Page 84 of Always Alchemy

My wife’s jaw drops. ‘Anton! You can’t possibly wish that for your daughter!’

I shrug, and she presses on.

‘You, more than anyone, know how important a great sex life is. It’s really important that they set themselves up for thaton their terms.’

I blow out a breath and pinch the bridge of my nose. ‘I’mentitled to find your arguments intellectually flawless and still want to dig my heels in,’ I say grumpily.

‘Yes, you are,’ she says, her tone placatory. She twists the lid off her moisturiser and dabs some onto her fingertip. I watch as she dots it around her face and begins to rub it in.

‘What’s the bottom line?’ she asks finally.

‘Thebottom lineis that there’s a world of difference between accepting that my daughters are sexually active and green-lighting something as overt, and kinky, and… fucking…debauchedas a fucking sex club.’

‘You’re right, of course. I did try to scare them off—I told them to imagine every guy at the Arts Club naked and hitting on them—but Annabel was like a dog with a bone.’

I groan. ‘Please don’t use any word remotely relating tobonerin the same sentence as Annabel’s name during this conversation.’

She purses her lips. ‘You’re being ridiculous.’

‘The problem with Annabel,’ I muse aloud, ‘is that she always has to think everything is her idea. Won’t have anyone else telling her no.’

‘Good gracious. I wonder where she got that gene from.’

I ignore her jibe. There are no genetic mysteries where Annabel is concerned, loath as I am to admit it. She’s also very like my eldest, Felix, and I’m uncomfortably aware as I continue this conversation of quite how flippant and unruffled I was when we fast-tracked Felix’s membership to Alchemy New York a few years ago.

‘So how do we put her off?’ I ask. ‘I know! We close the club to members one night and hire a couple of hundred of the most physically repellent actors we can find. She’ll come running straight home.’

‘Or just arrange to be there the same night,’ my wife says gleefully, cold, callous woman that she is. ‘If she spots oneglimpse of her ancient father in a sex club she’ll run for the hills.’

I shudder. ‘Jesus Christ. Just thinking about it gives me the heebie-jeebies.’

Gen laughs. ‘Do you know what she suggested? That I tell you they both requested jobs as hosts, and then throw in that they’ll just take a plain old membership. She figured you’d be so relieved you’d roll over.’

‘How the fuck I’m supposed to get to sixty without a heart attack, I don’t know.’ That fucking girl will be the death of me.

Gen comes to stand in front of me, sliding her hands around my neck. She’s fragrant and glowing and gorgeous. ‘Poor baby.’

‘Why this can’t just be a hard no I’m not sure,’ I tell her. ‘We don’t owe them an explanation. It’s off limits and that’s that. They’re so bloody entitled.’

‘That’s not fair. You’ve done a great job with them. They’re wonderful girls. And of course, a hard and final no is an option.’ She takes a breath, like she’s steeling to deliver a lesson. ‘I have a very different perspective from you. I was horrified too, but I can also appreciate that a place like Alchemy, with all the success we’ve had refining the format and the measures we’ve put in place, might just be the best of a bad lot in terms of channels through which your girls can explore what they need to explore in a way that’s safe and, hopefully, very life affirming.’

The really awful thing, the worst thing about this entire conversation, is that the non-lizard part of my brain knows my wife is right. This is her turf. This is the hill she’d die on. I’m so proud of everything she and the guys have built, and I’d stand by it every fucking day, and I’m a loathsome hypocrite if I don’t allow my youngest daughtersthe same opportunities I allowed Felix without a second thought.

‘Permission to kit the entire fucking place out with our own security guards?’ I ask, sagging against her and gently removing her hair clip so her beautiful pale hair falls over my face, obliterating the world and its headaches.

She laughs and wraps her arms around me. ‘Maybe one or two. Now come to bed.’

30

FRENCH BY NAME, FRENCH BY NATURE

MADDY

Thirty feels better than I thought.

But why wouldn’t it?

The air under this canopy of pine trees is cool enough to be considered balmy, and its faint breeze carries the scent of fertile undergrowth. Even in summer, this area of the Côte d’Azur is pretty verdant. Shouts of effort and triumph carry over from the tennis court, where Stella is hopefully thrashing Zach. And, best of all, the warm and slightly sticky skin of our youngest, three-year-old Nicky, is pressed up tight against mine in this hammock.

---