I stick to one-word answers and nods through lunch. Grateful when the servers approach to clear the dishes. Then Jonathan clinks his glass and raises his champagne flute.
“To Richard and Lizzie, always with us.”
Dan and I trade an awkward glance, and clink our glasses ina polite chime. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Valerie’s hand quivering, bubbles trembling in the glass.
“And to Dan,” Grace jumps in quickly, steering Valerie’s attention away.
“And his meteoric rise,” Jonathan adds with a grin.
“As long as he keeps paying for these meals.” Valerie flashes a small smile, composing herself. “The fish was exquisite.”
“I’ll tell the chef to pack some for you.” Dan smiles.
“How about you pack the chef up for me?” Valerie winks.
“Okay, that’s quite enough champagne for you, Mum.” Grace tries to steal her glass, but Valerie holds on to it with both hands, laughing hysterically. I remove the rest of the bottles while they fight it out.
Then Valerie claps her hands and orders us all to the railings just as Tower Bridge begins to open in the background. Like we’re six again. But who would dare argue with her?
Dan trails after us, dragging his feet. Only to change his mind halfway, when his phone rings. For the fifth time since lunch.
“I have to take this.” He makes an apologetic face.
“You’ll miss the bridge,” Valerie drawls. She’s definitely had too much to drink if she thinks Dan cares about the bridge. No one does.
“Time is money, Val,” Dan replies with a sly grin. “I’ll be right back.”
“Did he just say time is money?” Grace giggles.
I stare after Dan, watching him walk away, but his words seem to stay with me, ringing in my ears, getting heavier and heavier, until they drown me.
“Time is money, Richard. A concept beyond the comprehension of a civil servant,” Grandpa says as we stand in the airport private loungewith our luggage. A ten-year-old me holding on to my mum, next to Dan.
“I understand perfectly, Elton. Time is money. Money is power. Power is control. And weallknow how much you love to control the world with your fists. But you don't control me or my family. Not now. Not ever. We’ll see you in the States. Have a great solo ride on your private jet.”
“At least let Daniel and Eva come with me. It’s a long time for a commercial flight.”
“Not a chance. My family stays with me.”
“They are my family, too. They have my name.”
“And we all know how you made that happen. But that’s all they’ll ever have of you.”
“You’re fighting,” I complain as Dad walks back to us.
“Again,” Daniel adds.
“I know,” Dad whispers and ruffles my hair. “Don’t worry, Bean. It’ll be fine.”
My chest tightens as the words in his voice hit me again.
“Don’t worry, Bean. It’ll be fine.” I hear dad’s voice as I lie upside down, suspended by the seatbelt, the weight of my body crushing my head, red trailing up my nose. My eyes flicker, bloodstained petals of metal and shattered glass zooming in and out of focus under the blinking headlights.
“Close your eyes.” Dad’s hand grips mine. Then?—
“Bean!” Dan’s voice cuts through my trance as his face snaps into focus, just a heartbeat before the floor rips out from under me.
One second, I’m holding on to the railing.
