The overexaggerated smooching noises continued.
‘I wouldneverkiss my sister. Ew. Ew. Ew.’ All at once Freya’s kissing sounds were joined by a loud retching fromFin. ‘I’m going to be sick on you, Freya. You can run but you can’t hide!’
Eleanor heard the thuds of their footsteps descend down the stairs once more. She ran over to the mirror and gasped. Her carefully painted face was now smeared and smudged. Black streaks of mascara ran down her face, and her tears had made tracks through her layers of orange foundation.
‘You are stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid,’ she cursed, wiping the remnants of the make-up off her face. ‘This was all so stupid.’ She threw herself on to the floor and cried.
She heard a tentative knock on the door.
‘Eleanor darling, we really need to be going. Is everything all right in there?’
‘Yes, Dad. Give me five minutes and I’ll be down.’ Her voice was thick with tears.
‘You don’t sound OK, sweetheart. Are you sure you don’t want me to come in?’
Eleanor took a deep breath and tried to compose herself.
‘I’m fine, honestly. I … I think I just inhaled too much perfume.’ She was an awful liar and they both knew it.
Slowly she heard the door creak open. The soft familiar footsteps of her dad padded across the tiles.
‘What are you doing all the way down there?’ he mumbled, lowering himself slowly down to join her.
Eleanor shrugged her shoulders.
‘Come, now. You’ve got a disco to get to, haven’t you?’
‘I don’t want to go,’ she whispered.
‘Ah, yes you do. You’ve just made the silly mistake of putting on someone else’s clothes, that’s all. No one wants to go to a party pretending to be someone they’re not.’ He placed his finger under her chin and lifted it. ‘Why don’t you change into those gorgeous dungarees of yours, put your trainers onand show everyone how stunningly beautiful Eleanor Levy is … just as she is.’
Eleanor smiled, her heart swelling with affection for her dad, his kind blue eyes and crepe-paper face. She nodded slowly.
‘That’s my girl.’ He kissed her lightly on her powder-caked forehead.
Now
Fin
Over the next couple of weeks, Fin found himself settling into a comfortable and much more productive routine. He visited his mum every Monday, Wednesday and Friday afternoon, timing his visits, with the help and intel of Nurse Clara, so as to avoid any future crossovers with Angela. He felt bad – she’d tried to call him a few times since their reunion lunch – but he hadn’t had the heart or the energy to return her messages.
It’s not like you’ve got anything better to do.
Excuse me … wallowing in self-pity and eating chocolate digestives is very time-consuming.
Fin reached down and fished out the last biscuit from the packet. ‘Another day, another packet eaten.’ He sighed proudly. There was a very good chance that Fin would return to America paler, fatter and much poorer than he’d been before he left. Maybe Camilla would be grateful he’d dumped her after all. A pang of regret struck his heart. Since the moment she’d walked out of his apartment, he’d heard nothing from her. Not even one angry, heartbroken, raging WhatsAppmessage. Funny really; his life in LA seemed so solid and permanent, but ever since he’d left, the only person he’d spoken to was Rob.
That’s not funny. It’s downright sad.
Fin grabbed his phone and fired off a message to his friend. Less than a second passed before it began to ring in his hand.
‘Hello, my man, how’s everything going over there in rainy England?’ Rob’s sunshine voice beamed in Fin’s ear.
‘Why the hell are you up so early? And why do you sound so happy?’
‘Can’t a man be happy to speak to his best mate at five in the morning?’ Fin could hear his friend’s smile all the way from LA.
‘Partying on a Monday? You are a braver man than me.’
