Caro sighed. ‘I have no idea. He’s still got his back to me.’
‘Look, you have to go over now. You won’t have another chance at this.’ Todd countered. ‘If it’s not him, you can just make some breezy claim of mistaken identity.’
‘And if it is him?’ Caro pressed.
‘Then at least it’ll take some of the heat off the poor bugger that just got jilted. You have to do it. You’ve got nothing to lose,’ he said, repeating her thought from earlier.
He was right – but knowing that and acting on it were two separate things. Besides, after all the anxiety, she wasn’t actually sure her legs would support her at the moment.
‘I fricking hate it when you’re right,’ she groaned. ‘Okay, I need to hang up – only five per cent battery now.’
‘Don’t hang up! Don’t you dare hang…!’
She hung up.
Right then. This was it. Pushing herself up to a standing position, like a baby giraffe trying out its legs for the first time, she stood for a second, checking that she could carry her own weight.
She succeeded. Just.
With a cheesy smile to Mrs Stern Face at the next table but one, she made her way down the two steps to the lower area. There were two choices, go right, then walk up the aisle that led directly to the door. Or walk straight ahead, pivot right, and go past the row of diners sitting along the window,practically skimming the Anderson family’s table. She chose the latter.
One Next sexy suede boot in front of the other. Left. Right. Past the French team, all of whom were surely having their conversations drowned out by the rave-thudding beat of her heart.
Left. Right.
Now a 90-degree right turn, walking parallel to the window. Past one table, then another. There were only ten feet separating them now, and she had direct eyeline on his side profile now. If this wasn’t her father, then he was a twin, separated by birth. Or a clone. His hair was longer now, there was a bit of a designer stubble thing going on, but there was absolutely no doubt that if her dad committed a murder and this bloke was in a line-up, he would be packing for a long stretch at Her Majesty’s pleasure.
The boyfriend and the mother were deep in conversation, but he was sitting back, unengaged, drinking from a champagne glass. That’s when she knew. She’d seen that posture so many times over the years, that separation, the demeanour that reflected a lack of interest, a man that wasn’t concerned with the lives of the people that were sharing his oxygen.
She stopped in front of them. As if he sensed her presence, he glanced up and their eyes locked.
It was him. No doubt at all. Daddy dearest. For a second, she wondered if he’d try to pretend he didn’t know her, maybe make a run for it, but he did the last thing she expected. He closed his eyes, as if to block out the fact that she was there.
The mum and the boyfriend became aware of her and broke off from their conversation.
‘Sorry to intrude…’ she said, heart hammering. Hang on, why the hell was she apologising? At least he’d opened his eyes again. ‘I’m…’ She stopped, looked at him. The spineless, cheating, deserting fucker. She wanted to see him squirm, to make him as uncomfortable as he could possibly be. She tipped her head to one side, eyes challenging, hostile. ‘Actually, would you like to introduce me?’ she said, with a cold calm that in no way reflected what she was feeling inside.
There was a pause. Longer. Uncomfortable. Two sets of eyes staring at her, one staring straight ahead as if she didn’t exist.
‘You’re Caro,’ said a calm, clipped voice.
Caro’s head spun to face the speaker. Lila’s mum. ‘You know?’
Her reply was delivered with an air of… what… resignation? Weariness? ‘Yes, I know.’
‘I don’t,’ said the boyfriend, clearly baffled, but staring at her, like he recognised her but couldn’t quite place her.
‘Please sit,’ Louise said.
Now Caro’s first instinct was to run. Actually, that wasn’t true. Much as she didn’t approve of violence, her first instinct was to slap her father as hard as humanly possible across the back of the head, and strut out of here, the way Lila had come in, dignity and class intact. She knew now. It was him. He was a lying, cheating prick. Did she really need to know anything else? Did she really need to sit down and give him an opportunity to explain or salvage his conscience?
All her apprehension had dissipated, replaced with a potent mix of confusion, curiosity, fury and feet that were hurting in new boots.
She sat down.
The gutless wonder finally spoke. ‘Cammy, this is my other daughter, Caro.’
‘But… but I thought Lila was an only child?’
