Page 55 of A Clean Sweep

‘That is one of the funniest things I’ve heard in ages.

’ Sophie was shaking her head in disbelief but with what looked suspiciously like a large grin breaking across her previously inscrutable face.

‘Seriously, my life’s not been a bundle of laughs recently but the thought of you tailing Dad like that …

and all because of a step counter thingy.

It’s like something out of a TV show. I know!

Jessica whatsername, that amateur detective who outwitted the authorities and always caught the bad guy.

Mum used to watch it when I was little.’ Mention of her mum shrank the edges off her grin.

Clearly mother-daughter relationships were far from harmonious, no doubt due to Sophie's newfound cosiness with Michael.

'Murder, She Wrote . I watched a few episodes myself back in the day.

' Much as she admired Angela Lansbury as an actress, Celeste had always thought the number of dead bodies uncovered in a relatively small community defied belief.

Unless Jessica herself was the killer. Hmm …

As long as Sophie wasn't harbouring a secret desire to bump her off.

She didn't look like a cold-blooded killer but who knew? At least she hadn’t nipped off to the loo, leaving the way open for Sophie to lace her soup with weed killer.

Which was in plentiful supply here, although disposing of a body during the lunchtime rush might prove a little challenging.

Sensing a slight lightening in the tension between them – murderous tendencies notwithstanding – Celeste decided it was time to share another little secret with Sophie.

Her success as a writer. She still hadn’t been able to raise the subject with Michael.

The interview and photo session were scheduled in two days’ time.

A Tea Break writer and photographer would turn up on her doorstep, expecting Astra Du Bois in all her overblown glory.

Waxing lyrical about Leo and Seraphina and carefully concealing her disappointment about not being the rightful victor.

She’d read the winning story and been singularly unimpressed.

The sex scenes – in her humble opinion – were far too restrained.

Definitely pre-waterworks or whatever they called it.

More flannelette nighties and pyjamas than togas and eye-watering contortions.

She wasn’t quite sure where it had all come from – she and Michael were quite traditional in their routines – but she was proud of what she’d written.

What she lacked in real-life experience, she more than compensated for in fictitious filthiness.

‘You’ve written a book? Seriously? Oh, my God. Celeste, you are revealing hidden depths I never imagined. Honestly, I thought you made puddles look shallow.’

Celeste tried not to look offended at that little barb.

She knew she wasn’t particularly intellectual or well-read but at least she’d given the writing a go and achieved some modicum of success.

OK, Tea Break wasn’t exactly The Times Literary Supplement .

Last week’s issue had featured articles on removing nasal hair and unblocking sinks but it had its faithful followers.

Still, at least her revelation had lightened the mood which could only be a good thing.

Sophie now looked less like a person with bowel issues and more the rather pretty young woman she clearly was.

She could see now the likeness to Michael.

Not so much the physical one she’d noted that awful day but more of a similar sparkle in the eyes when they laughed.

The way Sophie crinkled up her nose when she was thinking.

And they both appeared to share the habit of dissecting their food.

It drove her mad when Michael would push his food around the plate, dividing it into individual mounds of ingredients.

Sophie was now nibbling a piece of salmon, the bread reduced to virtual crumbs.

‘Nice salmon. Much better than that over-dyed and flabby stuff you get in the supermarket. I wonder where they source it from?’ She licked her fingers enthusiastically before wiping them clean on her napkin.

‘We can always ask the nice waitress, I suppose,’ replied Celeste.

Not that she gave a stuff where the fish came from.

It tasted just the same as any to her, not that she was a particular fan of anything that came out of the sea.

Peeling prawns made her feel sick and the very idea of tipping a raw oyster down her throat …

‘So, does Dad know about your foray into the writing world? He hasn’t mentioned it to me, but then you’re not exactly our main topic of conversation.

Sorry, don’t mean to be rude, just stating facts.

’ Sophie polished off the last gleaming slice of salmon and gazed guilelessly at Celeste.

Face of an angel, ability to wither with a well-chosen word worthy of Jeremy Paxman in full flow.

Just smile, Celeste, keep smiling and – most importantly – keep the conversation going.

‘No, he doesn’t know and I’m not sure when – or if – I’m going to tell him.

We haven’t really been communicating much in the past week.

Although, I suppose I’ll have to say something if a bloody journalist and photographer turn up on the doorstep.

Unless I pretend they’re doing a feature on cold-hearted cows who keep fathers and daughters apart.

Come to think of it, they did do something similar in the past. Except it was about fathers who’d scarpered then turned up years later when their offspring became famous or won the lottery. ’

Sophie was signalling to the rather flustered waitress, currently dealing with a group of elderly women all fiddling gamely with their hearing aids .

‘Thought we’d have a coffee. What do you fancy, Celeste?’

Although she – thank God – didn’t need a hearing aid herself, Celeste wondered for a moment if she’d heard correctly. Did Sophie just address her by her name ? And in an almost friendly way, as opposed to spitting it out like an unwanted fish bone.

‘Hi again.’ Sophie smiled at the waitress, who was now clearing away their plates. ‘Can I get a soy milk cappuccino and …’ She looked expectantly at Celeste.

‘Erm, I’ll have a regular coffee, please. With cow’s milk.’

Before the waitress could depart, Sophie quizzed her on the provenance of the salmon which was apparently wild – was it normally tame, wondered Celeste?

– and lovingly oak-smoked to perfection somewhere in Sussex.

Sophie eagerly keyed the details into her phone, clearly intent on stocking up herself.

Job done, she settled back in her chair.

‘I gave up meat and most dairy products a couple of years ago,’ she informed Celeste. ‘I’m a pescatarian, actually.’

Celeste wasn’t quite sure how to respond. Ah, well. If Sophie was now divulging personal information she had better join in.

‘Interesting. I’m a Leo which accounts for a lot but—'

Right, she might have hoped for a thaw in relations between them but having Sophie howling in mirth yet again was a little disconcerting.

She had no idea what was so amusing about comparing star signs but Sophie’s reaction would have delighted any stand-up comedian.

She waited – a little grumpily – for her one-woman audience to stop thumping the table which was attracting attention from other customers.

Finally, Sophie resumed her composure, just as their hot drinks arrived.

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh like that. It’s just … well, never mind.’ Before she could finish, her phone began to ring. She squinted at the screen, frowned, then picked it up .

‘Hi. Dad. How’s things? Yes, I’m fine. What’s that?

No, he’s fine too. It was just a touch of the cold.

He’s back at school now. Yes, George is OK.

Just a little miffed he didn’t get two days in bed and had to do his spelling homework while his brother watched telly.

I’m heading back to pick them up soon because Angie,’ – the childminder – she mouthed to an anxious Celeste – ‘has a doctor’s appointment.

Yes, it looks like the settlement will be made any day now so that’s good news.

It’s taken the miserable bastard long enough. ’

Sophie hesitated, her nose crinkled in true Michael fashion. Celeste swirled her spoon around in her coffee, her nerves jangling like wind chimes in a breeze. What would Michael think if he knew who was sitting opposite his daughter? What would he do , more to the point?

‘Where am I now? Well, believe it or not, I’m having lunch with Celeste. No, Dad, I’m not joking. She called me up and we agreed to meet and … here we are.’

Another pause. Celeste lifted the cup to her mouth then put it down, her hands shaking too much.

‘It’s OK, Dad. Honestly. I didn’t have high expectations’ – Sophie gave a half-smile/half grimace in Celeste’s direction – ‘but we’ve survived. Even had a few laughs. Dad, are you still there?’

Celeste pictured Michael’s usually gentle and kindly face contorted with fury and disbelief that she – the viper in the nest – had attempted to worm her way into Sophie’s affections. Any faint hope of reconciliation shrivelled up inside her. It was over. Except—

‘Sure, she’s right here. I’ll just pass you over. Hang on.’

Sophie held her phone out to Celeste. Celeste eyed it with all the enthusiasm of a toddler being offered a spoonful of cough syrup. Hands still a-tremble, she tentatively took it and raised it to her ear .

‘H…hello? Michael?’ She waited, certain his words would be cold and dismissive.

‘Celeste? You’re really there? With Sophie? Sorry, stupid remark, of course you are. It’s just … I didn’t expect … oh, darling, I’m so, so sorry.’

As Michael’s achingly familiar voice came down the line, Celeste felt a warm tingle spread from her head to her toes. He was speaking to her, really speaking to her. But – wait a minute – had he just apologised ?

‘I’ve been a complete idiot. Blaming you for everything and letting Sophie do the same.

The real bad guy in all this was me, not having the courage to keep in contact all those years.

Just burying my head in the sand and convincing myself that all I needed was you.

And I do need you, Celeste. I’ve missed you so much these past days but I just needed some time to sort my head out. ’

‘But, Michael, I went out my way to keep you to myself. You know that. I’m so ashamed of myself but I can’t turn back time.

If only I could. I called Sophie because I wanted to try and make amends.

’ She glanced at Sophie, who merely nodded.

The unreadable look was back, but minus the edge of hostility.

‘I don’t think I’ve done a very good job of apologising so far but I’ll keep trying.

For all our sakes.’ Celeste halted, unsure what to say next and still reeling at Michael’s contriteness.

Did she deserve it? Or was it truly the case that they shared the blame, neither willing to shatter their tranquil little existence?

They were all suffering the consequences now, but no one more so than Sophie and her boys.

But … maybe, just maybe , there was a glimmer of hope for some kind of resolution.

‘Listen, darling. I am so happy you and Sophie have met. And I promise I’ll talk to her properly now, explain that I take responsibility for my own pathetic actions,’ continued Michael. ‘But, for now, can you just hurry home to me?’

Saying her goodbyes, Celeste handed the phone back to Sophie who was now signalling to the waitress for the bill. She pulled out her own purse and shooed away Sophie’s attempt to place a bundle of notes on the table.

‘This one’s on me. I’m just glad we got together and … let’s just see what the future brings. But I would like to see you – and the boys – again. Please?’

As the waitress reappeared with the bill, Sophie stood up and shrugged on her coat. She hesitated for the briefest moment before shuffling around the table and giving Celeste a quick hug. Celeste felt as if she’d just won the Nobel Prize for Literature.

‘I think we can arrange that. And, by the way, make sure you tell my dad about your writing. If you don’t, I will!’ said Sophie with what could only be construed as a proper, from-the-heart, smile.

Counting out the change, the waitress looked between Celeste and Sophie. Thanking them for the generous tip, she turned to leave then turned back again.

‘You know, it’s so lovely to see a mother and daughter out having a nice lunch together.

I saw the pair of you laughing away earlier and it proper made me happy.

Me and my mum just don’t get on. She thinks I should have gone to uni, got myself a degree, instead of working in a café.

But I like what I do and one day I’ll open my own place. Anyway, have a good day.’

As she zoomed off to the next table, Sophie looked at Celeste. Celeste felt the corners of her mouth twitching. Then they both burst into peals of uncontrolled laughter, vaguely bordering on hysterics.