Shopaholic to the Rescue

THIRTEEN

Oh my God. Why didn’t I know about Sedona before? Why did no one tell me? It’s breathtaking. It’s…indescribable.

Well, all right, not literally indescribable. You can describe it. You can say, There are these huge red sandstone rocks everywhere, jutting up from the desert, making you feel all tiny and insignificant. You can say, There’s a kind of rawness to the landscape which gives you goosebumps. You can say, There’s a solitary bird of prey hanging above us, high in the sky, which seems to put all of humankind into perspective.

You can say all that. But it’s not the same as being there.

“Look at—” I keep pointing, and Danny will chime in: “I know!”

“Oh my God! The—”

“I know. It’s awesome!”

For once, the anxiety has lessened in Suze’s face. Mum and Janice are staring out of the opposite window and exclaiming to each other too. In fact, everyone seems uplifted by the landscape.

We stayed another night in Wilderness in the end, because Luke said there was no point dashing off to Sedona that day and we all needed a decent night’s sleep. Suze spent about two hours Skyping her children back in L.A., and then Minnie and I joined in and we played “Skype charades,” which is actually a very good game. I know Suze is longing for home life. She’s desperately miserable and I don’t think she’s sleeping. She still hasn’t heard from Tarkie, or about this stupid tree, which seems really crap on the part of her parents and the head groundsman. I’ve actually been quite angry on her behalf. I mean, can’t one of them call her back?

Except, when I pressed her on it, she admitted that she’d only left super-casual messages, because she was paranoid that otherwise they’d guess it was all about her marriage. So they probably think they can leave it till she returns to the UK. Honestly.

And, meanwhile, she’s in a total state. I can practically see the worry cranking round her veins. She needs to know the answer now. Surely somebody could help—

Ooh. Wait a minute. I’ve had a sudden idea.

Surreptitiously, I fire off a quick email, hiding my phone under a magazine so Suze doesn’t ask what I’m doing. It’s a total long shot…but you never know. I press SEND, then put my phone away and focus again on the spectacular views.

Today we’ve been driving since the crack of dawn, which makes about five hours on the road, including a stop for early lunch. The sky has that very blue middle-of-the-day intensity, and I’m dying for a cup of tea.

Our destination is the High View Resort. According to the website, it has floor-to-ceiling red-rock views, plus it’s only moments away from the chic shops and galleries of uptown Sedona. But that’s not why we’re heading there. We’re heading there because the in-house meditation leader and new-age guide is—guess who? Rebecca Miades.

There’s even a head shot of her on the website, which I haven’t shown to Mum. Because it turns out that this Rebecca is very pretty, especially for a woman of her age. She has all this fantastic long hair, dyed pinky-red. And quite an intense sexy stare.

Not that it’s relevant whether she’s pretty or not. I mean, I’m sure Dad…I’m sure…

I don’t know quite where I’m going with this. Let’s just say, I don’t think Mum needs to see that photo.

Every time I look at Rebecca’s staring face, I feel a little internal Eek! I’d almost started to think this “Rebecca” didn’t exist—but here she is. Finally I’m going to find out what this is all about. And it’s about bloody time too. Honestly, not knowing stuff is totally exhausting. How do detectives do it? How do they stay sane? I keep wondering What if…and Could it be…and But surely…until my brain feels like it might explode.

“We’re here!” Luke interrupts my thoughts, and I look eagerly out of the RV. The hotel is set way back from the road, with palm trees lining the driveway. It’s only a few stories high and is constructed out of some sort of red stone, so it blends perfectly into the landscape.

“I’ll park the RV,” says Luke. “You go and check in. Find your anti-namesake.” He raises his eyebrows at me, and I grin back. I think he’s quite interested to meet this Rebecca too.

It takes a bit of time at the front desk to organize all the rooms, and in the end Suze takes over. Danny spies a poster for the “Restorative Spa Package” and instantly decides he’s going to do that, because apparently his muscles and nerves have been “shot” by all this traveling. (Obviously it’s the traveling, not the staying-up-all-night-in-Las-Vegas and drinking-bourbon-laced-iced-teas-at-the-fair, which is to blame.) Meanwhile, I’ve found a whole leaflet about Rebecca Miades. I withdraw to the corner of the lobby, curl up in a big wooden chair, and start reading it avidly.

We at the High View Resort are proud to have Rebecca Miades as our resident spiritual counselor and psychic reader. Rebecca began her psychic studies while a student in India and has trained at the Alara Institute of Mysticism. She is delighted now to be practicing in the spiritual power center of Sedona, where beneath the famed red rocks swirl age-old vortexes, energies, and mystic forces that strengthen and empower the soul.

Wow. I didn’t realize Sedona had age-old vortexes. Let alone mystic forces. I glance around the hotel lobby, half-hoping to see evidence of a mystic force, but all I can see is an old lady tapping at her iPad. Maybe you have to go outside.

Rebecca can offer sacred-vortex tours, intuitive counseling, healing, aura reading, celestial art, angel communication…

Angel communication? I blink at the leaflet. As in…angels? I’ve never even heard of that. Or celestial art, which I suppose might be drawings of stars. A wind-chimey-type sound draws my attention, and I see a young man with longish hair coming through a beaded curtain. A badge on his shirt reads SETH CONNOLLY, CUSTOMER WELFARE. He smiles at me in an open, friendly way and notices the leaflet I’m holding.

“Are you interested in our New Age Center?” he asks pleasantly. “Would you like me to direct you there?”

“Um, maybe,” I say. “I’m just reading about Rebecca Miades.”

“Oh, Rebecca.” His face creases into a smile. “She’s, like, my favorite person in the world.”

“Really?” I wasn’t expecting that. “Er…why? What’s she like?”

“She’s so sweet and good, you know what I mean? And her work is amazing,” he adds earnestly. “She really helps the guests find spiritual enlightenment. She’s a qualified angel-therapy practitioner, if you were interested in that? Or, she can do card readings, aura readings….”

“Perhaps. She looks really attractive,” I add, trying to prod him into further revelations. “That hair!”

“Oh, her hair is her glory.” He nods. “She colors it every year. Blue…red…green…We told her she should change her name to Rainbow!” He gives a boyish laugh.

“So, could I see her, do you think?” I try to sound casual. “Make an appointment or something?”

“Sure!” he says. “She’s based at the New Age Center. She’s been away, but she might be back by now. If you go that way, one of the spirit mentors will be able to help you. Through there”—he points at the bead curtain—“all the way through the seating area, and you’ll find the New Age Center in back.”

“OK. Well, maybe I’ll stroll along. Thanks.”

As Seth walks off, I glance furtively around the lobby. Mum, Minnie, and Janice are looking at a display of dream catchers. Suze is still talking to the woman at the front desk. Danny is following a lady in a white uniform toward the Spa Center.

I think I might pop along and see this Rebecca for myself. Just quietly. Just me. As I stand up, I feel a spasm of nerves and firmly tell myself off. There’s no need to be nervous. This is only some woman from Dad’s past. No big deal.

With a musical clatter of beads, I push my way through the curtain. I’m standing in a large, airy area furnished with sofas and chairs, in which a few people are sitting, reading newspapers and magazines. There are palms in pots, a huge skylight, and a sign reading NEW AGE CENTER, and I’m about to head in that direction when a pair of shoes suddenly catches my attention. They’re sticking out from a large wicker armchair—a pair of scuffed suede men’s loafers. I know those shoes—I know them. There’s an elbow on the arm of the chair too. A very, very familiar elbow, just a little more tanned than usual.

“Dad?” My voice rockets out of me before I can stop it. “Dad?”

The tanned elbow instantly jerks off the arm of the chair. The shoes move. The chair is pushed back with a scrape on the terra-cotta tiled floor. And the next moment I’m staring at Dad. Right here. In the flesh. My missing dad.

“Dad?” I almost yell again.

“Becky! Darling!” He seems as shell-shocked as I am. “What— How on earth— Who told you I was here?”

“No one! We’ve been looking for you! We’ve been tracking you! We’ve been— Do you realize—” My whirling thoughts won’t quite make it into words. “Dad, do you realize—”

Dad closes his eyes as though in disbelief. “Becky, I told you not to, I told you to go home—”

“We were worried about you, don’t you understand?” I yell. “We were worried!”

All sorts of emotions are pushing their way through me, like hot lava through a volcano. I’m not sure if I feel relieved or happy or furious or I want to scream. Tears are on my face, I suddenly realize, but I have no idea how they got here. “You just went off,” I say, breathing fast. “You left us.”

“Oh, Becky.” He holds out his arms. “Love. Come here.”

“No.” I shake my head furiously. “You can’t just…Do you know what a state Mum’s been in? Mum!” I scream. “Muuuuuum!”

A moment later there’s an almighty clatter of beads as Mum, Janice, and Minnie all pile through the curtain.

“GRAHAM?”

I have literally never heard anything so shrill as Mum’s voice. It’s like a train whistle. We all flinch, and I can hear more chairs scraping as people turn to watch.

As she approaches Dad, her eyes are sparking with fury and her nostrils are flared.

“Where have you BEEN?”

“Jane,” says Dad, looking alarmed. “Now, Jane, I told you I had a little errand—”

“Little errand? I thought you were DEAD!” She collapses into racking sobs, and Dad throws his arms around her.

“Jane,” he croons. “Jane, my love. Jane, don’t worry.”

“How can I not worry?” Mum’s head jerks back like a cobra’s. “How can I not worry? I’m your WIFE!” She swings her arm and slaps Dad across the cheek.

Oh my God. I’ve never seen Mum hit Dad before. I feel quite shocked. Thankfully, Minnie is playing with the beaded curtain, so I don’t think she saw anything.

“Um, Minnie,” I say hastily. “Grandpa and Grana need to…er…talk.”

“Don’t you ever, ever disappear again.” Now Mum is clinging to Dad, tears running down her face. “I thought I was a widow!”

“She did,” confirms Janice. “She was looking up her insurance policies.”

“A widow?” Dad gives a shout of incredulous laughter.

“Don’t you laugh at me, Graham Bloomwood!” Mum looks like she might wallop Dad again. “DON’T YOU DARE!”

“Come on, sweetheart.” I grab Minnie’s hand and push through the beaded curtain, my heart still thumping. A moment later, Janice joins me and we look at each other in disbelief.

“What’s up?” says Suze, turning from the front desk. “What’s your mum yelling about? She’s not on about the correct pronunciation of ‘scone’ again, is she?”

Mum once took Suze and me out to tea at a posh hotel and had an altercation with a member of staff about how to say “scone,” and Suze has never forgotten it.

“No,” I say, feeling almost hysterical. “She’s not. Suze, you will not believe this….”

—

It takes two large Arizona Breezes to calm me down. (Gin, cranberry juice, grapefruit juice—delicious.) So God knows how many drinks Mum will need. Dad’s here. We’ve found him. After all our searching, all our angst…he was just calmly sitting in an armchair, reading the paper. I mean…what?

I can barely sit still. All I want to do is go back into that seating area and quiz Dad relentlessly, till I understand everything: every single tiny little thing. But Suze won’t let me.

“Your mum and dad need space,” she keeps saying. “Let them alone. Give them time. Be patient.”

She won’t even let me creep past them to go and check out the famous Rebecca. Nor has she run in to demand news of Tarkie. So we’ve all come outside onto the front veranda of the hotel and are sitting on wicker chairs, swiveling round sharply whenever we hear a sound. I say “all,” but, actually, Luke has gone off to the business center to catch up on his emails. The rest of us are sitting here, though, feeling like life has been put on hold while we wait. It’s been half an hour, at least—

And then suddenly there they are, swooshing back through the beaded curtain. Mum looks like she’s run a marathon, while Dad seems startled to see the assembled group and flinches as everyone starts exclaiming, “Graham!” and “Where’ve you been?” and “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” he keeps saying. “Ah, yes. I’m fine, we’re all fine….Goodness! I had no idea….Well, here we are, anyway. Would anyone like a snack? Drink? Ah…shall we order something?” He seems pretty flustered. Which is also unlike Dad.

When we’re all seated with drinks and snacks and “light bites” menus, the chatter dies down. One by one, we turn again toward Dad.

“So, come on,” I say. “Why did you dash off? Why the big secret?”

“Why couldn’t you just tell us what was going on?” says Suze tremulously. “I got so worried….”

“Oh, my dear Suze.” Dad’s face creases in distress. “I know. I’m so sorry. I had no idea….” He hesitates. “I simply came across a huge injustice. And I had to right it.”

“But, Graham, why was it all so cloak and dagger?” says Janice, who is sitting beside Mum. “Poor Jane’s been beside herself, thinking all sorts!”

“I know.” Dad rubs his face. “I know that now. I suppose I was foolish enough to think that if I told you not to worry, then you wouldn’t. And the reason I didn’t tell you the whole story at first…” He gives another sigh. “Oh, I feel so ridiculous.”

“The Big Bonus,” I say, and Dad nods, without looking up.

“It’s a fine thing,” he says heavily, “to be caught out in a lie like that at my time of life.”

He looks really unhappy. I don’t know whether to feel sorry for him or angry.

“But Dad, why?” I can’t help my exasperation slipping out. “Why did you tell us you were earning consultancy money? You didn’t need to invent a Big Bonus. You could have told us it was money from Corey. It wouldn’t have mattered!”

“Darling, you don’t understand. Not long after you were born, I lost my job. No reason in particular: It was a time of general cutbacks. But your mother…” He hesitates. “She didn’t react very well.”

He says this with typical Dad understatement, but he probably means, She threw the crockery at me.

“I was anxious!” says Mum defensively. “Anyone would be anxious! I had a little one; our income had plummeted….”

“I know,” says Dad soothingly. “It was a worrying time.”

“You coped very well, love,” says Janice, putting a supportive hand on Mum’s. “I remember that time. You did wonders with mince.”

“I was out of work for a few months. Things were tricky.” Dad takes up the story. “And then, out of the blue, I received a letter from Corey. Not just a letter, a check too. He’d been making an income for a while, but suddenly he was into serious money. He remembered our jokey deal and he’d actually honored it. He sent me five hundred pounds. I couldn’t believe my eyes.”

“You have no idea what five hundred pounds was in those days,” chimes in Mum eagerly. “You could buy…a house!”

“Not a house,” corrects Dad. “Maybe a secondhand car.”

“That money saved our lives,” says Mum with typical drama. “It saved your life, Becky love! Who knows if you wouldn’t have starved to death?”

I can see Suze opening her mouth to protest something like, Surely there was a welfare system, and I shake my head. Mum’s in the moment. She won’t want to hear about welfare systems.

“But that’s when I made my huge mistake.” Dad is silent for a long moment, and we all wait, hardly even breathing. “It was vanity,” he says at last, “sheer vanity. I wanted your mother to be proud of me. Here we were, not long married, new parents, and I’d gone and lost my job. So…I lied. I invented a piece of work and told her I’d earned the money.” His face kind of crumples. “Stupid. So stupid.”

“I remember you running round to see me, Jane!” Janice’s face brightens. “I was hanging out my washing, remember? You came sprinting in, saying, ‘Guess what my clever husband’s done!’ I mean, we were all so relieved.” She looks around the group. “You don’t know what the strain had been like, what with Becky’s arrival and bills going up every day….” She leans across and pats Dad’s arm. “Graham, don’t blame yourself. Who wouldn’t tell a little fib in those circumstances?”

“It was pathetic,” says Dad, with a sigh. “I wanted to be the savior.”

“You were the savior,” confirms Janice firmly. “That money came into your family because of you, Graham. It doesn’t matter how.”

“I wrote back and said, Corey, you’ve just saved my marriage, old friend. He replied, Well, let’s see if I can do the same next year! And so it began.” Dad takes a slug of his drink, then looks up at Mum and me. “I meant to tell you the truth. Every year. But you were both so proud. It became such a tradition for us to spend the Big Bonus together.”

I can see Mum fingering her pearls, and my mind ranges back over the years. All the lovely lunches we’ve had, celebrating Dad’s Big Bonus. All the treats he’s bought us. Hours of happiness and pride in him. No wonder he never let on. I totally understand it.

And I also understand how shocked he was when he heard Brent had been evicted from his trailer. I mean, look at them—Dad all comfortable and prosperous, and Brent penniless. But how could he have thought he could disappear for days with no explanation and still keep his secret intact?

“So let me get this straight, Dad.” I lean toward him. “You were hoping that you’d just go off to Vegas, see Corey, somehow put things right for Brent, come home—and we’d never ask about the details.”

Dad thinks for a moment, then says, “Yes, that’s about the sum of it.”

“You thought we’d just sit at home and wait patiently.”

“Yes.”

“When we thought you’d been kidnapped by Bryce and he was going to brainwash you and Tarkie.”

“Ah…”

“You thought you’d come back and Mum would say, Good trip, dear? and you’d say, Yes, and that would be the end of the conversation.”

“Um…” Dad looks a bit foolish. “I hadn’t really thought that far.”

Honestly. Men.

“So, what has happened about Brent?” A deep voice comes from behind my seat, and I look round to see Luke standing there. “Good to see you, Graham,” he adds with a little smile, and holds his hand out to shake Dad’s. “Glad you’re safe and sound.”

“Ah, Brent.” Dad’s face twists in anguish again. “It’s a bad situation. I’m doing my best. I’ve appealed to Corey. I’ve appealed to Raymond. But…” He sighs. “There were personality clashes, you see.”

“But it makes no sense!” I say impatiently. “Why would Corey send you money every year but totally con Brent out of everything? What’s he got against Brent?”

“Well. It goes back to the trip. It was all to do with…” He glances awkwardly at Mum.

“Cherchez la femme,” says Mum, rolling her eyes. “I knew it. Didn’t I know it? Didn’t I say, ‘This is all about a woman’?”

“You did!” exclaims Janice, wide-eyed. “You did, love! So, who was the woman?”

“Rebecca,” answers Dad, and some last bit of tension seems to sink out of him. There’s a dead silence. I can sense eyes flickering avidly about the group, but no one dares even breathe.

“Graham,” says Luke at last, in such calm, even tones that I want to applaud, “why not explain about Rebecca?”

—

I’ve learned a lot of useful lessons on this road trip. I’ve learned you can’t line dance properly in flip-flops. I’ve learned that grits are definitely not my favorite food. (I ordered them in Wilderness; Minnie hated them too.) And now I’m learning that when your dad spills the beans on some ancient, complicated three-way love affair, you should take notes. Or ask him to do a PowerPoint presentation with a handout.

I am so confused. In fact, I’m going to run over the facts again, privately to myself, leaving out the talk of sunsets and young men’s blood and the heat of the day and all the other poetical stuff which Dad throws in.

Come on. If I can follow DVD box sets about serial killers, surely I can follow this story? Maybe I’ll think of it like a box set. With episodes. Yes. Good idea.

Episode 1: Dad, Corey, Brent, and Raymond were on a road trip and met a beautiful girl called Rebecca Miades in a bar. Corey fell for Rebecca in a big way, but she went off with Brent instead.

(So far, so good.)

Episode 2: Corey never got over Rebecca. (Fast-forward: He even called his first daughter Rebecca. And his first wife found out and called him obsessed and left him.) When Brent and Rebecca broke up, Corey made a renewed pitch for Rebecca, but she played him around and then went back to Brent.

(I think I’m still following….)

Episode 3: Brent and Rebecca had an on–off relationship for some years and had a baby, also called Rebecca.

(I’ve met her! The girl on the steps of the trailer who called me “princess girl.” I kind of understand why she was so hostile now, although she did not have to say I have a “prinky prinky voice.”)

Episode 4: Dad knew Rebecca had played Corey around and decided she was bad news. So when Mum insisted they call me Rebecca, he didn’t want to.

Episode 5: Meanwhile, they’d all lost touch, because they didn’t have Facebook and phones were expensive or whatever.

(You do have to feel sorry for the older generation. I mean, all this “pay phones” and “telegrams” and “airmail.” How did they cope?)

Episode 6: Then Corey started making big money. Dad got his first check from Corey and just assumed Brent was loaded too. Little did he realize that Corey had deliberately cheated Brent out of everything because of his raging jealousy over Rebecca.

(Again, if they’d only had Facebook. Or, you know, ever called each other, ever.)

Episode 7: Years later, Dad found out that Brent was penniless. He was so shocked, he flew to the States and saw Brent, but it didn’t go well, and then Brent disappeared. So he co-opted Tarquin and Bryce as fellow musketeers, and headed off to see Corey. But Corey wouldn’t even take his call, let alone have a meeting.

(Which makes me hate Corey even more. How could anyone refuse to see my dad?)

Episode 8, Season Finale: So, Brent’s probably homeless, but Corey doesn’t care. Raymond just hides away on his ranch. And no one knows where Brent is, and—

“Wait!” I cry suddenly. “Rebecca!”

How could I have got so distracted that I forgot about Rebecca?

“Dad, did you know she works here?” My words tumble out in excitement. “Rebecca-who-I’m-not-named-after works in this very hotel! She’s here!” I flail my hands. “Rebecca! Here!”

“Love, I know.” Dad looks perplexed. “That’s why I’m here. That’s why I came to Sedona.”

“Oh,” I say, feeling stupid. “Of course.”

“She’s been away, but she’s due back today.” Dad gestures around the seating area. “That’s why I’ve been waiting here.”

“Right. I see.”

Honestly, I so need the printed handout.

“So, is there any hope for Brent?” Luke says to Dad, as a waiter brings another round of drinks. “What’s your strategy?”

“At first I thought Corey might have mellowed with age.” Dad pulls a rueful face. “I was wrong about that. Now I’ve got a lawyer involved and we’re examining the case again. But it’s difficult without Brent himself. It was a long time ago….There are no records….I thought perhaps Rebecca could help—” He breaks off and sighs. “But I don’t know if we’ll get anywhere.”

“And what’s Tarkie doing?”

Poor Suze has been waiting all this time to ask. She’s sitting on the edge of her seat, her hands squishing together. “Is he OK? Only, I haven’t heard from him for…a while.”

“Suze, my dear!” Dad quickly turns to her. “Don’t worry. Tarquin is just preoccupied. He’s gone off to Las Vegas to find out more about Corey. Without giving away the connection to me, you see. He’s a very resourceful man, your husband.”

The crease in Suze’s brow doesn’t lessen.

“Right,” she says, her voice trembling. “OK. Um, Graham, has he mentioned any…trees at all?”

“Trees?” Dad sounds surprised.

“Never mind.” Suze looks a bit desperate. “It doesn’t matter.” She picks up a piece of bread and starts ripping it to bits without eating it.

“I just hope this Brent appreciates what you’re doing!” says Mum, her face a bit pink. “After all we’ve been through.”

“Oh, he probably won’t,” says Dad, with an easy laugh. “I’d like you to meet him, though. He’s a pigheaded old soul, and he can be his own worst enemy, but he’s wise. ‘You can C.B. or you can M.M.M.,’ he used to say. I’ve always remembered that.” Dad sees Janice’s confused look. “Cut Back or Make More Money,” he explains.

“That’s very good!” says Janice in delight. “C.B. or M.M.M. Oh, I like that. I’m going to write it down.”

I’m staring at Dad in stupefaction. C.B. or M.M.M.? That came from Brent?

“But that’s Becky’s motto!” says Suze, in equal disbelief. “That’s, like, her Bible.”

“I thought that was your saying!” I say almost accusingly to Dad. “That’s what I always tell people. ‘My dad says you have to C.B. or M.M.M.’ ”

“Well, I do say that.” He smiles. “But I learned it first from Brent. I learned a lot from him, in fact.”

“Like what?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Dad leans back in his chair, his glass in his hand, his eyes distant. “Brent was always philosophical. He was a listener. I was going through some anxieties about my career path at the time, and he’d put everything in perspective. His other saying was, ‘The other person always has a point.’ He’d bring that one out when Raymond and Corey were arguing, which they often did after a few beers.” Dad laughs at the recollection. “They’d be going at it, hammer and tongs, and Brent would be lying there, feet up on a rock, smoking, saying, ‘The other person always has a point. Listen to each other, and you’ll hear it.’ It drove the others mad.” He pauses, and I can tell he’s lost in his memories.

OK, next Christmas, when Dad starts telling us about his trip again, I am so going to lap up every word.

“But why couldn’t Brent sort out his own life a bit better?” I venture. “I mean, if he was so wise and everything?”

A strange, melancholy expression passes over Dad’s face.

“Not so easy when it’s your own life. He knew he drank too much, even then, although he hid it. I tried to talk to him about it, but…” His hands fall to his lap. “We were young. What did I know about alcoholism?” He looks so downcast. “What a waste.”

There’s a kind of sober little silence. This is such a sad story. And I’m feeling like Dad now. I’m burning with righteous indignation. I want to sort everything out for Brent and crush that vile Corey.

“But I’m not sure where to go from here.” Dad rubs his eyes wearily. “If I can’t get access to Corey…”

“I can’t believe he wouldn’t meet up with you,” I say hotly. “His old friend.”

“He’s built a fortress around himself,” says Dad with a shrug. “Gates, guards, dogs…”

“We only got in because they were holding a children’s birthday party and thought we were guests,” I tell him.

“You did well, love,” says Dad wryly. “I didn’t even manage to get through on the phone.”

“We met his new wife and everything. She actually seems lovely.”

“From what I hear, she’s very sweet-natured.” Dad nods. “I thought perhaps I could get at Corey through her. But Corey controls her. He wants to know where she is at all times, reads her correspondence….” He sips his drink. “I tried to get a meeting with her, after I’d failed with Corey. She emailed back and said it wasn’t possible and not to contact her again. I wouldn’t be surprised if Corey sent the email.”

“Oh, Dad,” I say with sympathy.

“Oh, that wasn’t the worst! I even stood outside the house and called out as they drove away in their Bugatti. Waved my arms, shouted…but no joy.”

I feel a surge of fresh fury at Corey. How dare he demean my dad like that?

“If Brent only knew how much you were doing on his behalf,” I say. “Do you think he has any idea?”

“I doubt it,” says Dad with a rueful chuckle. “I mean, he knew I wanted to help. But I don’t expect he imagined I’d end up on such an escapade—”

He stops at the sound of clicking beads. Something weird passes over his face and he blinks several times. At once I turn to see what it is—and freeze dead.

No way. No way.

It’s all happening! The box-set plot is unfolding before my eyes. It’s like a whole new season is kicking off.

Season 2, Episode 1: Forty-something years later, in a hotel in Sedona, Arizona, Graham Bloomwood and Rebecca Miades finally come face-to-face again.

She’s standing at the beaded curtain, curling a strand of long, dyed-red hair round one finger. She has lots of amber eye shadow round her green eyes, too much kohl, and a long floaty skirt in burgundy. Her matching top is low-cut, displaying lots of cleavage. Her nails are painted black, and she has a henna tattoo snaking up her arm. She looks at Dad and says nothing but smiles slowly in recognition, her eyes crinkling up like a cat’s.

“Oh my God,” says Dad at last, and his voice sounds a little faint. “Rebecca.”

“Oh my God,” comes an abrasive-sounding voice from behind Rebecca. “Princess girl.”