Chapter 31
MINNIE
The navy, panelled entrance looms in front of me, standoffish and impassable, like it’s seen my credit score and deemed me unworthy of the private members club beyond.
Two girls around my age push past me and disappear inside, blithely swinging their Michael Kors bags.
I guess blitheness is what happens when you’re not here for coffee with your long-lost dad.
He’s never late, it’s a real bugbear of his. I take a deep breath and lay my hand on the door but can’t bring myself to push it. There’s a fat knot in my chest, but I try to ignore it despite how much it’s restricting my breathing. I don’t think even Chris Brown could help me now.
I thought I’d come round to the idea of this. I’ve written a list of questions and practiced my delivery and everything. Why? How? What? When? Why? HOW?
But all the preparation and self-help podcasts and manifesting and talking it over with Jack can’t guarantee it’ll go well.
I don’t even know what I want out of it.
What outcome will make me feel like joining Channel 3, lying to Mum for months, vomiting beside a yacht in Monaco, and walking around with moderate to panic attack-inducing dread for the last week was worth it?
If he enthuses about his new life and declares he fell out of love with our family – leaving me with some semblance of closure – will that count as success? Do I want to hate him, like Mum does? Will it make my intimacy issues worse to know the depth of his betrayal?
I decide it’s better to not know, and I turn back towards the Tube.