Page 115 of Let’s Make a Scene

“Noted.” Cynthie smiles faintly.

“When they met, they were both married to other people.” I nip around the side of a lorry, let the car build up some speed. “They left their spouses and shacked up together. Within a month or two my mum was pregnant with me. They pushed through their respective divorces and got married, then when I was two, they split up for the first time.”

“The first time? How many times have they split up?”

I wrinkle my forehead, thinking about it. “Three? No.” I snap my fingers, “Four. I was forgetting the brief liaison with the Russian countess.”

“Wow.” She sounds dazed.

“It’s certainly been a journey,” I say drily. “They actually divorced after the first time, then they got back together, remarried, and had Lee. Anyway,” I continue, “they’ve both had incredible careers. Mum won the Best Supporting Actress Oscar about ten years ago; Dad has one too, but his is honorary and it pisses him off, so don’t mention it.” I smirk. “Mum’s still working, though not as much, and Dad is supposedly retired. I heard they’re trying to talk him into filming Lear.”

“But Lee never considered going into the family business?”

I grin. “No, definitely not. She took a pretty different path. Very academic.”

“Are the two of you close?”

I consider the question as I take the turn off the motorway. “I mean, I love her, but I wouldn’t say we’re very close, no,” I say finally. “She’s six years younger than me, which is a big age gap when you’re kids, isn’t it? And I went away to boarding school when I was twelve and she was six. Then I went straight from school to RADA, so we didn’t spend a huge amount of time together. Plus…” I hesitate. “She’s not the easiest person to get to know.”

“What does that mean?”

“Just that she’s quiet, a bit self-contained. You’ll see.”

“It must have been hard for her when you went off to school,” Cynthie says quietly.

“Well, she had Gran,” I reply, defensive because it’s a thought that I might have had myself once or twice.

“Ah yes, your granny who buys you handkerchiefs.”

My mouth pulls up again. “My mum’s mother. Thanks to the actual shit show that was our parents’ marriage, Gran basically raised us. Lee lives with her now, as her sort of unofficial carer—not that Gran would let you get away with calling her that.”

“Will she be at lunch too?” Cynthie sounds hopeful.

I laugh. “I doubt it, she has the busiest social life of anyone you’ve ever met. Also, she can’t stand my dad, so to be honest it’d just add one more agent of chaos into the mix if she did turn up.” I glance at her. “You can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I’m not scared,” Cynthie says with what I can’t help but feel is misplaced confidence.

“You say that now—”

“Please.” Cynthie tosses her head. “You think you’re the only one with a dysfunctional family?” She raises her eyebrows. “Need I remind you, I’m basically my mother’s secret love child?”

“I wasn’t sure if you remembered telling me all of that,” I admit. “Have you been in touch with her since?”

“No.” Cynthie sighs. “I suppose you have to give her credit for not coming out of the woodwork when I got famous.”

“I’m not sure I’d give her credit for anything, actually,” I say sharply, accidentally briefly turning on the windshield wipers instead of signaling.

“Fair enough,” Cynthie replies, and however offhand she sounds, I know she’s been hurt, and badly. “At least we can take solace in the fact that she has to watch me achieve her dreams from a distance. That’s some sweet revenge, right?”

“She never got to know you, Cyn. That’s her loss.”

Cynthie’s throat bobs. “I don’t know about that—my dad had plenty of opportunities, and he didn’t take them either.”

“Are you in touch with him?” I ask, worried I already know the answer.

“He died a couple of years ago,” Cynthie says quietly. “Car accident.”

“Bloody hell,” I exhale.