‘What ethics?Pssht, Minnie, journalism is your job, not your life. We all need to be reminded of that sometimes. We’ll talk more over a bottle of red, hm?’ Her smile’s earnest as she touches my arm and disappears inside a cubicle.
Chapter 41
MINNIE
LONDON
Once again, I’m early – a feat in itself – but this time, I don’t circle Soho, I don’t let myself pause outside the entrance, and I don’t flee like a coward. My position of choice is a coffee table and two armchairs, clearly visible from the stairs so he can’t miss me, and so I can leave easily if I need to.
I refuse to overthink this. I won’t have our reunion dangling over me indefinitely. My life is one giant mess right now so I might as well lean into it. A gets-worse-before-it-gets-better sort of thing.
At the very least, I know what I’m not going to do. Hearing his perspective on what happened might kill me, so I’m not going to ask. I won’t bring up his girlfriends humiliating me, the nights I fell asleep listening to Mum wailing through the wall, or how it feels to have the life I knew ripped from beneath me. He doesn’t deserve to know, but I deserve to heal. I don’t understand much at the moment – where my relationship is at, how solid my job is, what Mum thinks of me – but I do understand my dad’s integral to moving forward.
Jack taught me some breathing exercises, but I don’t need them. My leg’s bouncing and my heartrate’s skittering but thestress is manageable. I’m more alert than I’ve been in days. The tidal wave of guilt and anxiety has temporarily paused.
‘You’re early!’
I look up from playing with the menu and it’s him. It’s really him. In a trench coat even though it’s warm outside, like he’s been softened by decades in Monaco.
‘I’ve never known you to be early,’ he adds.
The Minnie of six months ago would’ve made a snarky comment about how he doesn’t know anything about me, but the Minnie of now doesn’t want confrontation. I opt for a nonsensical noise that comes out like an ‘aauumm.’ Excellent start.
Twelve years and you can’t even muster an intelligible word. You have two languages to pick from.
Do I get up? Hug him? Shake his hand? Wave? I make a snap decision and motion to the chair opposite. We’re not physical touch people, and I don’t want to be that close.
‘Traffic good?’ I enquire.
He unbuttons his jacket. ‘I walked, actually. I’m only over in Claridge’s. It’s a lovely day so I thought I’d get some fresh air.’
‘It is lovely. Unseasonably warm for September.’
It is awkward, of course it is, but it seems to be only on my side. My dad’s his usual camera-ready self – unruffled, perfectly at ease, immaculately dressed. But his teeth are still too white.
Fortunately, a waiter stops by our table, and the tension takes a short interval while we order. My dad raises his eyebrows when I decline a cake – I’m not a fat kid anymore (though I will stop by my favourite Scandi bakery after. I deserve it, this is a big deal and I haven’t eaten all day).
‘Thank you for meeting me here,’ he says once the waiter’s gone.
The tension’s back with full force. ‘Thank you for flying to London.’
‘It’s no problem. Gives me a chance to see your grandma.’
My grandma. My battle-axe, frightfully posh, little-girls-must-learn-to-hunt, I-will-call-you-Amelia-because-Minnie’s-not-a-real-name grandma. I haven’t thought about the other half of my family in years. Uncles, aunts, cousins, step-cousins. A stepmother. A stepbrother.
‘H-how is she?’
‘Oh, you know her. Turned ninety last week and is hellbent on moving house by herself. My brother said he caught her trying to lift the fridge.’
Sounds like her. A smile breaks out of its own accord. I was never super close to my dad’s side but I’m pleased she’s the same as I remember. ‘That’s good.’
‘I’ve really enjoyed watching you out there reporting for Channel 3,’ he remarks, picking lint off his jumper.
My skin crawls at the thought of him watching me fight for airtime, donning small skirts and vacuous smiles. Working my socks off to be reduced to a grid girl.
‘You’re very natural up there. Runs in the family, I suppose,’ he says with a self-indulgent smile. ‘Do you love it?’
I have to be careful what I say. He’s on the Ackland board, plus he’s pals with Bri Bri. ‘I love presenting, particularly opening up the sport to new people.’
