‘Your dad, did he tell you about your surprise sixteenth birthday present?’
Sophie’s smile widened. ‘No,’ she said, betting it was something really cool. Her dad always got her cool stuff: her Red or Dead boots; the puffer jacket he’d seen her drooling over in Miss Selfridge. Her heart dipped again, though, when she remembered the luxurious things Paul Radley had tried to tempt her with, which she’d actually thought were cool.
‘Well?’ she asked, as her mum eyed her teasingly.
‘Sorry.’ Her mum held up her hands. ‘I can’t say. Your dad will kill me if I tell you before he does.’
‘Yeah, right.’ Sophie rolled her eyes. ‘I very much doubt that. Dad wouldn’t hurt a fly. That’s why he’s a doctor.’
Her mum glanced down. ‘No,’ she said, smiling sadly now. ‘No, he wouldn’t.’
Noticing a tear plop down her cheek, Sophie looked at her, startled. ‘Mum,’ she said, pulling her into a hug, ‘I thought we weren’t supposed to be letting him win.’
‘We’re not.’ Alicia squeezed her hard back. ‘They’re tears of relief, that’s all. That you’re here. God, I’ve missed you. Come on,’ she said, easing away and running the back of her hand under her nose. ‘Let’s go and find your father. He can give you the guided tour.’
‘Tour?’ Sophie’s mind boggled. ‘What’s he got me, Buckingham Palace?’
Following her mum to the door, Sophie quashed another bout of guilt as she realised how upset they both must have been on her sixteenth. They’d always pulled out all the stops on her birthday – having her friends over, buying a cake. Her mum had even made one once. It had taken her hours. She was rubbish in the kitchen, she’d always said, making no excuses for what she called her deficient domestic goddess gene. Sophie’s thoughts swung again to Paul Radley. She’d had no friends while she’d been stuck in that apartment, not realising she was actually stuck in it. No phone. No contact with anyone. She doubted whether he would ever have let any of her friends in it, so OCD was he. Whatever happened to him, after what he’d done to her mum and dad, he deserved it, she decided.
‘It’s not quite Buckingham Palace,’ Justin said, looking rueful as they met him on the landing. Obviously, he’d overheard. Sophie felt bad about that too. She hoped he wasn’t thinking she rated material stuff over what really mattered. Because she didn’t, and now she never would. She’d make sure to tell him that. ‘A bit smaller,’ he added, allowing them to pass.
‘A shoebox?’ Preferably containing new Red or Dead boots. Sophie glanced hopefully over her shoulder, noticing Justin’s hand going to the small of her mum’s back, which she’d managed to strain somehow.
‘Any better?’ he asked her.
‘A bit.’ Alicia replied. ‘Still painful though.’
‘Bend at the knee next time,’ Justin advised, as they followed Sophie down the stairs. ‘So, when did you do it exactly?’
‘I’m not sure,’ Alicia said vaguely, stopping at the basement door.
‘What? You can’t remember when you shifted the furniture?’ Justin sounded dubious.
‘Not exactly, no. Not to worry.’ She waved away his concerns. ‘I’m sure it will be fine once I’ve rested it.’
Noticing they were both loitering at the basement door now, Sophie back-stepped. ‘A tiger?’ she said, looking bemusedly at them. ‘Must be, if you’re keeping it chained up in the basement.’
‘Try again.’ Alicia smiled, swinging the door open.
‘My very own vat of vintage wine?’ Sophie peeked down after her as her mum led the way.
‘In your dreams,’ Alicia called back. ‘Well, come on then. Your dad will be having a nervous breakdown wondering whether you like it.’
Seventy-Six
ALICIA
‘You have to be kidding me.’ Standing in the middle of the studio, Sophie’s eyes grew so wide, Alicia was sure they would pop right out of her head. ‘You mean you did all this yourself?’ She turned in disbelief to Justin. ‘The man who puts his foot in paint trays?’
Justin ran a hand over his neck. ‘Yes, thanks for that reminder, Sophie,’ he said, smiling embarrassedly.
‘He’s been working on his DIY skills,’ said Alicia. She stepped towards her husband, sliding a hand around his waist.
‘Obviously.’ Sophie glanced around, clearly awestruck, though Justin didn’t seem entirely confident she was impressed.
‘So, do you like it?’ he asked her tentatively.
‘Like it?’ Sophie’s eyes boggled wider. ‘It’s like, wow!’
‘I take it that’s a yes?’
‘Yes!’ Sophie said effusively, launching herself at Justin. ‘It’s totally cool. I love it,’ she assured him, almost strangling him as she threw her arms around his neck, and then promptly took off, inspecting the various bits of equipment Justin had installed: microphones and stands, recording software, headphones… Alicia didn’t have a clue what half of it was.
‘You got me a Macbook Pro.’ Sophie turned to him, her eyes filling up. ‘And a digital audio workstation.’ She trailed a hand over it. ‘It must have cost a bomb.’
‘I’m selling my body to pay for it.’ Justin shrugged, definitely looking pleased.
God, she loved this man. He’d never given up hope, not once. Whatever the future held, Alicia knew with certainty she would have had no future without him. He’d never been selfish or controlling. In his lovemaking, in every aspect of his life, he was generous – a giver, not a taker. She would always be grateful for every precious day she had with him.
‘Is it okay, the DAW?’ he asked her.
‘Perfect,’ Sophie beamed. ‘I can’t wait to show Chloe.’
‘What about the monitors? I was shopping in the dark a bit.’
‘The man done good,’ Sophie assured him. ‘You even got an audio interface. It’s phenomenal.’
‘I’ll go and get the cake. Don’t worry, it’s not homemade.’ Alicia smiled, leaving them to the technical jargon.
Seventy-Seven
ALICIA
Candles blown out and wishes made – hers perhaps an impossible wish – they’d decided on a family afternoon as a treat for Sophie’s postponed birthday. It was the first workday they’d all been home together that wasn’t tinged with unbearable sadness, and being with each other seemed fitting. Clearing up in the kitchen, Alicia went to join Justin and Sophie in the lounge, but stopped short of the door, wanting to simply listen to father and daughter talking, as they used to.
‘So what do you fancy?’ Justin asked Sophie, picking up the TV remote. ‘A film, Homeland or a rerun of Game of Thrones?’
‘Not fussed,’ Sophie said. ‘You choose.’
‘A film,’ Justin decided, flicking to Netflix. ‘Something cheerful, hopefully, that your mum will fancy too.’
‘Okay?’ Alicia heard him ask softly a second later, as he browsed.
‘Better,’ Sophie answered, her voice sounding so young, so vulnerable, it almost wrenched Alicia’s heart from inside her.