Shopaholic and Sister

She breaks off, flustered, and takes a gulp of coffee.

“And in some ways…” Mum pauses, stirring her drink, with a rueful smile. “In some ways it was to be expected. Graham was quite the Don Juan when he was younger. It’s no wonder he found women throwing themselves at him.”

“That’s… right,” Janice says doubtfully.

Dad? Don Juan?

I try to picture him standing at some glamorous bar, with his seventies mustache and a wide, patterned tie, surrounded by gorgeous women drinking martinis. Then my gaze drifts out the window to see him coming over the lawn, toward the back door. His graying hair is all tousled, his face is red, and even though I’ve told him a million times not to, he’s wearing socks inside his sandals.

“Women could never resist him,” says Mum. “That’s the truth of it.” She brightens a little. “But we’re having therapy to help us through the crisis. At the new holistic health center in Wood Street.”

“Therapy?” I echo in astonishment. “Are you serious?”

“Absolutely!” says Dad, coming in at the back door. “We’ve had three sessions already.”

“She’s a very nice girl, our therapist,” says Mum. “Although a bit nervy. Like all these young people.”

Wow. I had no idea Mum and Dad were having therapy. But it makes sense. I mean, bloody hell. How would I feel if Luke suddenly announced he had a long-lost daughter?

“Therapy!” Janice is saying. “I can hardly believe it!”

“We have to be realistic, Janice,” says Mum. “You can’t expect this kind of revelation to have no repercussions.”

“A discovery of this scale can tear a family apart,” agrees Dad, popping a hazelnut whirl into his mouth. “It can rock the very foundations of a marriage.”

“Goodness.” Janice claps a hand over her mouth, looking from Mum to Dad and back with wide eyes. “What… what sort of repercussions are you expecting?”

“There’ll be anger, I expect,” Mum says knowledgeably. “Recriminations. Coffee, Graham?”

“Yes, thanks, love.” He beams at her.

“Therapy is a pile of crap,” says Tom suddenly. “I tried it with Lucy.”

We all turn and look at him. He’s holding a cup of coffee in both hands and glowering at us over the top of it.

“The therapist was a woman,” he adds, as though that explains everything.

“I think they often are, love,” Mum says cautiously.

“She took Lucy’s side. She said she could understand her frustrations.” Tom’s hands clench more tightly round his cup. “What about my frustrations? Lucy was supposed to be my wife! But she wasn’t interested in any of my projects. Not the conservatory, not the en suite bathroom—”

“I love your summerhouse, Tom!” I cut in quickly. “It’s very… big!”

In fact, it’s monstrous. I nearly died when I saw it out the window this morning. It’s three stories high, with gables and a deck.

“We’re just a bit worried about the planning regulations, aren’t we?” says Janice, nervously glancing at Tom. “We’re worried it might be classed as a residence.”

“Well, it’s a real achievement!” I say encouragingly. “To build something like that!”

“I enjoy working with wood,” Tom says in a gruff voice. “Wood doesn’t let you down.” He drains his cup. “In fact, I’d better get back to it. Hope it all goes well.”

As the back door closes behind him there’s an awkward silence.

“He wants to make a boat next,” says Janice, looking strained. “A boat, on the lawn!”

“Janice, have another coffee,” Mum says soothingly. “Shall I put a splash of sherry in it?”

Janice looks torn.

“Better not,” she says at last. “Not before twelve.”

She rootles in her handbag and produces a little pill, which she pops into her mouth. Then she zips up her bag again and smiles brightly. “So! What does Jessica look like?”

“She’s… she’s nice-looking,” begins Mum. “Isn’t she, Graham?”

“Very nice-looking!” says Dad. “Tall… slim…”

“Dark hair,” adds Mum. “Quite a reserved girl, if you know what I mean.”

I’m listening avidly as they describe her. Although I glimpsed her in the street that day we got back, the sunlight was so bright and I was so distracted by Mum and Dad’s weird behavior, I only got a vague impression. So all week I’ve been trying to build on that image. Mum and Dad keep saying how tall and slim she is, so I’ve kind of pictured her like Courteney Cox. All willowy and elegant, in a white silk trouser suit, maybe.