Sophie Kinsella - Remember Me?

Filled with adrenaline, I grab the folder, not caring how it smells, and rush out of the room, taking the stairs two steps at a time.

“Got it?” Jon is waiting at the bottom of the stairs.

“Yes!” A smile licks across my face. “It’s brilliant! It’s a brilliant idea!”

“It was your idea.”

“Really?” I feel a glow of pride, which I try to quell. “You know, this is what we needed all along. This is what we should have been doing. If this works out, they can’t give up carpeting. They’d be mad.”

A dog jumps up and tries to chew my hair, but even that can’t dent my mood. I can’t believe I put together this deal. Me, Lexi! I can’t wait to tell everyone-

“Now!” Mum is approaching bearing a tray of coffee cups. “I can at least offer you a cup of coffee and a biscuit.”

“Really, Mum, it’s okay,” I say. “I’m afraid we have to dash off-”

“I’d like a coffee,” says Jon pleasantly.

He what? Shooting him daggers, I follow him into the sitting room and we sit down on a faded sofa. Jon takes his seat like he feels totally at home there. Maybe he does.

“So, Lexi was just talking about piecing her life together,” he says, crunching a biscuit. “And I thought, maybe knowing the events that happened at her dad’s funeral would help.”

“Well, of course, losing a parent is always traumatic…” Mum is focused on breaking a biscuit in two. “Here you are, Ophelia.” She feeds half to a whippet.

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” Jon says. “I’m talking about the other events.”

“Other events?” Mum looks vague. “Now, Raphael, that’s naughty! Coffee, Lexi?”

The dogs are all over the biscuit plate, slobbering and grabbing. Are we supposed to eat those now?

“Lexi doesn’t seem to have the fullest of pictures,” Jon persists.

“Smoky, it’s not your turn…”

“Stop talking to the fucking dogs!” Jon’s voice makes me leap off my seat.

Mum looks almost too shocked to speak. Or even move.

“This is your child.” Jon gestures at me. “Not that.” He jerks a thumb at a dog and gets up from the sofa in an abrupt movement. Both Mum and I gaze up at him, transfixed, as he walks over to the fireplace, ruffling his hair, ignoring the dogs clustering around him. “Now, I care about your daughter. She may not realize it, but I do.” He focuses directly on Mum. “Maybe you want to get through life in a state of denial. Maybe it helps you. But it doesn’t help Lexi.”

“What are you talking about?” I say helplessly. “Mum, what happened at the funeral?”

Mum’s hands are fluttering around her face as though to protect herself. “It was rather…unpleasant.”

“Life can be unpleasant,” Jon says bluntly. “It’s even more unpleasant if you don’t know about it. And if you don’t tell Lexi, I will. Because she told me, you see.” He crunches the last of his biscuit.

“All right! What happened was…” Mum’s voice descends into a whisper.

“What?”

“The bailiffs came!” Her cheeks are growing pink with distress. “Right in the middle of the party.”

“Bailiffs? But…”

“They came with no warning. Five of them.” She’s staring straight ahead, stroking the dog on her lap with an obsessive repetitive motion. “They wanted to repossess the house. Take all the furniture, everything. It turned out your father hadn’t been…totally honest with me. Or anybody.”

“Show her the second DVD,” says Jon. “Don’t tell me you don’t know where it is.”

There’s a pause, then without looking at either of us, Mum gets up, roots in a drawer, and finds a blank, shiny disc. She puts it into the machine and the three of us sit back.

“Darlings.” Dad is on the screen again, in the same room as in the other DVD, in the same plushy dressing gown. The same charming twinkle as he faces the camera. “If you’re watching this, I’ve popped it. And there’s something you should know. But this one’s not for…public consumption, shall we say.” He takes a deep puff on his cigar, frowning regretfully. “There’s been a bit of a catastrophe on the old moolah front. Didn’t mean to land you in it. You girls are clever-you’ll find a way to sort it out.” He considers for a moment. “But if you’re stuck, ask old Dickie Hawford. He should be good for a bit. Cheers, m’dears.” He lifts his glass up-then the screen goes dark. I wheel around to Mum.

“What did he mean, ‘catastrophe’?”

“He meant he’d remortgaged the entire house.” Her voice is trembling. “That was his real message. That DVD arrived in the post a week after the funeral. But it was too late! The bailiffs had visited! What were we supposed to do?” She’s stroking the whippet harder and harder, until, with a sudden yelp, it escapes from her grasp.

“So…what did we do?”

“We would have had to sell up. Move to another area. Amy would have been taken out of school…” Her hands are fluttering around her face again. “So my brother very kindly stepped in. And so did my sister. And…and so did you. You said you’d pay off the mortgage. As much as you could afford.”

“Me?”

I sink back into the sofa, my mind reeling with shock, trying to fit this into the picture. I agreed to pay off Dad’s debts.

“Is it an offshore mortgage?” I say suddenly. “Is the bank called Uni…something?”

She nods. “Most of Daddy’s dealings were offshore. Trying to avoid the tax man. I don’t know why he couldn’t just be honest-”

“Said the woman who kept her daughter in the dark!” expostulates Jon. “How can you even say that?”

I can’t help catching some of his exasperation.

“Mum, you knew I couldn’t remember the funeral. You didn’t tell me any of this. Can’t you see how it might have…made things clearer for me? I had no idea where that money was going.”

“It’s been very difficult!” Mum’s eyes are swiveling from side to side. “I’ve been trying to keep it quiet for Amy’s sake.”

“But-” I break off as something else even darker occurs to me. “Mum…I have another question. Was Dad ever in prison?”

Mum winces as though I’ve trodden on her toe.

“Briefly, darling. A long time ago…It was a misunderstanding. Let’s not dwell on that. I’ll make some more coffee.”

“No!” In frustration I leap to my feet and stand right in front of her, trying to get her single-minded attention. “Mum, listen! You can’t just live in a bubble, pretending nothing’s happened. Amy’s right! You have to break out of this…this time warp.”

“Lexi!” Mum says sharply, but I ignore her.

“Amy heard about Dad going to prison. She got the idea it’s cool. No wonder she’s been getting in so much trouble… Jesus!” Suddenly the pieces of my life are slotting together like a Tetris puzzle. “That’s why I suddenly got ambitious. That’s why I was so single-minded. That funeral changed everything.”

“You told me what happened,” Jon says. “When the bailiffs arrived, she went to bits.” He glances scornfully at Mum. “You had to hold them off, Lexi; you had to make the decisions. You took it all on yourself.”

“Stop looking at me as though it’s all my fault!” Mum suddenly cries out, her voice shrill and quivering. “Stop heaping blame on me! You have no idea about my life, none! Your father, that man-”

She breaks off, the words hanging in the air, and I catch my breath as her blue eyes meet mine. For the first time that I can remember, my mother sounds…true.

The room is totally still. I hardly dare speak.

“What about Dad?” My sotto voce whisper still feels too loud. “Mum, tell me.”

But it’s too late. Already the moment’s over. Mum’s eyes are shifting sideways, avoiding me. With a sudden pang I see her as though for the first time: her hair girlish in its Alice band, her hands wrinkled, Dad’s ring still on her finger. Even as I watch, she’s feeling for a dog’s head and starting to pat it.