Page 112

‘You didn’t give me a chance to say anything else before you stormed off.’

‘All of you were right, though. I didn’t listen and it went wrong, and I hurt people.’

‘I don’t think we said that. We’re just trying to say that Holly might need more time, yeah? Some space to work things out. And losing her Mum can’t be easy.’

I nod against his chest, a tear escaping. ‘I know. But I care about her. Pretty sure I love her, and I should’ve been with her through that.’

He gives me a supportive squeeze.

I sit up and wipe my cheek. ‘How’d you know I was here anyway?’

‘I called Jazzy and she said you’d likely be moping about a gallery somewhere.’ He points to the canvas. ‘You’ve sulked over that plenty of times, so call it a lucky guess.’

‘You’re wasted in butchering, you. You want to move into detective work.’

He grins.

‘Where’s Mum and Chandice then?’ I ask.

‘Outside.’

‘They’re doing my head in.’

‘Mine and all,’ he says.

I laugh through my sniffles.

‘I gave them a talking-to on the tube after they ran after me.’ He gives my shoulder a nudge with his. ‘Since I’ve got the day off, how about the four of us go for lunch at that nice Caribbean place across the river you’ve taken me to before? The one that does the rum cocktails.’

I stare at the painting. ‘I s’pose.’

‘I can wander around if you need more time with Sappho and Erinna.’

‘I’m good. I can always come back.’

He pulls me close again and gives me another kiss on the temple. ‘It’ll work out, don’t you worry.’ Such a dad thing to say, but he’ll want to fix me, so I stay quiet and let him be my dad. ‘Come on,’ he says, helping me up and slipping his arm around me.

Outside, Mum and Chandice are leaning against the concrete pillar at the bottom of the steps.

As soon as Mum spots me, she holds her arms open for me. ‘I’m sorry, darlin’.’

‘You’re all right, Ma,’ I say, hugging her.

Chandice gives me a sheepish smile and a hug. ‘Sorry.’

I kiss her cheek. ‘Forget it.’

We head along Millbank, then cross Vauxhall Bridge. I can’t remember the last time we had a family outing like this. The mood is jovial and Mum stops in the middle of the bridge to snap a selfie of the four of us. Then she and Chandice have a spat over almost dropping Chandice’s phone into the Thames, which just makes Dad and me laugh.

Twenty minutes later, we’re seated outside at the restaurant. After we place an order for a massive feast of jerk wings, saltfish fritters, mutton curry, buns and rum cocktails, I force myself out my own head and focus on my family.

‘So,’ I say to Chandice. ‘What’s happening with this fella of yours, then?’

Chandice smiles coyly. ‘Going out tonight.’

‘You should see him,’ Mum says, picking up a napkin and waving it in front of her face. ‘He is something else.’

I laugh. ‘Jesus Christ, Mum.’