‘I need to buy something to wear for a dinner tonight, but I think I’ve left it too late. Is there anywhere still open?’
The concierge checked his watch. ‘Ah, you’re lucky. Buchanan Galleries closes at nine o’clock – late opening for Christmas. You’re bound to get something there.’
One more drink and she might have pointed out that her mother was in hospital, her father was potentially leading a double life, her suspected half-sister appeared to be a spoiled princess, and she was here on her own – luck clearly wasn’t on her side.
Instead, she thanked him, accepted his directions and left, walking at a speed that was unwise after the consumption of alcohol.
There were crowds of people walking in and out of the Galleries when she got there. The first shop she spotted when she entered was Next. That would do. Hardly Roberto Cavalli, but she was a few hours and several hundred pounds short when it came to matching up to that.
Caro barrelled into the women’s department, and immediately spotted a dress on a mannequin: off the shoulder,calf-length, black and scattered with flowers. It would be totally out of place in her wardrobe. She didn’t do off the shoulder. She didn’t do flowers. She didn’t do tight. But apparently, four gin and tonics did all three, so she tracked down the relevant rail, picked out a size fourteen, then headed off to the shoe department. Ten minutes later she was clutching a pair of sexy high-heeled black suede boots. Nope, she didn’t do those either. Tonight, it would seem, she did. Her final purchase was spotted on the way to the till, a thick black velour cross between a shawl and a cardigan, perfect for wearing over the dress and warm enough that she wouldn’t die of hypothermia.
As she handed over her credit card, she realised that she’d just bought a full outfit in less than fifteen minutes. A record, even for her. Feeling like she could relax a little, she decided to walk to the hotel she would be staying in. She made her way through the hordes of people on Buchanan Street, then turned off as directed by Google Maps on her phone, into St Vincent Street, and then walked right along to the end, until she could see the M8 flyover ahead of her. The hotel was on her left, a tall, striking, modern building made of glass and pale stone.
At reception, she checked in, handed over her credit card and was allocated a room on the executive floor. An upgrade. The first time in her life she’d ever been upgraded and she was on her own with no one to share it with. Even if Todd was here, she could have giggled with him over the price of the pecan nuts in the minibar, and gasp at the incredible view over the city.
Instead, she flopped back on the bed and placed the call he’d told her not to make.
‘Hi, it’s Caro Anderson here, I’m just calling to check in on my mum.’
‘Hi Caro, Gillian said you’d call. She’s left a note to say there’s no change. Your mum has had a comfortable day and I’ve just looked in on her now and she’s absolutely fine.’
She wasn’t. Nothing about her mum was fine.
‘Okay, thanks. I’ll be back tomorrow, but if you need me please call me. I’m actually down in Glasgow, but I’ll have my phone on all night. Could you do me a favour please? Could you tell her I won’t be in tonight? I know she can’t understand, but just in case… I’d hate to think of her waiting for me.’
The voice on the other end of the phone oozed professional compassion. ‘Of course I will. We’ll see you tomorrow, Caro. You enjoy your night.’
Caro sighed as she hung up. The nurse clearly thought she was out on the town, not on some absolutely insane wild goose chase that had so far led to not much more than the kind of makeover normally seen on a TV show featuring Gok Wan.
Everything that had happened in the last twelve hours had made her think about her life though. She’d always played it so safe, so sensible. If today had taught her nothing else, it had brought home that there was a big world out there and perhaps she needed to experience a little more of it.
Perhaps.
Right now she’d settle for exploring the identity of the bloke in Lila’s photos. She still wasn’t convinced it was her dad. Yes, they looked alike. Yes, they had the same name, but a double life? Surely that kind of thing couldn’t happen in her world?
There was no denying, though, that it would explain a lot.
Caro pushed herself up, made her way over to the tea tray and flicked the kettle on. She was so rock and roll she was giving up the option of a gin and tonic from the minibar tohave a cup of tea and a ginger biscuit. Maybe she was too set in her ways to change after all.
Tea made, she lounged back on the bed. Seven o’clock. She’d decided to get there for seven forty-five, figuring that if Lila was still in the salon, she’d probably show up later than that, and she wanted to get there before them. She had another half an hour or so and she just wanted to close her eyes and think about what was ahead.
Her mind, however, was still stuck in the past, revisiting the weekend that had been a foreshadow of the clouds ahead, when her mum had forgotten her dad was coming home.
He’d greeted them in the same way he always did. A smile for her, then a long kiss for her mother. Some things never changed. Disney movies were full of dads who crouched down, arms wide when they came home from a trip or from work, and all his picture-perfect children ran towards him, gleefully screaming his name.
Their house definitely wasn’t Disney.
Her father had never been cruel, or nasty, or dismissive, he’d just been… detached. Distant. Like he was going through the motions with her, but never really engaged. He had no idea what her favourite colour was, what subjects she excelled in at school, what things she liked to do in her spare time or who her friends were. When he was there, he was perfectly civil, nice even. Like a friendly uncle. But one that was perfectly happy to walk away without looking back every time he left. If it wasn’t for Uncle Bob and Auntie Pearl, and their crazy, loving marriage, Caro would have thought her mum and dad’s dynamic was just the way every family behaved.
That day was no different.
‘Hey Dad, how’s things?’ she’d said, after her mum had bustled off into the kitchen to make him a coffee.
‘Good.You?’ he’d asked, picking up a newspaper, clearly not waiting with rapt anticipation for the answer. Caro didn’t expect hugs and boundless enthusiasm, but still, there was no ‘hey, I’ve really missed you. Come here and tell me what’s happened to you in the month I’ve been away.’ There was barely a passing glance.
‘Look Dad, while Mum’s not here, can I ask you – have you noticed anything… different about her?’
The narrowing of his eyes told her that he had. ‘Why, what are you thinking?’ He was giving nothing away.
