Sugar Daddies (35 page)

“I’m sure things weren’t like that,” I said. “I’m sure that isn’t how your father intended them.”

She shook her head. “She turned up and it was all about Katie, sweet little Katie. He was working too hard to spend time with us, but when it was time to pick up little Katie he was always right there, driving over to get her and bringing her back like a little doll.
Katie, Katie, Katie.
Did Katie have a good time? Did you play nicely? Did you share?” She scowled. “And what about me?! What about
me
having a good time?”

The idea that Verity was shunned in favour of a younger sister she hadn’t known of until she was ten was quite ridiculous, I was certain of it, but Verity’s eyes weren’t lying. Her outburst was raw and real, and full of bitterness.

Whatever the real situation was, this was how she’d seen it. How she still saw it.

“Now she’s better than me at the office, and Dad will love her even more!”

I shook my head. “No. He won’t. He loves both of you.”

“I wanted to do better than her! That way he’d know I was better than her! Even if I’m not the pretty one with blonde hair! Even if I’m not the cutest one! The sweetest one!” The tears came thick and fast. “She’s… she’s… she’s better than me!”

So much I wanted to say. So many things to put her outlook in perspective, but I decided against it. The girl was wired and hysterical, far too worked up to be rational.

I couldn’t talk sense into her about her childhood post Katie, not just like that, but I could help her make the best of things now.

I took her elbow, pulled her to her feet, and for the first time in my life I reached out to Verity Faverley and wrapped my arm around her shoulders while she cried.

“Nobody is better than anyone,” I said. “We’re all just people.”

“She is…”

“She probably feels the same about you, have you ever thought about that?”

She shook her head. “She doesn’t. She wants all my things, my dad, too.”

I smiled. “I know for a fact that isn’t true,” I said. “She’s just trying to do her job so she can go and meet that horse whisperer guy, just the same as you are.”

“You would say that,” she said. “You love her, too. It’s obvious. You can’t stop staring at her.” Her lip went again. “Even gay men love perfect little Katie.”

I didn’t attempt to explain or deny, just let out a sigh, and hugged her a little bit tighter. “I’ll help,” I said. “Monday morning we’ll do some extra coaching.”

“We will?” she said.

“We will. But this has to stop, all this hate and bitterness, for both of you.”

“But she…”

“No,” I said. “It has to stop.” I met her eyes, forced her to meet my gaze. “Say you’ll try.”

“I don’t think I can…”

“Try, Verity, you just have to
try.
That’s all. Just
try.
Give it a shot
.
”

She held off for long seconds, halfway between scowling and sobbing, and then she sighed, her lip trembling.

“Alright,” she said. “I’ll
try
. Just make sure I sell something so Dad doesn’t hate me.” Her tone softened. “Please.”

I held out my hand. “That’s a deal,” I said.

“Aren’t you going to open that?” I tipped my head towards the golden envelope she’d tossed on the dashboard like junk mail.

She shrugged. “Dunno. Probably not.”

I turned out of the business park, pulling into the traffic queue. Rush hour. Gridlock. “You earned it, you should open it.”

“I don’t want
anything
from him. Except my Harrison Gables trip. That’s the only reason I’m here.”

“The
only
reason?” I shot her a smile. “You’re telling me you didn’t enjoy today just a little bit? Didn’t enjoy putting your ticks on the board?” I paused. “Don’t you enjoy our little lunchtime chats?”

She tutted at me. “Alright,
yes
, I enjoy
some
things. I still don’t want his shitty envelope, though.”

“Fine,” I said, and reached over to take it. “I’ll save it for Monday, give it to the next person to get a tick on the board.” She shot me a look and it said it all. I laughed, dropped it in her lap. “Open it,” I said.

She poked her tongue out, and then she opened it.

“Well?” I prompted.

She cast it back onto the dash. “Vouchers. Some posh clothes shop I’ll never visit in a million years.”

“Why won’t you?”

“It’s not me.”

“Why isn’t it?”

She shrugged. “It’s just not. I’m not Verity. I don’t do all polished and preened and pompous.”

“You don’t do pompous,” I agreed. “Polished and preened, however. You do those very nicely.”

“Thanks.” She smiled. “I’m still not going.”

I didn’t push it, just smiled to myself as she took the voucher from the dash and slipped it into her bag. “He’s very proud of you.” I looked over at her. “As am I.”

“My second call was lucky.”

I shook my head. “No, it wasn’t. I heard it.”

“You did?”

“I did.” I reached over and squeezed her knee. “I mean it, Katie, I’m very proud. You should be, too.”

“You helped me,” she said. “A lot. Thanks.”

“I helped everyone, but it was you who put those ticks on the board.
You
.”

Finally, for the first time since the awkward hug with her father, she
gave me a proper smile. It started at her eyes and went all the way down to the fingers that squeezed mine. “I did it, I really did it, didn’t I?”

“You did, yes.”

“And Verity didn’t.”

The warmth in my gut turned cold. “This isn’t about Verity, this is about you.”

“I know,” she said. “But still.
I
did and
she
didn’t. I bet she’s seething. I bet she can’t believe the
idiot
sister nailed it and she didn’t.”

I edged the car forward as the traffic lights changed up ahead, debated how much to say. “Verity has her issues, Katie, but I don’t believe for a second she’s written you off as an idiot. Far from it.”

“Oh, she has,” she said. “It’s all she’s ever said to me.
Stupid, pathetic, nobody wants you. Idiot.
”

“Plenty of people have a front. It’s often the most insecure of us who lash out the hardest.”

She laughed. “Verity?! Insecure?! No way. She’s so full of herself I’m surprised she fits her pouty little head through the door.”

“She didn’t seem so full of herself this afternoon, Katie. She was quite upset.”

I watched her reactions, watched her shoulders tense up and her lips tighten. “Good. Maybe it brought her down a peg or two.”

“Stop,” I said. “You aren’t a bitter person. Don’t let success make you someone you’re not. You’re so much better than that.”

She looked like I’d struck her. “I didn’t… I’m not… that’s not what I meant…” She turned her shoulders towards me. “It’s just her, Carl, she makes me like this. I’m not gloating. I’d never gloat.”

I didn’t say a word, just waited, watching the cogs turning behind her pretty eyes.

“She was upset?”

“She’s taken it hard, not getting a lead this week. She worked for it, just the same as everyone else did. Just the same as you did.”

“That’s what she said? That she’s upset about not getting a lead in?”

“Amongst other things.”

She turned her attention back to the road in front. “She’s manipulative, game playing, spoiled. She’s never sincere. She’ll say whatever she wants you to hear.”

“I’m a bit long in the tooth to be taken in by all that, Katie. Give me some credit.”

“I know,” she said. “It’s just her. I know her.”

“As do I.”

She sighed. “I know. Sorry.”

I’d ruined her mood. I could see it in her posture, in her eyes. It was the last thing I’d wanted. I reached out, smoothed a stray tuft of hair behind her ear. “Enough of all that,” I said. “It’s your special day. What do you want to do to celebrate? I’ll take you anywhere, do anything you want. My treat.”

Her smile came back. “You will?”

“It will be my pleasure.”

I should have guessed her response a clear mile away.

“Samson,” she said. “I’d like to see my furry boy. I’ve missed him so much.” My stomach panged to see the emotion in her eyes. “I could get some riding in, if we’re quick.”

“As the lady wishes,” I said.

We called Rick to see if he could join us, but he was still on his way back from a client sign-off in Weston.

Fuck,
he groaned.
One day out and it’s the day I have to miss the big celebration
.

“We’ll celebrate later,” Katie said. “No biggie.”

It will be a biggie
, he said, and his voice was dripping dirty. I watched her shift in her seat, and it made my dick hard.

I smiled as the call wrapped up.

“Just us, then.”

“Just us.” She smiled back. “Hope you won’t be too bored.”

“I’ll be far from bored,” I said. I indicated to change lanes, aiming to cut out the Cheltenham traffic seeing as we didn’t have to swing by the house for Rick. “Do you have some clothes, at the stable? It’ll save time.”

She grinned as the traffic eased off, our route clearing. “We can stop at mine, it won’t take a minute. I can grab some jodhpurs. I have another pair of boots there.” She paused, stared out of the window. “Mum will be home.”

“Is that a problem? I can wait in the car.”

She shook her head. “You don’t have to. Unless you want to.”

The idea of meeting her mother gave me a strange thrill. I shot her a smirk. “Will I do? Am I dressed well enough to impress?”

She smirked back, reached over to smooth my tie
. “Always.”

Katie lived on a regular little street in Much Arlock. A row of terraced houses with matching front doors and little front gardens. Hers was on the end. Another old Ford was parked outside, but this one was smaller. Her mother’s I guessed.

My hands were surprisingly clammy as I parked up behind it.

Katie unclipped her seatbelt and jumped out. “I’ll be a minute,” she said, grinning at me through the open door. “Are you coming?”

Yes, I was coming.

I followed her to the front door, looking all around me as she fumbled with a jangle of keys. She pushed the door open with a creak.

“Mum, it’s me, just grabbing some clothes!” she called. She kicked off her heels and dumped the keys on the side.

It was a nice enough place. A worn green carpet along the hallway. A couple of kid’s paintings in frames on the wall.
Katie Smith, age 7. Katie Smith, age 9.
One that was just a tiny handprint.
Katie Smith, age 3.
There was also a framed photograph,
Mum and Me
, the frame said. Katie, smiling in a crocheted cardigan, one of those colourful threaded braids in her hair. Her arm
around a woman who looked just like her. I knew the place. I’d been there myself, my only holiday. I recognised the waterslide in the background.