Shopaholic to the Rescue (29 page)

“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.”

From: [email protected]

To: Brandon, Rebecca

Subject:
Re: Massive, MASSIVE request

Dear Mrs. Brandon,

I received your email an hour ago and was taken by its “urgent” tone. I do not quite understand how “lives can be hanging in the balance” over such a matter, but I do perceive your anxiety and, as you reminded me, I did indeed “offer to help.”

I therefore set out immediately, with a small packed supper and my Thermos. I am writing now from a service station on the A27.

I hope to reach my destination before too long and will keep you abreast of “developments.”

Yours sincerely,

Derek Smeath

FOURTEEN