? You said that scheme was a licence to print money.’
Dad rubs his chin. ‘There are some… teething troubles. The planners are getting their knickers in a twist because it’s a grade one listed building. Nothing to worry about.’ He belches under his breath. ‘Probably.’
‘So you keep saying, but I need assurances, Felix!’ Barney’s voice is rising. ‘We can’t afford to lose this money.’
‘Then you should never have committed it! First rule of investing, Barney. Never gamble what you can’t afford to lose. Everyone knows that.’
‘Gamble?’ Barney lets out a bitter bark of laughter. ‘Fuck’s sake, Felix. You told me I’d double my money in eighteen months. You said it was a cast-iron, sure-fire bet.’
‘There’s no such thing. Face it, you were blinded by pound signs. It’s not my fault you didn’t do your due diligence. Play with the big boys, you play by our rules.’
They both fall silent as the restaurant owner arrives with the bill. Dad’s gaze turns steely as he addresses Barney.
‘Any danger of you putting your hand in your pocket tonight, you fucking freeloader?’
Barney’s head jerks back like he’s been slapped in the face, then he reaches into his jacket, pulls out his wallet, peels off a wad of cash and throws it onto the table.
‘There. You’ve taken everything else, you conniving bastard. You might as well take that too.’ He stands so suddenly his chair clatters to the floor. We all watch in stunned silence as, with a final poisonous look at Dad, he barrels out onto the street.
‘What?’ Dad says defensively as our gazes return to him. ‘It’s not my fault the posh tosser got greedy.’
I swallow hard. Barney’s voice was so full of rage, I can’t help wondering if this time Dad’s gone too far.