‘I think we’ve already established that,’ I blurt out, aware that James, Kim and Lorenzo have turned, startled, to face us.
‘It’s not the only route to a happy and fulfilled life,’ Miles barges on, looking at Kim now. ‘Sorry, I’m sure you’re averygood maths teacher …’
‘Iamactually,’ she mutters, dumping her coffee cup on the worktop and reaching for her unfinished wine.
‘I didn’t sit any GCSEs,’ Miles gloats.
‘Maybe they weren’t invented then,’ James mutters.
‘I heard that, Dad,’ Esther snaps.
‘My point is,’ Miles goes on, ‘I didn’t sit any exams, not a single one, even though I could’ve passed them all – because I followed my passion. If Ihadgone down the expected, traditional route, then I’d have become a teacher or a vet or …’ His gaze skims past me. ‘What d’you do again, Roberto?’
‘Lorenzo,’ I correct him.
‘I’m a youth project coordinator,’ Lorenzo replies steadily. ‘I work with young people in inner-city areas.’
‘Well, anyway,’ Miles blusters, ‘I’d have missed out on all those amazing opportunities—’
‘Like being on Saturday morning kids’ TV in 1989?’ James cuts in.
‘Dad!’ Esther exclaims. ‘What’re you on about?’
Miles’s florid face breaks into a grin. ‘I do believe you’ve been googling me, James!’
‘I just happened to see it,’ James mutters.
‘What did you find?’ Miles asks, crooking a brow.
‘Just you being interviewed,’ James replies quickly, clearly wishing he hadn’t brought this up.
‘So, what was I like?’ Miles enquires, feigning innocence.
‘Miles, can we drop this please?’ I say in an over-bright voice. ‘It’s not really important, is it?’
‘You had blond hair,’ James says. ‘Spiky on top, long at the back. A mullet, I s’pose you’d call it …’
‘Dad!’ Esther exclaims. ‘Why are youhumiliatingMiles?’
‘I’m not,’ James protests.
‘He’s not,’ I bark, before I can stop myself.
‘Oh my God,’ Kim mutters, shielding her eyes with a hand. Charlie, looking mortified, is studying his beer glass intensely.
‘Anyone like more coffee?’ I trill, wondering now what possessed me to do this thing; to have this stupid lunch, throwing everyone together and expecting it to go swimmingly.
What a terrible, terrible mistake.
Miles is peering, squiffily, at James. ‘Maybe I should be flattered that you’ve taken such an interest in my past …’
‘I’m not getting into this,’ James replies, looking thunderous. A rogue thought hits me:Please, James, get these people out of my house.I love my cosy cottage that was a wreck when we moved in, and took years of painstaking work to make it the home it is now. It’s a place of love and warmth and safety. And now a washed-up DJ is strutting about, jeering at James while everyone watches, stunned, and Esther jumps up from her seat.
‘Is this why you brought Miles here?’ she barks at her father. ‘To make fun of him in front of everyone?’
‘They don’t bother me, babe,’ her boyfriend announces, grabbing at the table edge for support.
‘I didn’t bring him,’ James insists. ‘He just jumped in the car—’
