Chapter 3

Everyone froze. Paul was shocked. He had hardly ever heard his father swear before. His mother too, he saw, was equally shocked.

As for Kayla and her mother, they stood still, their mouths open. Anthony, on the other hand, took a close look at Paul's dad, took a couple of steps back and shouted: "You! Don't you dare speak to me like that, you son of a —"

"Anthony!!!" That was Catherine, his wife, who suddenly snapped out of her trance and moved to her husband's side, reaching out to grab his hand, as if fearing he might do something rash.

Paul's mother too moved forward to stand by her husband. Paul and Kayla, on the other hand, were still standing back behind her parents. But now Paul stepped forward to stand between the two men. He looked from his father to Anthony and back. He was still shocked, but he needed to understand what the hell was going on. He turned to his dad.

"Dad, what's going on?"

"Stay out of this Paul." Charles was curt with Paul, another thing that occurred on very rare occasions. Then he turned to Anthony. "As for you, you slimebag, I want you and your family off our property within two minutes, or I will call the cops."

"Dad..." Paul tried to put in.

His father, however, cut him short. "Paul, not now. I told you to stay out of this."

And with that, he turned to go back into the house.

But Paul was having none of it anymore. "Like hell, Dad!"

Charles turned angrily towards Paul, but when he saw the look on his son's face, he stopped short. Then Paul continued.

"Dad, it's obvious you and Mr Richardson know each other, and it's also obvious there's no love lost between the two of you. However, they are my guests here, and I will not accept anyone to treat them the way you are doing. And if it were anyone else, you would be saying the same thing, dad, so don't dare get angry."

Charles was astounded. Not that Paul had actually stood up to him. They had always brought up their children to speak their mind. What astounded him was that he was doing it in front of strangers.

Then Elisabeth stepped in. "Paul's right, Charles. We should invite Kayla and her parents in. They are his guests, after all. And besides, I want to hear this story too," she said with the hint of a grin.

Catherine Richardson flashed a grateful smile at Paul's mother. Charles looked at his wife, raised an eyebrow, then sighed heavily.

"Very well," he said. "Let's all go inside and have a little chat. You and Paul deserve to hear it. But at the end, you will be asking them to leave yourself. So don't say I did not warn you."

And this time, when he turned and walked into a house, no one stopped him. Instead, they all followed quietly, with Paul allowing the Richardons to enter before him. As Kayla passed him, she gave him a confused look, but he just shrugged and followed her inside.

They all stepped into the Davenport's living room. Charles and Elisabeth sat down on a sofa, while Anthony and Catherine sat opposite them on another sofa. Paul and Kayla each chose an armchair and sat down. Everyone waited expectantly for someone to say something, and Charles realised he would have to break the ice.

"Well, you were right, Paul. I do know Anthony Richardson. I know him well." He looked at his son and wife as he said this, then continued. "Twenty two years ago, just before I met you, in fact, Liz, a friend of mine died in a traffic accident. His name was Ian and he was my best friend. More like a brother, actually. Well one fine day, while crossing the street, he was run over by a bastard. He died on the spot. Ian had only been married a year and a half and he and his wife had a three month old baby. The driver did not face any charges, because he managed to convince the cops that he was only doing 40 and that Ian had ignored the traffic lights."

Paul was amazed to see his father's eyes twinkling. Were those tears in his dad's eyes? Damn, it must hurt him to remember his friend's death like this.

Charles took a deep breath then went on. "It took me months to get over Ian's death. I was only 21 back then and we had plans to go into business together. I vowed to find the man who killed Ian and that I would get back at him. And over the years, I've kept track of that man. He's a businessman now too and I'm always trying to find ways to sidetrack him, to hinder his business and to steal business away from him. I know it's not nice of me, and that it goes against everything I'm always advocating, but where this man is concerned, I'm not a rational man."

Elisabeth took her husband's hand in hers and squeezed gently. Catherine was looking at her husband strangely, Paul noted. Then Kayla spoke up.

"Mr Davenport, I can understand your pain. And I can understand that you would react in such a manner after your friend passed away. But..." and here she looked around at everyone, "what does this have to do with us? With my dad?"

Paul looked at her. "Do you really not understand, Kay?"

"What do you mean?" she answered, still with a vague look on her face.

Her father leaned towards her. "Kayla, Charles is angry with me, because, you see... that driver... the one who ran over Ian..." But he could not go on.

Kayla's eyes suddenly went wide. "You mean, you were the driver that killed Ian?"

Both Charles and Anthony cringed at Kayla's words. But she seemed oblivious to everything. "Oh my God! Dad!". And she covered her mouth with her hands, as her wide eyes kept staring at her dad, as if seeing him for the first time.

"Kayla, I..." Anthony wanted to explain to his daughter what he was feeling. But Elisabeth interrupted him.

"Anthony, just a minute, please. I think we all need a drink first, before we talk more about this. Because we are going to talk about this. And no one is going to get angry or mean." Saying this, she was giving her husband such a stern look that Charles knew that there was no way he would get to chuck Anthony out of his house tonight.

Elisabeth rang a bell on a side table and after a moment Elsa came into the room.

"Elsa, would you bring us all something to drink, please? Something with some punch in it, even the children. We all need it right now."

"I will be right back, Mrs Davenport." Elsa was intrigued about what was happening. It was not often Mrs Davenport encouraged her son to drink, especially when they had company, although she knew that Paul and his dad often had a late night drink in his dad's study. The Davenports had always believed that they should not be tyrants when raising their children, opting instead for a steady consistency, and instilling their children with a sense of responsibility that was hard to come by in children these days. And they sure didn't think that their children having a drink was a crime, even 14-year-old Paul. And Elsa was also sure that when Mrs Davenport —Elisabeth — was comfortable, she would tell her everything, as she often did.

Elsa returned to the living room in only a few minutes, bearing a tray with six glasses containing a cocktail she had learned how to do when she was young. She noticed that everyone was quiet in the living room, lost in their own thoughts. She handed a glass to each of them, leaving Paul for last. She saw that he was troubled and wished she could help him. As she handed him a glass, Paul looked up at her and smiled.

"Thanks Elsa, you're an angel. By the way, I need to speak to you later about your nephew's problem. I think I might have thought of a solution."

Elsa was moved that even in this obviously strained moment, Paul would remember that she had asked him to help her nephew, who had been having some trouble at school. She had not doubted that Paul would help. He always did. She gave him a radiant smile.

"Don't you worry about any of that for now Paul. We'll talk later. There's no hurry" She squeezed his shoulder and hurried out of the room.

They all sipped their drinks, immersed in their own thoughts. Then Catherine out her glass down on the coffee table and sat up straighter in the sofa. She looked Charles directly in the eyes, as if to make sure he understood every word she was about to say.

"Charles, I know how you feel about the loss of your friend. Believe me, I really do. And so does Anthony. There is something you should know. I was with Anthony in the car that day. We had just started dating and we were on our way to his parents' house. Whatever you may think, or whatever you want to believe, Anthony did not run that red light that day. There was no red light. The traffic lights were on green. I know this for a fact. I also know that Anthony was not overspeeding. Ever since I met him, I always nag him that he drives too slowly, way below the speed limit."