ANTHONY
Anthony was starting to wonder if he was bipolar. Mostly he was a loving father who absolutely doted on his little princess. More recently, however, he was finding that he had this alarming alter-ego. He was filled with such anger and hatred and, more worryingly, he felt increasingly out of control. He
never
felt out of control. He considered his ability to stay cool and calm under pressure to be one of his major assets. Half the barristers in London had at one time or other tried to emulate his ‘look’, which they’d amusingly labelled as the ‘de Klerk’, after his surname. Anthony chuckled as he thought of it, although he should have been alarmed, because the ‘de Klerk’ was in itself bipolar. The glassy intensity in his eyes had the power to perform the impossible – it could simultaneously unnerve and entrust. It was a look whose harshness made witnesses for the opposition crumble under his questioning and yet, at the same time, there was sensitivity in his gaze which made juries believe every word he was saying, even if it was a load of bullshit.
This California trip wasn’t going well. He wanted to blame Ali for dreaming up the idea in the first place but he knew that was unfair. And actually, on the one hand it
had
been a success for all the reasons she’d suggested.
To beat the opposition you’ve got to understand them
. That was a maxim they swore by. It helped lawyers notch up victories. And Jonah was now the opposition although he didn’t act like it; in fact, he acted irritatingly affably and it was hard to find fault with him. But, damn it, Anthony would. Because Jonah was becoming dangerously attached to Miriam and Anthony would not risk losing his precious daughter to another man. So it
had
been useful to come out to San Diego a couple of days early, to case the joint, so to speak, and to create a profile of the enemy. Not to mention the enemy’s daughter. She’d really caught him off guard and her wanting to invite Miriam to her birthday party had been a humdinger. He seriously didn’t want his daughter to attend. By rights he didn’t need to. The party was during
his
contact time and every second of every day that he was entitled to spend with Miriam was precious. He didn’t want to give up that time, and yet by saying ‘no’ he came across as the bad guy. He
had
already said ‘no’, a response which went down like a ton of bricks. Miriam accused him of being mean. “You don’t care about what
I
want,” she accused. “It’s all about you.” She’d never spoken like this to him before. Was this all Martha’s influence? Anthony wished he’d been able to create a better profile of the enemy’s daughter, but that had been difficult. Like her father, she’d been so goddamned polite.
Catching a glimpse of Lily Beach was the only part of the trip which had so far been a success. He’d made notes of several things which could come in handy as evidence later. He even had photographs to back up some of the evidence. It had been tricky. At one point he was nearly caught in the act but he not only managed to cleverly snap photos of what he now considered to be the key incident itself, he had post-incident exhibits too. And although she didn’t realise it, his daughter was helping him as the lead witness. Who knew that such simple questions could elicit such crucial information? “Oh no,” he said, observing the large red patch her arm. “How did that happen?” Even more interesting was when she told him about the zip-line. He knew about the zip-line because he’d tried to book it up for himself to go with Miriam, and failed. “How old is Martha by the way?” he asked vaguely, not wanting to make it seem as if he actually cared about the answer. She was tall and looked older than his daughter, but that meant nothing. The reply had come back as ‘eight’. This titbit was duly added to the series of notes in his little black book.
This was all excellent stuff but, in other respects, Anthony was kicking himself for not having second-guessed how things might turn out. Why had he chosen to stay in San Diego? Of course Miriam was going to make comparisons. He’d rented a luxury two-bed property with its own small heated pool in the trendy and historic downtown Gaslamp Quarter. It was charming, brilliantly located, next to lots of restaurants, cute shops and museums, with pretty little streets and Victorian-style architecture. And yet when he asked Miriam what she thought of it she said “It’s fine, but Jonah’s place is nicer. It’s literally on the beach.”
It was hard keeping his cool. He’d spent a lot of time after hours in London creating an itinerary specifically designed to please Miriam. The day after he collected her he arranged to go to SeaWorld. “I’ve already been,” she said flippantly. “Mummy filmed there and was given special VIP passes to take us afterwards. We did this amazing thing where we got into the water with the dolphins and learned how to communicate with them using hand commands. I kissed one of them on the nose and he even gave me a ride.”
Anthony had already bought expensive, non-refundable tickets so they still went, and Miriam happily still enjoyed it. They managed to find shows and rides that she hadn’t yet done but, nonetheless, Anthony was annoyed that Claire and Jonah had stolen his thunder. That evening he suggested they visit the zoo, thinking that Jasper would enjoy seeing the animals. “I’ve already been there,” sniped Miriam, “twice.” Anthony thought he was going to scream. He
wanted
to scream. If he could have escaped to another room to open a window, stick out his face and shriek his frustration into the ether for the neighbours to hear, then he would have. They’d not gone to the zoo, even though Anthony and Ali wanted to see the polar bears and pandas. Instead they went to an aqua park full of water slides which Miriam loved and Jasper disliked. He was too young to appreciate it and the noise and water made him tetchy. Jet lag was messing with his sleep patterns and turning him into one of those babies other parents used as contraception. If they
had
been thinking about procreating in the near future, then one look at Jasper in action made them question their plans. Perhaps they were too ambitious taking a long haul trip with a baby. Whereas Miriam used to fuss and fawn over her little brother she now appeared disinterested. Who could blame her? Whining isn’t endearing to anybody. Sensitive to the issue, Anthony suggested to Ali that he spend the following day with just Miriam. Ali wasn’t overwhelmingly in favour of the idea but she didn’t say no. Anthony found Miriam sitting in front of the television, watching an American version of
Come Dine with Me
.
“It’s just you and me tomorrow,” he sat down next to her. “The others are going to chill out here. Have you got any ideas?”
Perhaps giving her a choice would be more successful. She thought about it.
“Legoland,” she said, like a question.
“What, you haven’t already been to Legoland?”
Anthony was surprised. It was one of San Diego’s premier attractions and he had it on the itinerary for later in their stay.
“Mummy filmed there, but we never went.”
Anthony was delighted. Not that Claire had filmed there. That actually unsettled him. Maybe her career was going better than he’d given her credit for. But Legoland was perfect and Jasper would be too young to enjoy it anyway, so at least Ali wouldn’t feel she was missing out. Plus Ali had an aversion to theme parks. Ah-ha, suddenly another idea popped into his head. Whilst the word
Disney
made him feel slightly queasy, with all its stomach-churning rides and plastic saccharine sparkle, it might just be the answer to his prayers.
On the television screen, a hippy Californian lady was busy constructing her own homemade organic pork sausages, mincing the meat and piping it into casings. Miriam stared at the screen transfixed. Anthony was thinking why bother, it would be much easier to buy them from the butchers.
“Would you like to go to Disneyland?” he asked.
In a flash her attention shifted from the sausages to him, proof of the power of Disney.
“Really?” she asked, her eyes popping out of her head.
Anthony hadn’t cleared it with Ali, but why didn’t he and Miriam go to Los Angeles for a few days? Disneyland was easily reachable from there and it would offer a change of scenery. Plus, at least that was somewhere she hadn’t yet been.
“Absolutely,” he said.
“You bet,” she said. “That would be awesome.”
There was an American twang to the way Miriam now spoke. She was definitely emulating Martha and a stop needed to be put to it.
Miriam flung her arms around Anthony’s neck. It was the nicest she’d been to him since he’d fetched her.
“Thank you so much Daddy,” she said.
“It’s a pleasure darling.”
He grimaced over her shoulder as they hugged. Now all he needed was for Ali to agree that she and Jasper should be left behind. Much as Anthony would prefer not to go there himself, it would definitely be worth it. Because crucially, this Disney trip would definitely, unequivocally and cunningly be coinciding with Martha’s party.
--------------
Sleep deprived as a result of Jasper’s unsettled nights, Ali didn’t fancy cooking dinner so Anthony ordered takeaway pizzas: pineapple and ham for himself, margherita for Ali and pepperoni for Miriam. Anthony raised an eyebrow at the pepperoni. “Are you sure?” he checked. When it came to pizza she always played it safe with cheese and tomato. “Martha always has pepperoni,” she explained. A muted ‘huh’ left Anthony’s throat. Of course it had something to do with Martha.
Nonetheless, the pizzas went down well and even though Anthony doubted that she would, Miriam
did
eat the pepperoni. As her father, he knew he should be delighted not only that she was broadening her culinary horizons, but that she was making new friends and seemed happy. If only it were that simple. He wanted her all to himself and was jealous. A bigger man might have been able to handle this complicated scenario better and risen above the green-eyed monster. Nobody taught you how to deal with creating new, blended families. It was hit and miss, trial and error, and a torturous journey of making it up as you went along. So far, the merger of everyone’s twisted lives felt like a complicated, knotted ball of wool. Untie one knot, but then you find another. The ball of wool wouldn’t and couldn’t ever return to its former shape, tug, pull and try as he might. Not that he would ever admit it to her but Claire had handled everything much better than he had.
Their rented apartment wasn’t huge, but it was comfortable, especially the lounge with its plush suede sofa suite and its showpiece, wall-mounted flat screen TV. Chilling in front of the television chewing pizza was a nice way to round off the day. Perhaps that’s what they’d all needed. An easy-going twenty-four hours to recharge and regroup. Jasper had thankfully fallen asleep early, leaving just the three of them to enjoy some peaceful grown-up conversation. Ali was having a nice chat with Miriam, asking about her stay in San Diego. Miriam was responding and opening up. It felt like the two of them were bonding and Anthony was grateful to just sit back and flick between sports channels as they spoke, with one ear on their dialogue. He yawned and checked his watch. It was 8.55pm and they were going to LegoLand tomorrow.
“Princess,” he interrupted their discussion about some funky clothes boutique in Coronado. “I think it’s time for bed. We’ve got a big day ahead.”
“Oh my God,” she clapped a hand over her mouth. “I nearly forgot. What time is it?”
“Five to nine,” said Anthony, laying down the remote control next to him on the sofa.
Miriam picked it back up and starting flicking through the channels until she reached ABC.
“Mummy said she might be on at 9 pm. There’s this pilot for a new family-friendly food programme and she’s in it.”
For once Anthony resisted the temptation to guffaw and say “unlikely”, even though he thought it was just that. Why on earth would Claire be on American TV, prime time, Saturday night? Miriam had surely got it wrong but he didn’t dare risk the wrath of his daughter, not when everything appeared to be slowly getting back on track. Miriam kept looking at the face on Anthony’s watch. 8.57….8.58….9.00….9.03…..No, it definitely wasn’t going to happen, he was certain of it.
“Come on princess,” he stood up, “perhaps you got the day muddled.”
He offered his hand, trying to pull her up to standing, but she wriggled away from his grip and refused to budge, eyes glued to the screen. Then, sure enough, an announcer introduced a new show called
Taste of the Place.
The opening titles started running, a montage of fast-cut images which interlaced visuals of different dishes from around the globe with animated shots of both Claire and a preppy-looking all-American male TV Presenter examining food and tucking in.