Measuring Up Love

Chapter 25

I reckoned it was safe to leave my Nissan in the office car park – Adam’s Volvo had survived a night there too… Once everyone had left for home, I grabbed my travel bag and got in his car. It was definitely more spacious than mine.

‘Do you ever clean this car?’ I asked.

‘What are you talking about? I just cleaned it the other weekend. In fact, I paid a couple of guys to have it cleaned professionally – you know, the car wash around the corner.’

‘Most of those places are just modern slavery.’

He started the engine and said, ‘I didn’t see any chains on them, and they seemed happy enough to take my money – it wasn’t cheap either. What’s wrong with my car?’

I pointed out the obvious. ‘It’s filthy.’

‘No, it isn’t. The mats are a little muddy and have some grass on them – because I was driving the client around on site all day – but there’s no rubbish in it, and the dashboard is fine.’

‘It’s full of dust.’ And he hadn’t entirely succeeded at hiding the chocolate wrappers under the seats.

‘Oh, come on, just because it’s not as sparkling clean as yours doesn’t mean it’s dirty. If you think mine is bad, you should see the other site managers’ cars: Ardas’s has dog hair everywhere, Chrissy’s has empty Coke cans and coffee cups all over hers, and oh my , that cigarette smell… And let’s not even talk about Joel’s… You do realise you have extremely high standards?’

‘Yes, when it comes to cleaning,’ I admitted.

‘When it comes to anything – can a man ever be good enough for you? ’

‘It depends on the man.’

‘No, it depends on you, Evelyn. Tell me, please, what would I have to do to live up to your expectations?’

I could feel his penetrating gaze on me, and the air began to feel heavy and hot in the car. However, the screen on the dashboard informed me it was only nineteen degrees Celsius inside, not dissimilar to the outside temperature – typical for late September.

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Then let me spell it out for you: what would I have to do for you to fall in love with me?’ he asked in a scarily serious tone, making me feel even more uncomfortable.

Why did he always have to bring up such awkward topics at the worst possible time?

‘I can’t answer that.’

‘Yes, you can – only you can.’

‘I don’t know… You’re not a bad guy, but…’

‘I get it; I’m just the wrong guy for you,’ he said, deflated. ‘But since your Mr Right is soon to be married to someone else, you should really start thinking about moving on.’

I clenched my fists. ‘I have moved on.’

‘If that was true, you’d be out there, dating, and you wouldn’t need a fake boyfriend for tonight.’

I decided I’d heard enough. ‘Alright, I can’t do this. Stop the car.’

‘I’m not going to stop the car,’ he replied calmly.

‘Then shut up and stop lecturing me. Have you looked in the mirror yourself, Mr… Mr… Odd Socks ?’

He laughed softly. ‘Is that the best you can come up with – “Odd Socks”? It’s hilarious.’

This was it; my cool had worn off. ‘No, I could go on all day about what’s wrong with you,’ I told him. ‘Firstly, you’re a big child, you can’t take anything seriously, and can’t even manage your own finances. How come you never seem to have any money, yet you’re on a great salary?’

I’d seen his flat – it was nothing special. I was also familiar with rental and utility prices in and around London. Adam never wore expensive clothes or had TV or streaming subscriptions, which explained his extensive DVD collection. Apart from his gym membership and the occasional drink with the boys from work, I had no clue where his income was going.

‘Have you got a lot of credit-card or gambling debt to pay off?’ I continued. ‘Or do you normally have to pay for the services of women because no one in their right mind would go out with you willingly for long? Also, if you’re struggling financially, it makes no sense why you’re so adamant on keeping your flat instead of downsizing.’

Once I finished my monologue, I turned away from him, and we both just stared ahead. I was still boiling with anger, but the air had started to cool around us.

Traffic was still bad, but he was expertly manoeuvring between cars and changing lanes to get to Muswell Hill fast.

Unsure why, I longed for him to fight back – to be enraged at my preposterous suggestions and tell me how wrong I’d been about him. It was his turn to list everything he found wrong with me and carry on with our bickering like he always did, to the point that I simply gave up listening.

However, a few minutes later, when I shot him a sidelong glance, he still looked miserable.

Had I hit the nail on the head? Surely I couldn’t have been right about all of it, could I? Or had I taken things too far this time? Was this the end of us? But I was going crazy – there had never been an ‘us’…

The silence between us still weighed heavily on my chest, and I started to feel guilty for ambushing him like that. Perhaps he’d change his mind about coming to dinner now. If I were him, I’d certainly play a lot harder to get after my little speech.

I opened my mouth, but before I could apologise, he spoke first.

‘I’m not that broke,’ he said quietly, still looking ahead. ‘I don’t have any debts and pay my bills on time.’

‘Then why do you never have any money?’ I asked softly, trying to sound sympathetic .

We looked at each other for a brief second. Adam’s eyes were close to tearing up, but he didn’t give in to the urge.

‘Do you really want to know?’ He sniffed. ‘It goes on chemo.’

My mind turned into an empty void, filled with his echoing words only, and my throat became dry. I now felt even more awful about the things I’d said to him. This was one of those rare moments when I needed to sit down. Then I realised I already was. Yet the feeling of vertigo didn’t pass, and all I could manage in a faint voice was, ‘ You’re ill ?’

‘Not me, my father,’ he said, instantly lifting the heavy load off my chest. ‘He’s recently been diagnosed with cancer. He told us last Christmas – what a great present, eh? He’s one of the unlucky ones who was diagnosed late… He hasn’t got much time left, but we all chip in to help him stay with us a little longer, mainly for the grandkids’ sake – not that he asked for it…

‘I’m the only one without a family, so I chip in a bit more than the others – my choice really. He had to go private because otherwise, he’d have been on a very long waiting list; you know what the health service is like these days…’ he added with a bitter smile. ‘And I’m not downsizing because I’ve got a long-term rent agreement. By the time it expires, Dad might not be around anyway…’

As I listened, I’d never felt more stupid in my life. He’d been carrying this burden, yet he was always so cheerful. I wondered if he’d told anyone at work, but if he had, perhaps I’d have heard murmurs about it now that I’d been spending more time with the team. It was unlike me to misjudge people, but I couldn’t have been more wrong about him – he was decent to the core.

I put a hand on his thigh in a supportive gesture. ‘Oh, Adam, I’m so sorry…’

‘It is what it is,’ he said. ‘I guess my financial problems will be resolved soon. We’ve never really got on well, but he’s still my father. ’

If only I could feel as loyal to my family as he did, but our ties were long broken. ‘I honestly don’t know what to say—’

‘Please don’t feel sorry for me. I’m an adult; I can handle it.’

‘You don’t sound like you’re handling it too well. Anything I can do to help?’

‘Actually, there’s this one thing…’ he started. ‘Can you just keep your hand on my thigh please? Maybe move it slightly higher up.’

I quickly retracted my hand. ‘Pervert.’

*

‘Green is your colour,’ he said, measuring me up as I emerged from the guest room.

I smoothed down my knee-length Bardot dress. ‘You wanted me to show my legs more, so there you go.’ Then, after examining his dark jeans and blue checked shirt, I added, ‘Have you not got a suit and a shirt that isn’t creased? Also, what about a matching pair of socks? Preferably something dark.’

‘Where exactly are we going? The Ritz?’

‘No,’ I replied quickly. ‘Come on – let me see your wardrobe.’

I followed him into his bedroom.

‘How do you find anything in this mess?’ I asked, going through his clothes.

‘What? It’s organised.’

‘That’s not the way to fold things.’

His clothes were just rolled up like bundles of towels, and multiple garments had been thrown across the same hanger. Nothing was arranged by style, colour, or even by weather.

‘Did you come here to carry out your OCD inspection, or are we still going out for dinner?’ he asked.

I bit my lip before I upset him again. One incident was enough for today.

There were only two suits to choose from: the navy one he’d worn in Manchester and a shiny light-grey one. I pulled out the latter and a white Oxford shirt .

‘Put these on,’ I told him. ‘Hold on – do you have an iron?’

‘No, all my shirts are non-iron.’

But the creases on his shirts tended to disagree with him.

‘Right, just make sure you keep your jacket on in the restaurant. Where do you keep your socks?’

Adam indicated to opposite his bed. ‘Top drawer,’ he said, throwing the garments on the bed and hastily unbuttoning his blue shirt, revealing his bare chest.

I didn’t want to get distracted by the view, so I moved across the room to examine the contents of the drawer he’d directed me to.

‘Do you never pair socks?’ I asked.

‘What for? They all do the same job.’

I shook my head – he was hopeless.

It took me five minutes, but I managed to find two black ones. They weren’t an exact match, but I was sure no one would notice.

‘Happy now?’ he asked while gliding his leather belt through the waistline loops of the suit trousers he was now wearing.

Once he’d put on the suit jacket too, I barely recognised him.

He’d looked smart in his navy suit, but in the grey one, he was absolutely dashing – like he’d been born to wear a suit. If only I could have said he’d been an ugly duckling before…

‘What’s wrong?’ He was turning back and forth, peeking over his shoulder to examine his suit. ‘Do I need a tie, or have you spotted a stain somewhere?’

‘No,’ I said, recovering from my daze. ‘You look good. Let’s go.’

*

‘Anything I need to know about your parents?’ Adam asked once some seats had become available on the Underground and we’d settled into them.

Naturally, he’d forgotten to book a cab while I was in the shower, so to avoid being late, we had to take public transport. Driving was out of the question as Dad would find it rude not to raise a glass (or two) to the newborn.

‘Not much,’ I replied, opening my evening jacket; it felt sickeningly hot in the busy carriage. ‘Dad can be difficult; he’s very particular and likes to do everything his way.’

‘Sounds familiar.’

I fought the urge to retort. Getting through tonight’s dinner unscathed was more important than getting into a petty fight with him again. So in the end, I told him, ‘Mother’s alright, but she isn’t a decision-maker. She does what Dad wants. Have you read The Shining ? She’s like a Wendy.’

‘I’ve seen it,’ he said, then, with sheer terror on his face, added, ‘I just hope your father isn’t a Jack Torrance and won’t try to hunt me down for dating his precious daughter. Maybe we should stage a break-up at the end of the dinner.’

‘You’re such a coward. Are you bailing out already? You haven’t even met my father.’

He smiled. ‘Nah, just winding you up.’

‘Just avoid topics like family, history, politics, sports, and religion, and you’ll be fine.’

‘Is there anything I am allowed to talk about?’

‘Thinking about it, it’s probably best if you don’t bring up any topics. And never ask questions directly of him, and answer only briefly when he asks you. Dad likes to find and criticise things in everything others tell him.’

‘That sounds familiar too,’ he noted with the same sarcastic undertone as before. ‘What about your sister? What’s she like? You never say much about her.’

‘Because there’s not much to tell. She’s like a doll,’ I said, and my words prompted him to smile. ‘No, you misunderstand,’ I added quickly. ‘Literally, Isabel’s like a giant doll: sweet and innocent on the outside and hollow on the inside. As long as Edward can satisfy all her needs, she’ll be happy.’

Adam leaned close and whispered in my ear, ‘Is she a little dominatrix like you?’ He then pulled away and added louder with a wink, ‘Runs in the family, eh? ’

‘I meant her shopping addiction and her craving for a fancy lifestyle – she’s that shallow.’

‘You don’t think highly of the females in your family, do you? Wonder where you got that from…’

‘If you’re suggesting that I’m anything like my father, then you’re wrong. You’ll see; he’s a lot worse than me. But unfortunately, it’s the truth: neither my mother nor my sister are what one would call strong characters.’ If I discounted Isabel’s stomping-her-feet-drama-queen moments.

‘Why would they need to be when there’s already an iron lady in the family?’

I rolled my eyes and wished he’d stop his immature behaviour.

‘What about whatshisname?’ he went on. ‘Isabel’s husband?’

‘Edward? He’s a lawyer, and my father loves him.’

‘You can’t be like your dad then if you’re saying he’s capable of real human emotions.’

‘Very funny,’ I said. Then, reminding myself again of what had happened in the car, I added in a softer tone, ‘You do know it’s nothing personal.’

‘Nothing personal to me that you don’t have romantic feelings for me – are you sure about that?’

I was close to losing it again. ‘Look, if you want to turn back and go home, please do it now,’ I told him.

‘No, let’s get this over and done with, and you’ll see your mistake because I’ll make them fall in love with me.’

‘Good luck.’

‘Hold on a sec. Your sister’s called Isabel and her husband’s Edward? Sounds very much like Twilight .’

I hadn’t taken him for someone who’d be familiar with a young-adult romance novel. ‘You’ve read the book?’ I asked, unable to hide my surprise.

‘I bought the DVD; I thought it was a horror movie…’

‘So you hadn’t done your research.’

‘I’ve only ever had one research subject,’ he said, looking deep into my eyes and making me recall our conversation at McDonald’s on our first date .

Feeling flushed again, I turned my head away.

*

‘So where are we going?’ he asked as we got off at Covent Garden to continue on foot, down towards the Thames. ‘I thought the restaurant was in Covent Garden.’

‘It’s not far – just around the corner now. You can practically see it from here.’

He stopped when he got a glimpse of the building ahead. ‘Your parents are staying at The Savoy?’

‘Listen, I’ll transfer you some money before we go in. My father will protest, but he expects the men in the family to contribute to dinner.’

He slapped his forehead. ‘Oh, great, now I’m a kept man – I feel cheap.’

‘Seriously, it’s going to be very expensive—’

‘No shit, Sherlock. It’s only The Savoy!’

I gestured for him to keep his voice down and stop being hysterical. I should have never asked him to come.

‘I meant he’ll likely order a couple of bottles of the most expensive wine…’ I said quietly.

‘How long are your parents staying here?’

‘Two weeks.’

‘Are your parents loaded, or have they spent their entire life savings on this?’

‘Let’s just go in,’ I said, pushing him towards the entrance. ‘My father is very strict on punctuality.’

After giving my surname at the reception, we handed in our coats and were led to a table at the far end of the restaurant. My parents were already seated. I was pleasantly surprised that there was no sign of Isabel or Edward. It meant my father couldn’t lecture me on timekeeping as Adam and I were one and a half minutes late.

‘Dad, Mum, this is Adam Cunningham. Adam, this is my father, Wayne, and my mother, Marian. ’

Mum got up to greet us both with a hug, but my father didn’t bother to rise. I still kissed him on the cheek just to annoy him, and he held out his hand for my companion to shake.

‘It’s an honour to meet you, sir,’ Adam said then turned back to my mother. ‘Marian, I can see where Evelyn inherited her beauty from.’

He was clearly overdoing it with the praise, but Mum still blushed and said, ‘Oh, thank you, Adam. What a pleasant young man.’

Dad also forced a smile but not before he’d winced. It was a micromovement only; I doubted that anyone else had noticed.

‘Where’s Isabel?’ I asked.

‘I’ve been wondering that myself…’ my father said, clasping his hands while his narrow eyes stared into nothingness. For the first time, he didn’t sound concerned but irritated when talking about his younger daughter.

‘I’m sure they’ll be here soon,’ said my mother, patting his arm in a soothing manner. ‘They must have just got stuck in traffic.’

She may have been right – there were a lot of roadworks going on around the city. Perhaps Adam and I would have been delayed more had we not taken the Underground. I was now ready to forgive him for not booking a taxi.

Just then, as if on cue, my sister arrived. She tried hard to make it look like she’d been hurrying, but her round face wasn’t flushed at all, and she was nowhere near out of breath. Her long blonde waves were also still intact, as was her perfect make-up.

A couple of weeks ago, when I’d last seen her, she’d still had quite a lot of extra weight to lose, but now she seemed almost back to her usual size ten. Employing an expensive personal trainer seemed to have paid off.

‘Hello, everyone,’ my sister said, her doe eyes pausing on Adam before she moved them to acknowledge the rest of us.

‘Where’s Edward?’ Dad asked. His voice was even, but I knew he was annoyed. His dark eyes betrayed him, and his mood was like the still sky before the storm .

‘He’s just parking up. Sorry, but getting here was a nightmare,’ Isabel replied with a dramatic hand gesture as if just talking about the London traffic would cause her sleepless nights.

My mother gave another calming pat to Dad with her signature ‘ You see – I told you …’ look.

‘Don’t worry, darling,’ Mum said then gave her a hug.

‘Isabel, this is Adam,’ I told her, and she threw me a knowing look at the mention of his name.

When my sister took one of the empty seats between me and my mother around the round table, she squeezed my shoulder, greeting me, too, with an awkward half embrace. But she only did this so she could whisper in my ear, ‘Not bad.’

‘I hear you’ve just had a new baby,’ Adam told her. ‘Congratulations.’

Isabel thanked him, but her smile wasn’t as radiant as usual.

Dad was busy studying the menu while Mum babbled on about how cute newborn babies were – to me, they looked like little wrinkled aliens – until Edward was shown to the table.

He was slim and only a few inches taller than Isabel; however, he usually had an enigmatic presence that made up for his average height. Yet now he seemed shorter, his face was sunken, and he’d have benefitted from a shave.

Edward was usually very decisive, but this time, he took longer than the rest of us to make up his mind what he wanted. He even changed his order twice, confusing the hell out of the waiter.

When my father requested two bottles of the most expensive wine on the menu, I exchanged a stolen glance with Adam. His silent shrug translated to me as, ‘Okay, you were right.’

Then the sound of low, intense vibration cut into Mum’s monologue about how she preferred the countryside to city life.

Edward pulled out his phone from his top jacket pocket and checked the screen. ‘Excuse me – I need to take this,’ he said, leaving the table .

I found it strange that he’d answered a call during dinner. Not something he’d have risked before in my father’s presence… as if Edward wasn’t quite himself tonight. Perhaps the stress at work was getting to him.

Not that my father would have opposed answering business calls during a family dinner; he’d done that himself countless times, even on Christmas Day. Work always came before manners, but never in public places.

‘My friend, Elaine, told me she’d read somewhere that it’s unhealthy to keep mobile phones close to the heart,’ Mum said, talking loudly but making it sound like she was only whispering, as if sharing a great secret. When no one commented, she added, as if verbalising my thoughts, ‘What’s wrong with Edward? He doesn’t look quite himself.’

‘He’s just not feeling too well,’ my sister said with hesitation in her voice. ‘So, Adam, how do you know Evie?’

She’d never called me Evie. I kicked her ankle under the table, and she winced but heroically restrained herself from crying out in pain.

‘Adam and Eve –, how cute,’ my mother said, clapping her hands, clearly having misheard the nickname Isabel had given me. ‘As if you two were meant for each other.’

Everyone at the table ignored her comment, but Adam seemed amused when he opened his mouth to speak.

I wished I could have been the one answering Isabel, but I knew my father disapproved of people cutting into each other’s words.

‘We work for the same company; a work party brought us together.’

Not bad , I thought. He hadn’t even told a lie.

‘Are you also in the commercial department?’ Dad asked, acting like he was genuinely interested.

Adam smiled and looked at me. ‘No, I’m not as great with numbers as Eve ,’ he said, and I expected him to never call me Evelyn again after tonight. ‘I work on the operational side of things. ’

Again, not a lie, but he was making himself sound like someone higher up the ladder. Indeed, the way he was now dressed, he could have easily passed for a director.

‘Yes, we expect great things from Evelyn,’ my father said. ‘In a couple of years, she may well be leading the board of directors at Brooks O’Gra—’

‘Sorry about that,’ said Edward, returning to his seat next to Isabel, who was still looking at Dad. My father’s throat tensed as he raised his eyes to cast a reproachful side glance at him. Wayne Harris wasn’t used to being cut off.

A waiter appeared with the first course just as my brother-in-law took his seat. I knew Dad was thinking that Edward had almost made us all wait. He shot him another angry look, but his son-in-law missed it, just like he had the first one. Edward seemed preoccupied with something else.

The conversation only resumed when our starter plates had been cleared away and we were waiting for the mains to arrive.

‘Isabel, how do you find being a mum of two?’ Adam asked, venturing into forbidden territory.

I kicked his ankle, but he just smiled on. I wondered whether he had muscles hidden all over his body that stopped him from feeling pain, or perhaps he was a better actor than I’d thought.

‘I’m not going to lie – it’s challenging…’ she said.

‘But you do have a nanny to help out,’ I pointed out before Adam started to feel sorry for her.

‘Yes, we do,’ she admitted half-heartedly.

‘I have three sisters and a brother; they all have children,’ said Adam. ‘I’ve heard some horror stories from them about raising kids, but they all say they wouldn’t trade being a parent for the world.’

‘Yes, being a parent is great,’ agreed Mum, and her eyes widened as she added, thinking, ‘Big responsibility though…’

‘Have you any more pictures of Amelie?’ I asked. ‘You only sent me the one when she was born.’ I found it strange she hadn’t bombarded me with baby photos like she used to do with Charlotte. I’d seen the new baby a couple of times now but thought Adam wouldn’t mind seeing her too, considering how much he adored kids.

Isabel fished her phone out of her rose-patterned clutch bag (matching her off-the-shoulder designer dress) and passed it to me. ‘Just keep swiping to the right.’

I held the phone so that Adam could see the images too.

‘How sweet,’ commented Adam. ‘How old? Two or three months?’

‘Six weeks,’ my sister replied proudly.

‘Do you like children, Adam?’ asked Mum.

‘Yes, I have four nieces and two nephews. I often babysit for them; Evelyn’s been helping out too.’

Mum looked at me with a suggestive smile. ‘ Really ?’

I knew what she was thinking. I smiled back at her just to satisfy her grandmaternal needs.

Fortunately, the mains arrived, and the baby talk was over.

When it was time to decide on desserts, Isabel and Edward excused themselves, and I signalled to Adam that we should also make a move.

My father, of course, still made my mother stay behind for a coffee and a slice of cake. He had to act differently from everybody else, just for the sake of it, and demonstrate no one could influence him on what he should be doing next.

Edward and Adam offered to pay for dinner. Dad vehemently declined their contribution as expected; however, out of sight, the two men settled the bill between them.

It was all a game of pretence. If they hadn’t gone behind my father’s back to pay, he would have been fuming later at their bad manners, first silently then later openly making sly comments about it, even though he was the one who’d arranged the dinner.

‘I think it went quite well,’ Adam said as we were walking back towards Covent Garden station. From there, the Piccadilly line suited both of us. He was going back north, and I was to travel in the opposite direction, changing for the District Line at Earl’s Court. ‘Your parents seemed alright… Aaand I think they liked me,’ he added, beaming.

‘My mother did; my father didn’t.’

‘What makes you say that? I was polite, charming, made small talk… Does he know that I’m only a site manager?’

‘No, it’s not about that…’ I hesitated for a second over whether to tell him the truth, but I knew he wouldn’t leave me alone until I gave him an answer. The answer. I took a deep breath and said, ‘My father is racist. He’d never say anything bad to your face though. It’s just how he is – he probably doesn’t even realise it.’

My words immediately washed his cheerful expression away. ‘Great,’ he said. ‘So why did you bring me along? Just to give a “fuck you” to your dad? I thought you were trying to impress him.’

‘I told you I couldn’t have gone through this dinner alone. At least he didn’t bring up why I’m not married yet and that a good wife should take care of the household and kids.’

‘No wonder – you’ve likely just given him nightmares about mixed-race grandchildren. Hmm… perhaps we should discuss the ding-dong question again then.’

‘You’re talking in riddles again.’

‘I was trying to imitate wedding bells,’ he said, still smiling innocently. ‘If you really wanted to drive your father nuts, it seems like marrying me would be one of the best things you could do. But you’re right; we should take things slow, like moving in first. We’d need to see how this OCD-thing pans out anyway.’

‘Do you really have to do this – wind me up again?’ I asked. ‘The purpose of bringing you along was to help me stay calm, but you’re really not helping.’

‘Sorry. Was I pushing your buttons again?’

‘You just never think, do you?’

‘You do enough thinking for both of us,’ he told me, but I looked at him with murderous eyes, and he quickly backtracked, putting his hands up. ‘Okay, okay, I’ll stop now. Do you need a back rub to help you relax? ’

‘In the middle of Covent Garden? No thanks. I’ll calm down in a minute if you finally shut up. But seriously, if you hadn’t been there tonight, I’d have jumped on him and killed him with my bare hands.’ Upon finishing the sentence, I realised I’d been unconsciously twisting and squeezing the edge of my jacket as if I was strangling someone. I quickly slid my hands into my pockets.

‘What are you talking about?’ he asked. ‘Were we at the same dinner?’

‘Did you not hear what my father said? That soon I’ll be a director on the board of Brooks O’Grady?’

Adam still looked puzzled. ‘I thought it was nice of him to say that. He’s right: at the rate you’re progressing, you will be one soon.’

‘Did you not hear the sarcasm in his voice?’

‘ Nooo ? I think you’re imagining things. You want to hate your father so badly that you’re looking for negatives in anything he says.’

‘You don’t know him like I do.’

‘True – still, I don’t think he meant it the way you think he meant it,’ he said cautiously. ‘And frankly, I’d be more concerned about your sister right now, with two kids and all…’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Well, it’s obvious Edward is cheating on her. I bet it’s the nanny. Your sister went awfully quiet every time she came up.’

‘No, he’s not,’ I protested. ‘They just had a baby.’

‘Yes, he is, and having a baby doesn’t stop someone from cheating on their spouse. The same thing happened with Sharon. Except she was the one who cheated; she left her husband for another man straight after baby number two was born.’

‘Are you saying Keith isn’t the father of the two girls?’

‘Did you not notice that he’s white, and Sophie and Bianca are both darker? Their father is black.’

I shrugged. ‘I did, but sometimes colour skips a generation,’ I said. I’d thought one of the grandparents may have passed the darker pigmentation on. ‘Not my business. Anyway, what makes you think that Edward’s cheating on her?’

‘Because he was sweating.’

‘It was quite warm in the restaurant, and Isabel said he wasn’t feeling well,’ I pointed out, trying to make him see how childish and ridiculous his theory was, but Adam’s reply came almost instantly.

‘No, he was nervous, and they didn’t even look at each other. He tried hard not to snap at everything your sister was saying, but he could barely control himself – typical display of guilt after being unfaithful. Though Isabel seemed like she’d accepted that it was over, as if she’d given up now, but Edward looked uncomfortable. Also, did you not notice something else? When your sister was showing us family photos, Edward’s head was chopped off in each picture.’

‘Well, those weren’t meant to be of the parents but the kids…’

Adam gave me a stern look, prompting me to think back to everything that had occurred at dinner.

I pulled a hand to my mouth. ‘Oh my God, you’re right.’ I’d been so preoccupied with my father that I’d ended up ignoring everything else around me. ‘Poor Isabel. I should give her a call.’ No matter how much we didn’t get on sometimes, she didn’t deserve this to happen to her.

‘She’ll call you when she’s ready to talk about it,’ he said, sounding annoyingly wise.

‘You seem to think you know women.’

‘I do – remember, three sisters and four nieces.’

We’d almost reached the Underground station when Adam stopped.

‘Wait a second,’ he cried. ‘Your father’s name is Wayne Harris, and you guys are super rich. Do you by any chance have anything to do with Preston Harris Construction?’

‘Busted,’ I said, trying to avoid his look. ‘Preston was my grandfather’s name. My father runs the company now.’

‘Thanks for giving me the heads-up. So you’re the granddaughter – or daughter – of one the biggest construction empire owners in the UK.’

‘It’s not an empire. Please don’t make a big deal out of it.’

‘I’m surprised your parents don’t have a mansion in the city to stay at.’

‘It’s being renovated.’ I’d been drinking, so the words just slipped out.

‘Fucking hell, you’re really like a millionaire then,’ he exclaimed, almost shouting, and some pedestrians turned to look at us.

‘Not me. My father is.’

‘That’s such a cliché.’

‘I don’t take money from him; I earn my own,’ I said. ‘Is that better?’

He shook his head. ‘That’s hard to believe.’

‘What? That I’m an independent woman and not a spoiled little daddy’s girl?’

I wished we’d stop talking about finances; I hoped he wouldn’t be reminded of our conversation in his car. That would just turn his mood sour again.

‘Then why not work for him?’ he asked. ‘Surely you could be a director in the family business already.’

‘It was never on offer. In case you haven’t noticed, my father doesn’t think women are cut out for hard work or managerial positions.’

‘Is that what you’re doing then? Trying to prove him wrong?’

‘I guess… in a way. But I think you’re right; the higher I climb the career ladder, the more he resents me.’

‘It means you’ve already proved him wrong, and he just can’t take it. It seems his company isn’t led by inclusivity and diversity then,’ he joked, but I didn’t crack a smile. ‘Who knows about this at work?’

‘No one. I haven’t told anyone. I don’t want people to know, and I’m not on social media for this very reason. I guess I’m lucky that Harris is quite a common surname; not many would make the connection. It was bad enough growing up. Being rich didn’t make me very popular at school. ’

‘That’s probably more to do with your social skills,’ he noted.

‘Are you saying I’m not a likeable person?’

‘I think you have the potential, but you just don’t make much effort to be.’

‘I stopped caring about what people thought of me a long time ago. I don’t need anyone’s validation.’

‘Except your father’s…’

‘Dad just bugs me more than anything. Because no matter what I achieve, I’ll never be as good as Isabel.’

‘Perhaps instead of financial reports, you should have been producing babies… But wait till your father learns about Edward’s infidelity. The successful marriage won’t look as successful then.’

I stopped to face him as we reached the Tube station and said, ‘You’d think… but let me tell you what will happen. My father will be all over Isabel. He’ll likely offer to pay for her to take a long vacation somewhere in the Alps or the Caribbean to get over Edward. When she returns, he’ll buy another house for her somewhere in the countryside or a luxury apartment in the city with her own maid. Of course, Isabel won’t oppose that…’ Even the idea of being so dependent and entitled disgusted me. ‘Anyway, thanks for today.’

‘No problem. Anytime.’

We took the lift to the platform rather than the 193 steps of the spiralling old staircase. Covent Garden station had been constructed over a hundred years ago, and my grandfather used to tell us chilling tales about a deceased actor haunting it. As a little girl, Isabel had been frightened of course, but my mum had told me that even at the age of four, my firm opinion had been that ghosts didn’t exist, showing a pragmatic approach already.

‘I guess I’ll see you at work next week,’ I told Adam as we exited the lift.

‘Hey, not so fast,’ he said, grabbing my arm. ‘Remember? You owe me for this. ’

His lips curved into that smug smile I’d seen on his face whenever the topic of sex had come up.

‘Oh no. I’m not staying over at yours again. Besides, I’m shattered.’

‘I wasn’t going to ask that…’ His smile widened, revealing almost all his teeth. He started to look like the Joker from Batman .

‘Then what do you want?’

‘I want to see where you live.’

‘No way.’

‘Come on,’ he said. ‘I can’t imagine your place being that bad… After all, you have OCD. Unless, of course, it’s all for show, and secretly, you’re a hoarder like Selena and your carpet stinks of cat poo. Or perhaps you live in complete darkness like a vampire. Come to think of it, you weren’t used to seeing much sunlight in that small office,’ he added, each word more irritating than the last. But I knew once he was fixated on something, he wouldn’t let go easily.

‘Fine, but you can’t tell anyone where I live.’

‘Why?’ he asked. ‘Is it really like a crypt or an off-the-grid bunker or something?’

‘Adam!’

‘Okay, okay, I promise I won’t tell anyone anything about your hiding place.’

*

My apartment was a half-hour journey on the Tube from Central London to Richmond and another five-minute cab drive. We could have taken a taxi directly from the restaurant had I known his demands sooner.

Adam had already started giving me an earache as soon as he caught sight of my apartment block, but he really wouldn’t shut up when he stepped into my multipurpose living space.

‘Oh. My. God. When you said you lived in a studio flat, I pictured a cute, cosy little bedsit. But it’s a penthouse apartment. How many square metres is this?’ he asked, pacing the apartment and admiring every inch as if it was a palace.

‘Sixty-five, including the balcony,’ I said as he walked through the French doors opposite my bed.

‘Your floor space is bigger than mine, and you even have a view of the Thames? You’re shitting me! I just realised something,’ he said. ‘You’re a snob. That’s why you don’t want anyone to see where you live.’

‘I’m not a snob; I just like clean and simple things, and I like my privacy.’

‘This is not simple, and you know that. Come on, Evelyn; we both work in construction. This is high-high spec. I doubt there would be anything to snag here; everything is so freaking perfect, shiny, and modern. Did you win the lottery, or did Daddy buy it for you? I know commercial managers earn well, but surely not this well.’

‘FYI, I bought it with my own money,’ I replied, annoyed. He clearly hadn’t been listening when I’d told him about not accepting financial support from my father. ‘I bought my first flat just outside London about four years ago after being made a senior surveyor and did it up out of my own pocket. I sold that, making some profit, and bought another one. I did that up too, and then another. I bought this latest one just before Christmas; I thought I deserved somewhere that didn’t need to be gutted for a change. Now you’ve seen it, can you please go? The cab is still waiting outside.’

Adam sat down on the sofa facing the kitchen units. For a second, I feared he was going to put his feet up on the glass coffee table, but he didn’t.

‘What are you doing?’ I asked.

‘Aren’t you going to offer me a drink at least? Your hosting skills need some work.’

‘I don’t keep alcohol at home.’

‘Water will do,’ he said. ‘I’ve had too much wine anyway. Funny, I’d have thought a hundred-pound bottle would taste significantly better than a five-pound one. ’

I walked over to the kitchen and filled a glass for him.

‘Perhaps you’re not such a big wine expert then.’ I was convinced that Joel could tell the difference…

‘Ooh, you even have one of those taps that make boiling water,’ he exclaimed.

I passed him the drink.

‘Cheers.’

‘I’d like to go to bed,’ I said and stared at him, waiting, then added, ‘It’s been a long day.’

‘Is that an invitation?’

‘No, it’s the opposite of that – you’ve already intruded into my home without an invitation.’

Adam took a few more gulps then moved to put the glass on the coffee table before rising from the sofa.

‘I’ll take it,’ I offered quickly.

‘I get it; you don’t want water marks on your immaculate table.’

‘Goodnight, Adam,’ I said, shepherding him out the front door.

‘Goodnight, OCD Boss Lady,’ he called back from the lift.

‘Weirdo.’

‘I heard that.’

‘You were meant to,’ I replied, but the lift doors had already closed.