‘Not for a second. And if you call me that again I’ll throw you back onto the street myself.’
‘I’m sorry. Lilith.’ My father said the name as though it were a profanity. He narrowed his eyes and I knew he was choosing his next words. He gave a nervous gulp of air as he worked up enough courage to explain his sudden reappearance. ‘You’ve, ah, heard of a Lady Albermarle?’ Under pressure, he returned to the same bumbling style he had adopted as an MP.
‘No. Why? Are you fucking her?’
He actually winced at my words. ‘There are times when you disgust me. And no, I’m not. Actually, she runs an exclusive island retreat -’
‘What, some ridiculous nursery for spoilt bastards exhausted from too much wealth and privilege? A couple of weeks of yoga and wheatgrass to recover from being a millionaire?’
‘Don’t be so bloody facetious,’ my father snapped, his Adam’s apple bobbing with nerves and irritation. ‘I’ve recently been a guest there myself.’
I widened my eyes. ‘Really? You never struck me as the joss-stick type.’
‘It’s nothing like that.’
Ten minutes of his malodorous presence and I was tired of him already. ‘Look, as delightful as this conversation about your holiday is, I’ve got a life I’d like to get on with. So why don’t you just tell me why the hell you’re here?’
‘Well if you insist on being so direct, I need a favour.’
‘For fuck’s sake. How much do you owe this time?’
‘It’s not a debt as such. There was a slight misunderstanding over my hospitality bill, that’s all.’
‘And this ‘misunderstanding’ – it wouldn’t be of the ‘left without paying’ variety, would it?’
‘I had every intention of settling my debts. There was some difficulty in processing my credit card.’
‘That’s because they only bloody work if there’s credit there,’ I snapped. ‘And I told you last time, I’m never bailing you out again.’
‘It’s a little more complicated than that on this occasion.’ My father’s cold, predatory smile returned. ‘I’ve got you some work.’
‘I don’t need work, for fuck’s sake. I’ve got a waiting list that could take five years to work through.’
‘You don’t understand. I’ve committed you to this, Lilith.’
I shivered. There was a sudden victorious look on my father’s face that I hadn’t seen in years. ‘Go on.’
‘Lady Albermarle has refused late payment. She’s decided that she would rather have a portrait by the notorious Lilith Bresson. Painted in situ at Albermarle Hall.’
‘Well golly fucking gosh how terribly delightful for her. Now get out.’
‘That’s enough.’ My father held up a hand that was prematurely stippled with liver spots. ‘You will let me finish.’
‘Or?’
‘I’ll be forced to adopt a more formal approach to a request that, to me, appears to be perfectly reasonable.’
‘Oh God, you talk such shit. And if I say no?’
This was his big moment. ‘I pull a few of my remaining strings and get this enforced.’ Like some third-rate magician he produced a letter from his jacket and handed it to me with a flourish. ‘And this, my beloved daughter, is a restraining order that bans you from setting foot within five miles of your half-brother. It cites your unreasonable, threatening and frankly unpredictable behaviour as a threat to the safety of a disabled, vulnerable child. I must say, after your ridiculous performance live on air, it was easy to find the necessary legal chaps to draft the thing.’
‘You bastard.’
This man, who had willingly abandoned his damaged, fragile wife and his tainted daughter, who had lied again and again and betrayed any value he had espoused in his inglorious political career, gloated whilst I read the litany of petty fabrications.
This man sat at my table and smiled, because he knew he had won. I sat opposite him and wished him dead as he feigned indifference to my fury.
‘Under the circumstances, Lady Albermarle has been extremely understanding. She appreciates that you must have commitments, loose ends so to speak, that need attending to.’ He picked up his vile document and slid it back into its envelope before tucking it into his breast pocket with a smug pat. ‘You have a week. Blaine expects you no later than nine, on the evening of June the third.’ He stood and brushed the fresh layer of scurf from his jacket. ‘Feel free to call at Foxrush for drinks once you’re finished, won’t you? I’m sure your stepmother will be delighted to see you.’