Free In Cold Daylight by Pauline Rowson

Faye joined me and looked pointedly at the glass. I thought if she so much as utters one word about my drinking so help me I’ll throw the bloody glass at her. She opened her mouth to speak but must have seen the warning in my expression because she closed it again and moved across to the cooker.
    ‘I can put a pizza in the oven if you’re hungry.
    I ate lunchtime at a client meeting.’
    Food was the last thing on my mind. I could have been killed. I very nearly was. Where the hell had that Mercedes come from? It must have shot out of a side road. Had it been waiting there for me? But no, that was ridiculous.
    ‘Did you hear me, Adam?’
    ‘I’m not hungry,’ I muttered, tossing back the rest of the whisky, feeling the warmth slide down my throat and wrap itself around my heart. It stilled my nerves but not my racing mind. Now I was beginning to settle down I wanted to think through the incident rationally and calmly. First though I had a job to do. I guessed it wasn’t going to be easy but I couldn’t put it off any longer. I had to tell Faye about my father. If I didn’t then Faye might find out from Simon. How could I guarantee that she wouldn’t be here when he or Harriet called about the arrangements for the funeral?
    I poured myself another whisky. Faye tutted. I said, ‘ Before you say anything about this,’ I waved the glass at her, ‘there’s something you should know.’ The words froze in my throat. It wasn’t that I was so upset that I couldn’t speak; I just didn’t know how to begin to tell her something that I should have spoken about ten years ago, when we first met.
    My silence only served to increase her agitation. ‘Something’s gone wrong with the exhibition?’ I heard the alarm in her voice.
    ‘It’s not the exhibition. I’ve just returned from London…’
    ‘But you never go to London, you hate it there.’
    She was looking at me now with a mixture of trepidation and anger.
    ‘I had no choice. My father’s dead.’
    ‘You haven’t got a father.’
    ‘I have. And a brother, called Simon. My father passed away this afternoon.’
    For once I had rendered her speechless. I tossed back the whisky. ‘I didn’t tell you because I’ve been estranged from my family for fifteen years.’
    I held my breath waiting for her to ask why.
    There was no way I was going to tell her about Alison or my breakdown. Eventually, she would find out. Husbands shouldn’t have secrets from their wives, least not like mine. It wasn’t right not if you really loved one another…
    She said, ‘Why didn’t you tell me this before?
    Why lie to me?’
    ‘I didn’t mean to lie. I just didn’t want to speak about it. I had cut myself off from them.’
    ‘What else haven’t you told me?’
    Quite a lot, I thought, but didn’t say. She hadn’t offered her condolences but I didn’t hold that against her. My surprising news had probably driven it from her mind, or at least that’s what I told myself.
    ‘My father has left everything to Simon.’ I could see she was grappling with this new information. ‘I shall attend the funeral and that will be it.’
    ‘How much has he left?’
    ‘Does it matter?’
    ‘Well of course it does. You’re his son.’
    ‘I don’t know.’
    ‘Where in London did he live?’
    ‘Belgravia.’
    ‘Those houses are worth a fortune!’
    ‘It’s not in a very good state of repair.’
    ‘You can’t let your brother take everything, that’s not fair. You should have told me about your family before. You’ve as much right to your father’s money as he has. Just think what we could do with it.’
    I could feel my anger rising. ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’
    ‘You’re going to have to, Adam. With that kind of money we could buy a decent apartment in London.’
    ‘I don’t want an apartment in London.’
    ‘You said that after this exhibition you’d consider it. Here’s a golden opportunity and you’re going to let it go past,’ she said