‘He said she was trying to shield you from …’
‘Come on, no child wants to hear that news about their mother, but every child deserves to.’ He is firm in his opinion, pain etched on his face.
‘He told me snippets. Mostly he’s buttoned up about you and your mum which is part of his complexity and one of the reasons I’ve been trying to help him.’
He snorts. ‘He’s about as complex as a one-piece jigsaw. Why would my father hire a happiness coach? He’s never had any trouble helping himself to it as far as I can tell.’
I stand my ground. ‘He’s miserable about the past and conflicted about his identity and actions. I also saw the look on his face when he set eyes on you on his birthday. He loves you, Joe, although he might never have told you, and he’s really keen to see you. Talk it out with him. Hug it out too if you can bring yourself to forgive him.’
‘A big family reunion? Not happening. He’d probably invite the press.’
My phone rings. Checking out the name, I look up at Joe. ‘It’s your dad …’
He shrugs. ‘It’s your client.’
‘I’ll take it in the other room.’
A few minutes later I return to find Joe sitting on a kitchen chair, finishing off a coffee he made himself. ‘OK, dad update part one. Up until two minutes ago he thought you came to his fiftieth party as his son and not the pizza guy. I thought it was only fair to put him straight and he sounded quite gutted by the truth. He thought you’d forgiven him. He wants you to forgive him. Says he’ll do anything for the chance to see you and explain. And make amends.’ Joe bites his bottom lip, and I can tell he’s about to refuse, but as Vince’s coach and Joe’s friend I need to help them come together.
‘Dad update part two? He’s changed, Joe. I’ve been working with him for weeks and when we’ve chipped away at the pomp and bluster I’ve seen a regretful man coming to terms with his inadequacies. He’s been self-medicating with alcohol and has cut himself off from everyone, so he doesn’t appear weak and lost. Actually, I think the character he created inCancelledwas an antidote to the shame that’s built up inside him. He’s far from perfect and I understand why he rubs you up the wrong way, but he’s talked to me about your mum, and I think he genuinely regrets how he treated her and wants to build bridges with you.’
Joe listens intently. Then he folds his arms. ‘He’ll do anything you say? Anything for the chance to explain?’ He thinks some more. ‘Right then, I might just spin this one out, make him sweat.’ He grins at me. ‘I don’t think you charge him enough, Daisy. Fancy milking this rich, selfish prick out of some of his cash? Let’s have a twenty-four-hour romance with his American Express card together, shall we? Call it compensation for my difficult childhood. We’ll start by borrowing the ’rari, or whatever mid-life crisis car he’s currently driving. Take it for a spin in a spa town. Grab a his-and-hers massage and nice dinner out. Champagne on tap. Then I might begin the conversation. Up for it?’
I think for a moment and then nod. What’s not to like about a run into the countryside? Especially if it moves their relationship on.
‘Make the call,’ he says. ‘I’m free tomorrow after I close up. I’ll collect the key from him then.’
Chapter 24
‘I’m outside your front door. It wouldn’t be wise to leave this car unattended.’
‘Why?’
‘You’ll see.’
I smile and grab my bag. I’ve been looking forward to this since sealing the deal. Checking I have my front door key, I stand on my doorstep, fully appreciating the gorgeous apparition in front of me.
The Ferrari’s nice too.
More than nice. Dazzling. A total eyesore in a neighbourhood where residents rent out their drives to pay the bills.
As Joe winds down the window, I check my sunglasses are on my head. ‘Can you please open the boot for me?’
He declines. ‘There’s only space for one bag. One very small bag. You’ll have to put that on your knee. Come on, we need to go before a traffic warden slaps us with a ticket.’
Tentatively putting a foot into the car, I have to bend my whole body to squash the rest of me in. ‘When did he get this and why does he keep it hidden?’
‘He’s had it for years. A variety on the theme anyway. He’d probably drive something even more expensive if he was back in the States.’
‘A Pagani probably,’ I say, wanting to take it back when I realise I’ve just broken client confidentiality.
‘He used to buy brand new cars and change them when he got bored, by which point they’d lost half of their value. Such a waste of money,’ says Joe, starting the car again. ‘We have this beauty for a whole day. I promised I’d bring it back by midnight.’
Joe seems relaxed, dressed in dark green chinos and a bottle green polo neck. Pushing aviator sunglasses onto his eyes like a stretched-out version of Tom Cruise, he drives out of my street and onto the main road. The car thrums louder than a generator at a garden fete as I place my bag on my knee with my insulated cup on top.
‘How on earth does Vince fit? We might as well be sitting on the floor.’ I can’t see out of the back window and am tempted to prop my chest on the dashboard to give my stomach a bit more room.
When I look around for somewhere to put my cup, Joe shakes his head. ‘People don’t eat or drink in cars like this.’
