‘I read about your wedding in the paper.’

‘Oh.’

‘I believe I even have a grandson.’

‘He’s asleep.’

‘We won’t disturb him then.’

‘Do you have other grandchildren?’

‘Yes. Two.’

‘That’s nice. I suppose they get to see you all the time.’

There is a slight pause.

‘Yes,’ her father confesses softly. ‘But I’m here now. Sorab—that’s the little one’s name, isn’t it—will get to see his grandfather just as much.’

Lana says nothing.

‘I’d like to give my daughter away at her wedding.’

‘You can’t. Billie’s dad is giving me away.’

‘That’s a shame. That should be my privilege.’

‘Dad, did you ever think what would happen to me if Mum had died after you left?’

He doesn’t squirm, I’ll give him that. Even though I cannot see his face the words that come out of him are smooth and well-oiled. ‘If your mother had died then Social Services would have contacted me, and you would have come to live with me.’

‘How would Social Services have contacted you, Dad? Did you leave a contact number with anyone?’

‘Let bygones be bygones, Lana. I’m here now.’

‘They would have taken me into care, Dad. Do you know what happens to kids in care? They get shunted around and abused! You simply didn’t care either way, did you? You just went on and started a brand new family. Not once did you try to contact me. I am nothing to you.’

‘I’m here now.’

‘Why are you really here, Dad?’

‘Look, I took care of you for years. That counts for something. We are blood.’

‘How much, Dad?’ Her voice is cold.

‘I don’t want your money.’

‘Dad, you will never have a relationship with me. Your best bet is to name your price now or be forever silent.’

‘All right. A hundred thousand.’

My eyes widen with shock, but Lana’s answer is immediate. ‘Done. I will have it transferred into your account by tomorrow.’

‘Now that I think about it, you are rich beyond anything I can ever imagine. Can you make it two hundred thousand?’

Lana must have nodded because he thanks her.

‘Goodbye, Dad.’

‘I won’t say goodbye to my own flesh and blood. You’ll see me around, girl.’

I hear the door close and quickly come out. Lana is walking towards me. When we are about five feet apart she stops. Her shoulders are hunched, her face pale, but she is trying to be brave.

‘What did he want?’ I ask.

‘What do you think?’

I say nothing.

‘Come on, let’s have some tea,’ she says, but her mood is changed irreparably. She pours out the water that is already in the kettle into the sink and refills it. The kitchen is full of that noise. Suddenly she stops and puts the kettle down. Takes a deep breath.

‘He never loved us,’ she whispers. Her eyes are full of unshed tears. I was about to tell her to sit down while I make the tea when we hear the front door open. Before either of us can move Blake is standing in the kitchen doorway. For a moment they simply stare at each other.

‘How did you get here so fast?’ she gasps.

‘I was closer than you thought,’ he says simply.

With a great sob she rushes into his arms. I am invisible to either of them. He holds her in the tight circle of his arms.

‘I’m so sorry, my darling. So sorry,’ he whispers into the top of her head. She presses her cheek into his chest and squeezes her eyes shut. Forgotten by both of them I watch them with avid curiosity. So this is what the great man is like when he is with her. Tender. Gentle. As if she is irreplaceably precious. It makes me long for that sort of a love.

Lana lifts her head slowly and looks up into his face. There is something sad about the way he gazes into her eyes. It is as if it is he who has been wounded and not her. Billie is right, he truly, truly does love her. No yachts, no expensive toys, no helicopters. This was the real thing. They didn’t need anything or anyone else. They were quite simply blissfully happy with each other.

‘He came for money,’ she says so softly I almost don’t hear it.

‘I know,’ he soothes gently.

‘I gave it to him.’

He raises his hand to her face, and with the back of his hand brushes her cheek. He does not ask how much Lana has given away, but says, ‘You do know, he’ll be back for more.’

‘When I was very young he used to carry me on his shoulder. And he would make my mother laugh and laugh and laugh. In the end, does it matter that he didn’t love me? Does that mean I should love him less?’

‘Shall I arrange for him to receive an allowance?’

Lana nods. ‘Yes, let him have his money. Let him be happy. I have you and Sorab. Why should I wish ill on anyone else? My mother forgave him. I didn’t. I let it eat me up all these years. Let him be well.’

They don’t hear it, but I do. The boy is awake in the other room. He is opening his door and making his way towards the kitchen. I make a small sound in my throat and Lana swivels her head in my direction.

‘Oh my God, Julie. I’m sorry. I didn’t invite you here to witness my family drama.’

But I am no longer looking at her. I am looking at Blake, how his eyes have frozen over as soon as they left Lana and found me in his kitchen. He flips out his phone from his pocket.

‘Tom will give you a lift home,’ he says and starts dialing. The speed at which Tom answers is impressive. ‘Tom, can you pick Julie up from the lobby.’

The child, his face still sleepy, appears in the doorway.

Again I see a transformation in Blake’s face. All the lines, all burdens in his shoulders leave. ‘Lookie who’s here,’ he says, and, bending at the knee, opens his arms. The boy toddles over to him, little arms outstretched like a miniature Frankenstein. His small arms encircle his father’s neck and his father kisses him and lifts him high into the air making him squeal with delight.

Lana turns towards me.

‘I’ll call you tomorrow and we’ll arrange that makeover trip,’ she says. I take my gift from the kitchen counter and we go out towards the front door. I feel strangely reluctant to leave. I want to stay and absorb the deep intimacy and happiness I have witnessed. I don’t want to go back to my shitty home and my non-responsive, miserable family, all trapped in their layers of lard.

‘Thank you for my present.’ I smile, clutching the box.

Lana smiles back. She opens the front door and walks me to the lift. She presses the button to call it and it arrives very quickly. The door swooshes open.

‘Call you tomorrow,’ she says again, and the doors close on her.

Seven

The next time I see Lana is a week later, on a Thursday. She sends Tom to pick me up to bring me to her apartment. I sit inside the clean, softly scented interior of the Bentley wearing my best jeans, a top patterned with pink daisies teamed with a hot pink jacket and sandals with pink bows.

‘I love your top,’ she says as soon as she opens the door.

‘Thank you,’ I reply, but I am thrown into confusion. Does that mean she doesn’t like the rest of my outfit? Lana is in a white sheath dress and a pair of deep red wedge shoes. White contrasts beautifully with her hair. She looks cool and understated.

There is a middle-aged woman in the apartment. Lana introduces her as Gerry, the nanny. She smiles pleasantly, and goes back into Sorab’s room. She is taking the boy out to the park.

‘Hello,’ I greet the child.

He looks at me solemnly. There is a great deal of reserve about this child. He is eerily adult-like. Lana is right, he is exactly like his father. The nanny leaves with the boy and Lana takes me into the kitchen.

‘I baked a carrot cake yesterday. Want a piece?’

‘That would be lovely,’ I say, and climb onto the stool I had used the last time I was here. She already has a teapot ready. She puts a cup and saucer in front of me and pours some tea in. Then she pushes a sugar bowl and a jug of milk towards me.