Cerys reached for one of the ten Curly Wurlys that she’d found in the box. “Don’t call my favourite chocolate and caramel silly.”
“Don’t be eating them before your breakfast.”
Cerys laughed. “Too late. I already ate one.”
Her mum clumsily turned the camera around. “It’s confusing my brain that it’s still early for you while it’s lunchtime here. I’ve got a prawn cocktail from Marks & Spencer, and a large scone with clotted cream and jam for dessert.”
“Looks delicious.” Cerys explained what she’d made as she unscrewed the lid on the prosecco bottle and added it to the half-filled glass of orange juice. “I’ve got all this, and then I’m going for a massage and my nails done. Zoe sent me a gift certificate. I’m going to fall asleep in a food coma.”
“That’s so lovely of Zoe to remember. I bet she’s missing you.” Her mum made her drink, then tilted her glass towards the screen. “Cheers. Happy birthday, my baby girl.”
Cerys tucked into her oats, adding some chopped strawberries as a nod to making it healthy. “We chat every other day or so.”
“How are things with Jimmy?” Siân asked between bites.
“I’m hoping he’s just adjusting to me being around. But I can’t help but think he doesn’t want me here.”
“What’s he done now?”
“Did I already tell you he makes me call him Jimmy because he thinks Dad makes him sound old? And I feel like I’m in the way in the studio. I’ve not used any of my skills yet. Not really. Although, he’s fine with me using an empty studio to practice by recording my own things. But we have this great new band in right now, and I have so many ideas, and he’s just not interested in any of them.”
Siân sighed. “You know, I’ve tried not to badmouth your dad. But . . . he always needed things to be his way. When we were dating, he always picked where we ate, what we did, and where we visited; he never asked me. And I kind of thought it was romantic, at the time. This older man wanting to look after me. I never thought to question it. He doesn’t really want anybody else’s opinion. He never did. I’m sure he has his way of doing things now.”
Cerys nodded. “I get that. And he’s also been really successful without anybody else’s opinion. But how do I get him to understand I want to learn? I need to prove to the bank I can do this. I need a great reference from both Jimmy and perhaps a big-name band like Sad Fridays to vouch for my skills. But I also want to shoot the shit with him and do things and have him tell me how I could do it better, because I really do want to be as good as he is.”
Siân took a sip of her Buck’s Fizz. “I think you need to be honest with him and explain why you came. Tell him you need experience to meet your goals. And tell him that he isn’t giving you the chance to do any of it right now.”
“In fairness, he’s taking me out to dinner tonight. Well, actually, I asked him yesterday if he’d have dinner with me because it’s my birthday, and he agreed. Said he’d pick the restaurant, et cetera. He picked somewhere really fancy, so it’s a good job I brought my black dress with me.”
“Well, that’s nice of him. Perhaps wait until he’s had a glass of wine and some nice food, and then ask him about the music side of things.”
“That’s a good idea.”
And that evening, as she sat in the restaurant, waiting for Jimmy to arrive, she knew exactly what she was going to say.
Except he never showed.
Eventually, more embarrassed than she could handle, she’d ordered an appetiser and entree. She called him three times and checked her own phone’s reception four times to confirm she hadn’t missed any calls. She’d even asked the server if her father had called the restaurant.
He hadn’t.
She looked down at the perfectly presented tuna on a bed of rice noodles.
“Okay, Cerys,” she muttered. “Let’s reframe this.”
It was her birthday. She’d meditated. Her mum had sent her lovely gifts. The massage she’d picked using the gift card from Zoe had been wonderful, and her nails were painted in a pretty pale pink. For once, her winged eyeliner looked even. And while she’d worried that her black dress might be a little tight, it had fit way better than she remembered. The lovely Chablis she’d ordered tasted delightful, and the food was first-class.
She had a choice. To sit here and fume at her father, or she could put all thoughts of him to one side and enjoy the rest of the evening. After three deep breaths, and a mental reminder that a father was a societal construct that she’d been fine without all these years, she had a sip of wine and then tucked into her tuna.
By the time Cerys was done and put her knife and fork down on the plate, she was resolved. She’d expense her father for the meal. It hadn’t been her idea to go to the fancy restaurant where even the house wine was twenty dollars a glass.
If he wanted things to be only business, she’d roll that way.
She’d just placed her glass back on the table when the chair opposite her moved suddenly and Jase sat down on it. “Why are you eating alone, Baby Bexter?”
Cerys looked over towards the doorway, then scanned the restaurant for the rest of the band. “Where did you come from?”
“Manchester, on an airplane. I’m serious, why are you sitting here alone?”
“Perhaps I’m not. Perhaps my date is currently in the bathroom.”
Jase reached for her glass of wine and took a gulp, then shuddered. “Don’t like white wine. I don’t know why I did that.”
A server approached. “Can I get something for your guest?”
“No, he’s just leaving.”
“I’ll have a pint of whatever’s on draught,” Jase said, his eyes on hers, daring her to say something different.
“Fine. Yes, a pint. And I think I’m going to need another glass of wine.” Cerys watched the server head to the bar. “I’m serious, what are you doing here?”
“I’m waiting for you to tell me why you are here alone.”
They glared at each other for a moment until the server arrived. He placed the wine down first, then the beer. “Because it’s your birthday, this drink is on the house,” the server said.
“Birthday?” Jase said. “Why on earth are you sitting here alone on your birthday?”
Cerys took a large gulp of her wine. “Have you met my dad?”
Jase leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “He left you here alone?”
She laughed sadly. “Never even showed.”
“Cerys.” The sympathy in his tone made her chest tighten.
“Yes. Well. Probably tied up in the recording studio or something.”
“Tell me he called you. Tell me he left his credit card number or something.”
She cricked her neck from left to right, knowing full well that it was the extra glass of wine that would make her share secrets she wanted to keep hidden. “It’s not as big a deal as it sounds. I had a lovely day thanks to Mum and a friend. Then I got to put on a nice dress and eat some lovely ahi tuna cooked to perfection.”
Wait. Why was she being so forthcoming with information to a virtual stranger?