'I want a normal cup of coffee,' says Dad, peering at the menu with a frown. 'Do they do such a thing?'

'If they don't, you'll have to have a cappuccino and spoon off the froth,' says Mum. 'Or an espresso and just ask them to add hot water.'

I don't believe this. They have driven two hundred miles. Are we just going to sit here and talk about hot beverages all day?

'Oh, and that reminds me,' adds Mum casually. 'We've bought you a little something, Emma. Haven't we, Brian?'

'Oh … right,' I say in surprise. 'What is it?'

'It's a car,' says Mum, and looks up at the waiter who's appeared at our table. 'Hello! I would like a cappuccino, my husband would like a filter coffee if that's possible, and Emma would like—'

'A car?' I echo in disbelief.

'Car,' echoes the Italian waiter, and gives me a suspicious look. 'You want coffee?'

'I'd … I'd like a cappuccino, please,' I say distractedly.

'And a selection of cakes,' adds Mum. 'Grazie!'

'Mum …' I put a hand to my head as the waiter disappears. 'What do you mean, you've bought me a car?'

'Just a little run-around. You ought to have a car. It's not safe, you travelling on all these buses. Grandpa's quite right.'

'But … but I can't afford a car,' I say stupidly. 'I can't even … what about the money I owe you? What about—'

'Forget the money,' says Dad. 'We're going to wipe the slate clean.'

'What?' I stare at him, more bewildered than ever. 'But we can't do that! I still owe you—'

'Forget the money,' says Dad, a sudden edge to his voice. 'I want you to forget all about it, Emma. You don't owe us anything. Nothing at all.'

I honestly cannot take all this in. I look confusedly from Dad to Mum. Then back to Dad. Then, very slowly, back to Mum again.

And it's really strange. But it almost feels as though we're seeing each other properly for the first time in years. As though we're seeing each other and saying hello and kind of … starting again.

'We were wondering what you thought about taking a little holiday next year,' says Mum. 'With us.'

'Just … us?' I say, looking around the table.

'Just the three of us, we thought.' She gives me a tentative smile. 'It might be fun! You don't have to, of course, if you've got other plans.'

'No! I'd like to!' I say quickly. 'I really would. But … but what about …'

I can't even bring myself to say Kerry's name.

There's a tiny silence, during which Mum and Dad look at each other, and then away again.

'Kerry sends her love, of course!' says Mum brightly, as though she's changing the subject completely. She clears her throat. 'You know, she thought she might visit Hong Kong next year. Visit her father. She hasn't seen him for at least five years, and maybe it's time they … had some time together.'

'Right,' I say dazedly. 'Good idea.'

I can't believe this. Everything's changed. It's as if the entire family has been thrown up in the air and has fallen down in different positions, and nothing's like it was before.

'We feel, Emma,' says Dad, and stops. 'We feel … that perhaps we haven't been … that perhaps we haven't always noticed …' He breaks off and rubs his nose vigorously.

'Cappu-ccino,' says the waiter, planting a cup in front of me. 'Filter co-ffee, cappu-ccino … coffee cake … lemon cake … chocolate—'

'Thank you!' interrupts Mum. 'Thank you so much. I think we can manage from here.' The waiter disappears again, and she looks at me. 'Emma, what we want to say is … we're very proud of you.'

Oh God. Oh God, I think I'm going to cry.

'Right,' I manage.

'And we …' Dad begins. 'That is to say, we both — your mother and I —' He clears his throat. 'We've always … and always will … both of us …'

He pauses, breathing rather hard. I don't quite dare say anything.

'What I'm trying to say, Emma,' he starts again. 'As I'm sure you … as I'm sure we all … which is to say …'

He stops again, and wipes his perspiring face with a napkin.

'The fact of the matter is that … is that …'

'Oh, just tell your daughter you love her, Brian, for once in your bloody life!' cries Mum.

'I … I … love you, Emma!' says Dad in a choked-up voice. 'Oh Jesus.' He brushes roughly at his eye.

'I love you too, Dad,' I say, my throat tight. 'And you, Mum.'

'You see!' says Mum, dabbing at her eye. 'I knew it wasn't a mistake to come!' She clutches hold of my hand, and I clutch hold of Dad's hand, and for a moment we're in a kind of awkward group hug.

'You know … we're all sacred links in the eternal circle of life,' I say with a sudden swell of emotion.

'What?' Both my parents look at me blankly.

'Er, never mind. Doesn't matter.' I release my hand, take a sip of cappuccino, and look up.

And my heart nearly stops.

Jack is standing at the door of the coffee shop.


TWENTY-TWO


My heart is hammering in my chest as I stare at him through the glass doors. He puts out a hand, the door pings, and suddenly he's inside the coffee shop.

As he walks towards our table, I feel a rush of emotion. This is the man I thought I was in love with. This is the man who completely used me. Now the initial shock has faded, all the old feelings of pain and humiliation are threatening to take over and turn me to jelly again.

But I'm not going to let them. I'm going to be strong and dignified.

'Ignore him,' I say to Mum and Dad.

'Who?' says Dad, turning round in his chair. 'Oh!'

'Emma, I want to talk to you,' says Jack, his face earnest.

'Well, I don't want to talk to you.'

'I'm so sorry to interrupt.' He glances at Mum and Dad. 'If we could just have a moment …'

'I'm not going anywhere!' I say in outrage. 'I'm having a nice cup of coffee with my parents.'

'Please.' He sits down at an adjoining table. 'I want to explain. I want to apologize.'

'There's no explanation you could possibly give me.' I look fiercely at Mum and Dad. 'Pretend he isn't there. Just carry on.'

There's silence. Mum and Dad are giving each other surreptitious looks, and I can see Mum mouthing something. She stops abruptly as she sees me looking at her, and takes a sip of coffee.

'Let's just … have a conversation!' I say desperately. 'So, Mum.'

'Yes?' she says hopefully.

My mind is blank. I can't think of anything. All I can think is that Jack is sitting four feet away.

'How's the golf?' I say at last.

'It's … er … fine, thanks.' Mum shoots a glance at Jack.

'Don't look at him!' I mutter. 'And … and Dad?' I persevere, loudly. 'How's your golf?'

'It's … also fine,' says Dad stiltedly.

'Where do you play?' asks Jack politely.

'You're not in the conversation!' I cry, turning furiously on my chair.

There's silence.

'Dear me!' says Mum suddenly in a stagy voice. 'Just look at the time! We're due at the … the … sculpture exhibition.'

What?

'Lovely to see you, Emma—'

'You can't go!' I say in panic. But Dad's already opening his wallet and placing a £20 note on the table, while Mum stands up and puts on her white jacket.

'Just listen to him,' she whispers, bending down to give me a kiss.

'Bye, Emma,' says Dad, and squeezes my hand awkwardly. And within the space of about thirty seconds, they're gone.

I cannot believe they have done this to me.

'So,' says Jack, as the door pings shut.

Determinedly I shift my chair round, so I can't see him.

'Emma, please.'

Even more determinedly I shift my chair round again, until I'm staring straight at the wall. That'll show him.

The only thing is, now I can't reach my cappuccino.

'Here.' I look round to see Jack has moved his chair right up next to mine, and is holding out my cup to me.

'Leave me alone!' I say angrily, leaping to my feet. 'We have nothing to talk about. Nothing.'

I grab my bag and stalk out of the coffee shop, into the busy street. A moment later, I feel a hand on my shoulder.

'We could at least discuss what happened …'

'Discuss what?' I wheel round. 'How you used me? How you betrayed me?'

'OK, Emma. I appreciate I embarrassed you. But … is it really such a big deal?'

'Such a big deal?' I cry in disbelief, nearly knocking over a lady with a shopping trolley. 'You came into my life. You fed me this huge amazing romance. You made me fall in lo—' I halt myself abruptly, panting slightly. 'You said you were gripped by me. You made me … care for you … and I believed every single word!' My voice is starting to wobble treacherously. 'I believed it all, Jack. But all the way along, you had an ulterior motive. You were just using me for your stupid research. All the time, you were just … using me.'

Jack stares at me.

'No,' he says. 'No, wait. You have this wrong.' He grabs my arm. 'That's not the way it was. I didn't set out to use you.'

How does he have the nerve to say that?

'Of course you did!' I say, wrenching my arm out of his grasp, jabbing the button at a pedestrian crossing. 'Of course you did! Don't deny it was me you were talking about in that interview. Don't deny you had me in mind.' I feel a fresh spasm of humiliation. 'Every detail was me. Every bloody detail!'

'OK.' Jack is clasping his head. 'OK. Listen. I don't deny I had you in mind. I don't deny you filtered into … But that doesn't mean …' He looks up. 'I have you on my mind most of the time. That's the truth, I have you on my mind.'