‘Nicole’s right.’ Neither of them had heard Jock entering the kitchen.
‘Dad, this is between me and Karl,’ she cried. ‘Don’t interfere.’
‘I’m not interfering.’ His wide girth filled the space between them. ‘You can make this as easy or as difficult as you want.’ He spoke directly to Karl. ‘We’ll do our best to facilitate you—’
‘Facilitate? I’m not here to be facilitated. I’m here to seek custodial rights to my daughter and bring her home.’
‘Let me remind you of this salient fact,’ his father-in-law said. ‘Unlike you, Sasha is a US citizen, as is her mother. Do you honestly believe any judge would allow you to have custody of her under those circumstances?’
‘I have rights—’
‘We all have rights,’ Jock agreed. ‘My daughter had the right to know the truth about your past when you married her. You lied to her about Arizona—’
‘I never lied about that.’
‘No, you didn’t,’ Nicole agreed. ‘You simply avoided telling me the truth.’
‘What has Arizona got to do with Sasha?’
‘Everything.’ Arms akimbo, Jock rocked back in his easy slippers, his large feet spread wide. ‘That investigation is still open. No one has ever been convicted for assaulting that unfortunate woman. Don’t you think that’s going to have an impact on the judge’s decision, especially when your niece’s tragic death is public knowledge and the accused was your friend?’
Karl walked to the end of the kitchen and breathed deeply. Ten deep breaths was supposed to calm the nerves and lower blood pressure, but the pounding in his head continued.
‘Stop it, Dad.’ Nicole sounded calm and in control again. ‘You’re so out of order. Apologise to Karl immediately.’
‘I’m a straight talker, always have been,’ Jock blustered. ‘I’m only telling you how it will be perceived by a judge.’
‘He’s waiting for your apology, Dad.’
‘Fuck your apology.’ Karl resisted the urge to smash his fist into Jock’s self-righteous face and loosen his too-white teeth. ‘I’m taking my daughter back to Ireland with me and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it. Challenge me on this and I’ll show you what I learned about protecting one’s property while I was in jail.’
‘That’s enough.’ Nicole shoved them apart and hustled her father from the kitchen.
At the kitchen door Jock looked back, confident on his own turf. ‘I know your status, Karl. If you overstay your visit you’ll be in trouble with immigration. Believe me, that’s not a sensible idea. Keep your record clean and you can visit us again. But if you make things difficult for Nicole, I’ll make sure you’re served with a deportation order as soon as your time here is up. Then you’ll have to wait till hell freezes over before you see your daughter again.’
‘How can you stay with him?’ he asked Nicole when she drove him to his hotel. ‘You hated this house when you lived here. Your father was a bully then and he hasn’t changed. All he wants is a housekeeper now that your mother isn’t around to wait on him hand and foot.’
‘What he wants and what he’ll get are two different things,’ she replied. ‘I start nursing in Highbridge Memorial next month and I intend finding my own place as soon as possible.’
Another brick in the wall of her new life, Karl thought. Her father was an obnoxious buffoon but he spoke the truth. Karl had flown to New York on the wings of a fantasy, the longing to see Sasha blinding him to his reality. A savings account that was almost gone. A house that would soon be repossessed. A dole allowance that would barely cover the rent of a bedsit as he searched for work. A name that would forever be associated with Constance’s death and the tragedy that had unfolded in Arizona. His time with Sasha would be precious. Gems to collect and take with him when he was forced to say goodbye to her.
Part III
Chapter Thirty-Three
The Years That Followed
Lar Richardson was waiting for her in a seat by the restaurant window. Their first date, he called it. Such an old-fashioned phrase, quaint. But there was an age gap between them that could not be denied. Amanda was accompanied to her table by the ma?tre d’, a portly man who effortlessly combined haughtiness and deference towards those who dined in The Amber Door.
Eyes swivelled to observe her. She delighted in their attention and the knowledge that they recognised her. The weight she had lost had made her intriguingly thin without being considered anorexic. Her hair, strong and straight, hadn’t needed much attention, apart from a strategic red streak in front. Just the right amount of collagen had been used on her lips and she’d had some minor work done around her eyes. Her teeth were perfect. Nowadays, when she scrutinised herself in the mirror, Amanda loved what she saw. Narcissism, she believed, was part of the human condition. The prime motivator for success. Her narcissism had a function and Lar’s gaze proved that her efforts had been worthwhile.
He had steered her in a new direction. Admittedly, Mandy Meets, her celebrity chat show, sounded like the title of a pre-teen comic for girls but it was catchy, easy to remember, and Lar was delighted with the rankings. She had reinvented herself and life was good. Four times a week, Tuesday to Friday, a prime afternoon television slot.
‘You’re a natural,’ he’d told her when he had interviewed her shortly after the unfortunate bomb hoax. ‘I’ve an eye for quality. When that’s combined with style, drive and ambition, it’s unbeatable.’ This was a statement, not a compliment, and when she thanked him for his kindness, he said, ‘I’ve been called many things, Amanda. Kind is not one of them. You’re entering a harsh industry. If I didn’t believe you have the toughness to cope, you wouldn’t be sitting here in front of me.’