Читать книгу Sex, Lies & Crazy People - John Hickman - Страница 13

On the Prowl

In our arena of doom, Dad wore his cheesiest grin. He looked embarrassed when he said, “I’ve decided to turn some focus to my social life.”

I looked bewildered.

He continued, “Outside of family I don’t have a social life! Your mum and I were

married for nearly twenty years. I’m unhappy being alone.” Dad turned away. I guessed he was misting up. “I miss her dreadfully, but now I’ve decided to do something about it.” He paused and brightened. “A new wife, and for Pandy a new mum is to become my principal interest in life, outside of the hotel.”

That night at dinner Dad told us, “I’ve joined some singles agencies to go out on dates to meet women.”

Gran and Gramps exchanged looks that conveyed they had mixed feelings.

I could understand their point of view. Pandy was content cared for by Gran, and

provided she didn’t misbehave, she had almost full run of the hotel. Run being the operative word. She’d been told to act as an adult, no running, no giggling in public. We were after all a business.

Dad asked me to cover for him while he went out on a few dates.

From the stories he told afterwards he’d been disappointed how mostly they were

hardened control types with their own agendas.

“That surprises me,” I said, “I’d thought there would have been a greater element of romance.”

“Maybe they’re fed up, sitting alone in the dark, sipping gin and bitching about men,” Gran said shifting uncomfortably in her chair.

Gramps was thoughtful. “What if they didn’t start off in the dark?”

Gran let out another of her long, low sighs and mustered a pre-emptive strike by Groucho Marx. “I was married by a judge. I should have asked for a jury.”

Gramps leaned close to me, “If your Dad’s not careful he’ll become tagged.”

“Tagged as what?”

He grinned. “That quiet, fucked-up bloke from the Harewood Hotel.”