‘I don’t think she has the first clue as to what she might have unleashed,’ says Kate bitterly.
‘Woah, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,’ says Matt, holding his hands up. ‘This girl might be exactly who she says she is. And if that’s the case, it’s not exactly going to be rocket science to work out who’s child she is.’
Kate bites down on her lip. If only it were that simple.
‘But then again, maybe Lauren knows something you and I don’t?’
Kate’s hackles rise. ‘Like what?’
‘I just think she might know more than she’s letting on . . . about your dad, I mean.’
Kate had had a lifetime of defending her father to Lauren, but she didn’t ever envisage having to do it to Matt, who had so often teamed up with Harry whenever a family debate had ramped up unexpectedly. They had a middle-class background in common, both erred slightly to the right on the political spectrum and shared a love of football that was only eclipsed by their love for her.
As was always the case in the Alexander household, as soon as talk turned to politics, the gloves were off and it became a free-for-all. To an outsider looking in, it might have seemed stacked against Simon, but for everyone there, it was deemed good banter. Everyone that is, except Lauren, who would often end up in the kitchen crying over the Yorkshire puddings.
‘Why does Dad always have to do this?’ she’d sobbed one Sunday. ‘He winds Simon up just to get to me.’
‘Oh, don’t be ridiculous,’ Kate had said, coming to their father’s defence. ‘Why do you always think it’s about you?’
‘Because it always has been,’ said Lauren. ‘I can do no right in his eyes and now he’s just using Simon to get to me.’
‘Listen to yourself,’ said Kate. ‘You’re almost forty years old. Whatever you have against Dad, don’t you think it’s time to let bygones be bygones?’
‘Just leave it, Kate,’ their mother had warned. ‘Now, can we all please be civil to each other? It’s surely not too much to ask.’
The sisters had sulkily picked up a bowl of vegetables each and gone into the dining room, where the talk had turned to who was going to win the X Factor final, with all three men agreeing with each other.
Kate hadn’t been able to resist looking at Lauren and raising her eyebrows, as if to say, See, it’s not always about you. Now, it seems, Matt’s suggesting it might be.
‘Are you saying that Lauren might know something about Dad that I don’t?’ A heat is beginning to creep up Kate’s neck and muffle the sound in her ears.
Matt holds his hands up. ‘I just think you should stay open-minded, that’s all.’
Kate looks at him, her thoughts too rushed to be able to make sense of anything.
‘It might be that Lauren isn’t as surprised by Jess’s appearance as she’s making out,’ he offers, non-committally. ‘Maybe she already knew she existed, because it seems odd that she’d just accept a stranger as her sister as easily as she seems to have.’
‘She’s not my father’s daughter,’ says Kate bluntly.
‘Well, then you’re going to need to find out exactly what grounds that theory is based on,’ says Matt. ‘Because DNA doesn’t lie.’
‘Oh, don’t you worry,’ says Kate. ‘I’ll get to the bottom of it.’
‘Okay,’ says Matt. ‘But if you’re going to dig around, be careful.’
‘Of what?’
‘You might discover something you don’t want to find.’
13
Lauren
‘You smell of smoke,’ says Simon, leaning in to kiss Lauren’s cheek as she walks through the door.
She’d not had a cigarette for years, not since she was nineteen, but then she’d not seen Justin in all that time either and, ashamed as she is to admit it, a smoke was what was needed to calm her down.
Both children were mercifully asleep by the time she’d got back to the car and she’d driven around the block before heading back to the same petrol station to buy a pack of ten Marlboro. When the man behind the counter informed her that tens had been banned since 2017, she’d coughed awkwardly, asked for a pack of twenty and some chewing gum, and almost run out of the door, half expecting him to run after her. She’d felt like a teenager again as she inhaled her first drag, pulling it in deep to calm her nerves. Her heart had pumped blood around her body far quicker than was normal and every breath felt lodged in her chest, as if in anticipation of what might happen if she let it out. She didn’t want to admit it, but as uncomfortable as the sensation was, it had made her feel alive. Seeing Simon’s car parked up outside the house had sapped that feeling away again.
‘Do I?’ she says, recoiling from him.
‘Where have you been?’ he asks, as if the answer means nothing to him, yet she can tell by his demeanour that what she says next will dictate the atmosphere for the rest of the day.
‘Only over to Mum’s,’ she says as ambivalently as she can. She lifts her shirt to her nose and sniffs for effect. ‘Oh, but I did just stop off for petrol and there was a guy there smoking.’ As soon as the words are out of her mouth, she realizes how stupid they are.
If she was brave enough to look at him, she’d notice that his eyes have narrowed. ‘In a petrol station?’
‘No,’ she says, far too quickly. ‘I meant in the hand car wash next door.’
‘So, you got the car cleaned?’
It feels like she’s on the witness stand, facing a judge and jury. ‘Er, no, we waited in the queue for a while but gave up – it was taking too long.’
‘You shouldn’t take the
