Page 103 of Take Me Away

My laugh is the most natural sound I’ve made in years. It almost sounds alien as it dances from me and into the Harding kitchen. ‘You are too cute. Well, anyway, I’ve upset some very important people; they might not want me to make another movie.’

Maisie cocks her head and it occurs to me for the first time what she might have heard – at school, in the playground. Surely nothing, right? She’s eight.

She shrugs a little lift of her shoulders. ‘Well, I think you should. But you still have to come home to see us. You could use your private jet.’

I snort a laugh. ‘I do not have a private jet. And anyway, I live in London most of the time.’

Her nose wrinkles. ‘I’ve never been. Dad says it smells.’

I side-eye her father. I have no idea if he’s ever been back to London after our visit that fateful day for my meeting with Vale. He’s very busy looking at his wilting stir-fry so I can’t catch a read of his expression.

‘You get used to the smell.’

Maisie nods. ‘Perfect. I think I’ll like it.’

Kit rolls his eyes and gives a shake of his head at his presumptuous daughter, but something settles in my chest – a quiet, dangerous contentment that feels too much like belonging.

‘Ha! Park Lane with a hotel!’ Maisie crows, throwing her hands up in victory. ‘Pay up, Dad!’

Kit groans, counting his dwindling Monopoly cash. ‘This is highway robbery.’

‘It’s the rules,’ she corrects, sitting up straighter. ‘You landed on my property, you gotta pay!’

‘When did you get so bossy about board games?’

‘I’m not bossy, I’m the banker,’ she says, holding out her hand. ‘Also, I’m totally winning.’

‘I can see that,’ Kit mutters, handing over most of his remaining money. He turns to me, his knee bumping mine under the coffee table. ‘A little help here? She’s ruthless.’

I study my own meagre holdings. ‘Sorry, I’m one bad roll away from bankruptcy myself. Your daughter’s a shark.’

‘Told you we should’ve played Snap,’ Kit grumbles.

Maisie rolls the dice again, moving her little silver dog around the board with the confidence of a casino boss. ‘Your turn, Isla.’

I roll, edge past Pass Go, and collect a pitiful handful of cash from the centre where the bank’s cash lives. Apparently Maisie and Kit can’t be trusted as banker. ‘I live to play another round.’

‘Not for long,’ Maisie sing-songs, eyeing my piece hovering dangerously close to her hotel empire.

‘I’ve faced tougher negotiators,’ I tell her, handing the dice to Kit, our fingers brushing. ‘Hollywood producers. Award-show hosts. Your dad when he doesn’t want to admit he’s wrong.’

‘Hey,’ Kit protests. ‘I admit when I’m wrong. It just doesn’t happen often.’

Maisie and I exchange a look.

‘Sure, Dad,’ she says, patting his hand consolingly. ‘Whatever you need to believe.’

An hour later, Maisie has bankrupted us both, her Monopoly empire complete.

‘I win!’ she announces, doing a little victory dance around the coffee table. ‘Again!’

‘No chance. I can’t believe one game takes so many hours; it’s like they wanted to create torture,’ Kit says, leaning back against the sofa. ‘I’m starting to think you’re counting cards.’

‘You can’t count cards in Monopoly, Dad.’

‘Then you’ve got a system. Or you’re just weirdly lucky.’

‘It’s skill,’ she insists. ‘And good property investments.’