Page 96 of The Surrender

“So there’s three bars?” Dad asks.

“Four if you include the wine and champagne cellar.” Jude leads on, leaving me to follow with my parents, still praying this is over with fast. “Can I get you a drink?” Jude hands the cocktail menu to my mother as he directs Dad to a table in the corner by the fireplace.

“Oh, there’s a cocktail called the Amelia!” Mum sings, delighted. “I’ll have one of those.”

“It’s new. Inspired by your daughter.”

Mum’s hand slaps onto her chest. “Oh, Dennis, did you hear that?”

“I heard,” he says, lowering to a chair. “It’s a very extravagant place you have here, Mr. Harrison.”

Mr. Harrison?Give me strength.

“Please, call me Jude.” Jude looks at me discreetly, and I send a million silent apologies to him. I bet he’s regretting this. “Drink?”

“I’ll have a tonic water, please.”

“Coming up.” Jude doesn’t wave for service but rather goes to the bar to order with Clinton. He probably needs a break from them already.

I turn my eyes onto Dad, who does a damn fine job of avoiding my accusing glare. “What is this?” I ask, sending Mum into an instant fluster. “Showing up unannounced. What on earth were you expecting to find, Dad? Me chained in a cold, dank cellar mid-brainwash by the beast?”

“Now, now.” Mum smiles like an idiot. “He seems very lovely.”

“He is,” I say, eyes back on my father. “Verylovely.”

“He owns all this?” Dad motions toall this.

“Yes.”

“And this appeals to you?”

“What?”

“All this extravagance and money. It appeals to you?”

“What’s your point?”

“Well, you’ve always been so set on your independence, but I don’t see much independence being had when the man in your life is stinking rich.”

“Money means nothing to me.”

“And yet you want to be successful and make lots of it.”

I recoil, injured, and Mum reaches for my knee, rubbing as if trying to hold me down in my chair before I bounce off around the room in a temper. I can’t be dealing with this. I preferred him when he was a pigheaded old fool one hundred percent of the time rather than giving me glimmers of hope that he might pull his dinosaur head out of his arse and accept my choices.

“Do you think my desire for success hangs on making piles of money, Dad?” I ask, sitting forward in my chair. “Because it doesn’t. What success means to me is achievement. It means happiness and fulfilment. Self-worth.” I stand up. “And to prove to my prehistoric father that I’m bloody capable of running his precious family business with my younger brother.” I’m done. This was a terrible idea. I don’t know what I was thinking to hope he might change. He’s immovable. “You can see yourself out.” I dip and kiss my mum, feeling her clutch beggingly at my hand.

“Oh, don’t go, Amelia,” she implores. “Please, we’ve come all this way.”

“Just to shine his disapproval all over me. I’m not interested.” I pivot and go to Jude, who’s watching from the bar silently. “This was a waste of time,” I say, taking his hand. “We’re leaving.”

“But it’s my bar.”

I pause for thought. He’s right. I go back to my dad. “You can leave.”

“You’re throwing me out?”

“Yes, I’m throwing you out.”