“You don’t need to carry me, I can walk,” Olivia says calmly from her position dangling down my back.
“I think this is the choice you made, baby.”
“Please, I might feel sick.” That’s all I need, but I do need to get her to our room and into bed and I’m unsure how easy that will be if I put her down. “And my boobs are falling out of my dress,” she adds.
I immediately settle her on her feet thinking that hanging upside down is likely to be less than conducive to her not vomiting down my back or more concerning, exposing herself.
“Sorry, if I embarrassed you. I just, well, sorry.” I know there’s more she’s not saying. “I love you.”
“I love you too and we can talk, tomorrow, okay?” Taking her hand in mine I prepare to turn us towards the lifts to go to our room when the caterer appears again. “What the fuck?” I mutter to myself but Olivia answers with a slightly drunken slur.
“You are preaching to the choir.”
I am beyond confused now and then he speaks. “Is she alright?”
“She’s fine,” I snap defensively as I pull my girl closer and attempt to brush past him, but he blocks our path. “Look mate, I have no clue what the fuck your problem or deal is here, but if you do not move from in front of us, I am going to knock you out.”
“Nice company you’re keeping.” He directs his words at Olivia.
“You do not get to judge me, nor him, never him!” She spits the words, defending me with venom in her tone that takes the man before us aback. “What do you want?” she asks him with a loud sigh.
“To talk, alone.” He cuts a glance my way.
“Then you’re going to be very disappointed,” I tell him before Olivia replies.
“So, talk, now. Bring me up to speed on where you’ve been and what you’ve been doing and maybe I’ll reciprocate.”
I have never heard such bitterness in Olivia’s voice before, her whole body is stiff with tension and suddenly the effects of the alcohol have disappeared. I am still clueless as to who this man is but my girl is seriously pissed off with him, more pissed off than I have ever seen her be with or about anyone, including her stepfather and the so called doctor who both raped her.
Oh fuck! I pull the business card from my pocket hoping against all hopes that this guy is not the aforementioned stepfather because if he is, I will actually kill him. Stone dead.
“Shit,” I mutter as I look down at the script on the business card. “Carrington’s,” I say to myself and suddenly it all becomes clear. This is Mr Carrington, Olivia’s father, the one who left her in the hands of her mother and ultimately the hands of her stepfather and doctor. I remember hearing Sarah say that if the catering turned out to be shit then she’d hold Olivia responsible because she’d seen their name as a good omen.
“Livy, I know you’re angry.” He can have no clue what he left my girl to endure, can he? And why is he calling her Livy? Nobody calls her Livy, except for me. Oh bollocks, have I inadvertently fucked up again?
“Angry?” she asks in a raised voice. “Oh no, I get angry when Mason leaves his clothes all over the floor and expects someone else to pick them up or when my train leaves the station early, oh, and when the self-serve till in the supermarket insists on every item being checked meaning it is many things but none of them express,” she almost screeches. “This goes way beyond angry, Daddy dearest,” she spits at him with real gusto.
“Mr Carrington,” I interrupt. “This has been a huge shock, for you both I’m sure, but Olivia has drunk too much to speak rationally and if you force this you may both say or hear things that can’t be taken back.”
He eyes me cautiously and then concedes with a single nod. “But please call me, Livy. We need to talk. I need to explain. You deserve that.”
Olivia is still staring and just as she appears to be about to speak the girl from earlier appears, already calling to Mr Carrington.
“Dad, are you actually coming home, Mum will be worried.”
Confused doesn’t even come close to how I feel with that word weighing heavy in the atmosphere that surrounds us all.
“In a minute, Anita.” He never takes his eyes off Olivia, “Livy—”
Clearly Olivia has had enough as she erupts like a volcano that has been lying dormant for a very long time. “No! Don’t you dare do this to me and stop fucking calling me Livy, you lost that right when you left me. Now get the fuck out of our way before I call hotel security. Just go home to your wife with your daughter. Mase, let’s go.” She seems a little calmer as she turns to me.
“Olivia, please, call me.”
She is already brushing past him as he utters those four desperately pleading words causing her to come to a standstill, turning slowly to face him again.
“Why? To what end? There is no place for us in your life. You have a wife, a daughter, what else do you need?” She is already heading for the lift, pulling me behind her before he has a chance to answer.
The lift arrives immediately and as the doors close with us on the inside I see the heartbroken look on Mr Carrington’s face and abject confusion on that of his daughter, his other daughter, because the one I am sharing a lift with is sliding down the wall until she is huddled in a corner, knees in her chest, arms wrapped around her legs while she sobs.
