‘Aren’t I needed on the team?’ Frank asks, feigning dismay.
Dad snorts. ‘Haven’t heardyougetting many questions right, Frank.’
‘No, well, my talents lie in other areas,’ he says, catching my eye with a smile.
‘That’s right.’ Dad swivels to him, holding out a crystal glass. ‘Put another dram in that for me, would you, Frank?’
‘Right, so my talents are bartending,’ Frank says, with a good-natured eye-roll. ‘So what’s it to be, Kenny? The Laphroaig or the Balmoral?’
‘Let me try the royal stuff,’ he says, nodding towards Ian and Sandra. ‘Nice present, that.’
‘We didn’t know what else to get you,’ Ian says.
‘Youarethe man who has everything, Kenny,’ Sandra jokes.
A reluctant smile crosses his lips. ‘I s’pose I do,’ he says with a note of surprise. Perhaps it takes a day like this to remind Dad how much we love him.
Drinks are replenished for the show’s second round, and we’re all poised for the quick-fire segment.
‘Macbeth!’
‘Tower of London!’
‘Anne Boleyn!’
‘It’s Catherine of Aragon,’ Dad retorts, rounding on Ana.
‘Is it?’ she mouths, looking at me.
‘Anne Boleyn is the correct answer,’ the presenter announces and Ana’s face breaks into a triumphant smile. She laughs and Dad knocks back his scotch. Then we’re all poised again, and I can virtuallyseethe waves of intense concentration coming from my father; the man who apparently doesn’t need me, or anyone at all.
When the front door bangs, I assume Ian and Sandra must have contacted another friend of Dad’s. A surprise guest? How lovely!
Still clutching my glass of wine, I make my way past everyone to the living room door.
‘Hurry up, Mum,’ says Bella. ‘It’s literature, your subject—’
‘Yes, one minute, love …’ I push open the door and there, in the hallway, is Eddie. Eddie with a tear-stained face, a cut on his forehead and his arm thickly encased in a white bandage.
‘Eddie! Oh my God, darling. What happened to you?’
I go to hug him and he winces, pulling back.
‘Hi, Mum.’ A small rucksack thuds to the floor.
‘Oh, love.’ My eyes fill with tears. ‘What’s happened? Please tell me.’
‘Just an accident. Nothing serious. I’m okay.’
‘Why didn’t you call? I could’ve come to get you—’
‘No phone. I left it at Lyla’s and—’ He breaks off and rubs at his eyes.
We stand there in silence for a moment. ‘Copenhagen, you fool!’ Dad yells at the TV.
Eddie’s mouth twitches and he lowers his gaze. ‘Come through, love,’ I say gently. ‘Everyone’s here. Remember it’s Granddad’s birthday?’
‘Oh God, yeah.’ I try to lead him through by the hand but he stops in the hall. ‘Mum, if it’s all right,’ he says in a small choked voice, ‘I need to be here with you and Dad, okay? I want to move back home.’
