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Yeah, let’s not even go there.

“And I take it you’re the… Boyfriend,” she twisted her lips as though she had said the word “nazi”. I chuckled to myself, seeing Rebecca all over again. Iris had the same perfected look of superiority, and the same polite, yet “eat shit” tone of voice.

“Iris,” Rachel replied with a nod, pushing past her without waiting to be invited inside. The woman stumbled back, as though she was scared to have Rachel touch her and then turned to me with a vicious glare.

Fuck it, if this is what we’re doing, we’re doing it.

I grinned at her, giving her a small salute, and pushed past her myself, deliberately widening my stance to invade her personal space.

“Come on in, why don’t you?” She snapped, closing the door behind us.

“We all knew we were coming, so I’m not about to stand on your doorstep whilst you wield some weird power play and force us into small talk before you let us in. I’ve participated in enough of your tests to recognise the start of one. Not today, Iris. I take it everyone else is in the front room?” She didn’t wait for a response. She pushed open the door and went into the room, sitting on the sofa nearest the window.

I didn’t sit down. Instead, I went to stand near Rachel, but kept on my feet, knowing the sheer size of me was enough to hold Iris back for now.

“Your dad is upstairs. He’ll be down in a moment. Tea?” she asked, aiming her question at neither of us.

“I’ll take a beer,” I said after a pause.

“I offered a tea.”

“I said I’ll take a beer,” I glared at her.

She gave me a pitiful smile. “A beer it is. Hardly surprising. Do you want a beer too, Rachel? How about a vodka? Gin and tonic?”

“I had no idea you had become such an alcoholic. I always knew years of having a stick up your ass would result in this. But a tea would be fine, thank you. Do you need me to make it, or have you got your withdrawal shakes under control?”

Iris made a “hmm” noise and then disappeared into the kitchen. Rachel watched her retreat, as though she didn’t dare take her eyes off her for a second and then got up to look around the room.

“Iris is just like my mother,” Rachel said, picking a picture up off the mantle around the fire. “She never changes a thing. Same old boring beige shit everywhere.”

“Who’s that?” I asked, nodding at the person in the photo.

“Stock image. Iris says they look nicer than any picture the family has ever taken.”

“Right…” I murmured. “She realises that’s psychotic, yeah?”

“She knows,” she shrugged. “It’s just her way of punishing everyone for not living up to her perfect standards. We don’t get to be memorialised forever on her shitty fireplace.”

“Give me that,” I grinned at her, holding my hand out for the photo. She handed it to me without hesitation. I unscrewed the back of it, popped the photo out, and slipped the pen out of my jacket pocket. “Porn-stache or full-on devil goatee?” I asked Rachel, the pen lid between my teeth.

“Porn-stache with devil horns. Combine the two. Let’s mix things up,” she grinned back. I quickly drew what she asked, replaced the photo, and handed it back to Rachel to observe my handiwork.

“He looks a lot like my uncle Richard with that stache.”

“Husband?”

“No, milkman,” she grinned slyly as she replaced the photo, just as the door to the front room opened.

“You still spreading rumours that Iris was knocking off with the milkman, my girl?” came a soft but deep voice. I snapped my eyes up to the man it belonged to and immediately held my breath.

He had blonde hair, a shade or two darker than Rachel, as well as the same vivid green eyes. Eyes that held a warm, loving gleam as he looked at his daughter, even if his body was rigid with nerves.

“Oh my God,” Rachel breathed, already closing the distance between them. “It’s good to see you, Dad,” she murmured, wrapping her arms around his waist. She tucked her head under his chin, and he closed his eyes, hiding the tears that immediately flooded them as he rested his head on top of hers. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you, too, sweetheart,” he sniffed. “Let me look at you,” he grinned as he opened his eyes, unable to stop the tears that spilled over his lower lashes. “Where has my little girl gone? And what’s this?” he said, picking up a strand of red hair.

“Mother loves it,” Rachel half laughed, half sobbed, bringing up her arm to wipe her tears on the back of her hand.

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