Chapter 17: Breakfast

“The spare bed’s made up,” said June as she walked down the corridor with Lara’s arm round her waist. They looked in on Mark but he was asleep, in spite of everything. They did their teeth and June slid into bed next to Lara.

She stroked her fingertips over Lara’s shoulder and back, and Lara snuggled in.

“He won’t really kick us out, will he?” asked Lara.

“I don’t think so,” smiled June. “He’ll have calmed down in the morning. He’s used to everyone being intimidated, not poking him in the eye and telling him he’s repressed.”

“He called me the daughter from hell.”

June gave Lara a squeeze. “Well you are, for a father who’s repressed. Anyway you started with the name-calling didn’t you?”

“Perhaps,” Lara raised a little smile. “Who’s Lara Borgia?”

“The Borgias were a family in Italy hundreds of years ago. One of them was Pope but they were known for orgies and poisonings.”

“Oh.”

“It was a kind of joke, exaggerating.”

“Oh. I suppose. I just...”

“What?”

“I’m just ... uh ... I’m afraid if he finds out I’m not really his.”

“He does love you, whatever the performance tonight, and that wouldn’t change. You wouldn’t believe how proud he is of you.”

“He never says that.”

“That’s just men, and families. I know he is because he’s always talking about you, and it’s why he’s so protective.”

“Isn’t some of that cos he thinks I have his genes?”

“He still raised you, helped form your values and how you are. And he just reacts to you, like everyone.”

“I don’t think he’s too keen on my values though.”

“It’s the values of being independent and having a purpose.”

“Won’t he feel weird though, that I’m someone else’s?”

“We can tell him if you like, then you’ll see, rather than worry about it.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll just have to explain, how it was, and that I chose him and I’m still glad I chose him.”

“Okay ... can we sleep on it?”

“Mmmm.” June put her arm over Lara and stroked her hair. This wasn’t exactly the ideal time to tell Tony about Michael; but then, there never would be an ideal time.

“So we’re all here finally,” growled Tony as Mark came into the kitchen the next morning. Everyone else was sitting tensely round the table with the remains of breakfast.

“Sorry,” said Mark, taking his seat.

“So you spent six weeks keeping me away while you all betrayed me,” Tony looked grimly round the table, “in every possible combination apart from - I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt - you two,” he looked at Sean and Freddie, “with Mark. SHUT UP!” he silenced them as they made to speak. “You knew I wouldn’t like it, but you did it anyway. So you can all carry on.”

He paused. “But not here. You’ve got your houses back,” he looked at the twins again, “assuming you can pay off your divorce settlements without selling, so you can go back, and take your fellow traitors with you. I wash my hands of the lot of you, and we’ll see about our own divorce.” He looked at June who gasped. “Mark you can choose where you want to be, on the basis that you were entitled to be led the right way by your mother not the wrong way.”

“Don’t be stupid Dad,” said Lara, who was sitting opposite him. “What would you have chosen when you were fifteen? Sex with me and Mum, or no sex? So he’ll choose us, or want to which you’ll be able to tell, and then you’ll be hurt and feeling more betrayed than ever when it’s just you making it that way.”

“I might have bloody known you’d have something to say!” Tony’s voice was rising.

“Of course I have something to say. Do you wish I was a dummy who can’t see obvious stuff like that?”

“I wish you knew how to behave!”

“I do know how to behave. Who’s had more fun this summer, you or me?”

“There’s more to life than fun.”

“Like what? I got good grades, I’m doing the subjects I want this term, and I’ve learned all kinds of great things about sailing and relationships.”

“About sex you mean,” Tony was leaning across the table wagging a big finger, “and how to be a complete slut!”

“Don’t call me a slut!”

“Slut! That’s what you deserve to be called!”

Lara stood up in a fury that had suddenly overtaken even Tony’s. She grabbed the jug of orange juice, still half full, and threw it over him. While Tony reeled back she followed it with the bowl of sugar and her mug of tea, which bounced off his chin but luckily was nearly empty and cool. She had a throwing arm. “I fucking HATE that!” she screamed at him, “Boys don’t get that do they? Only girls!”