Private Lives

Matthew nodded. He felt bad about their argument in the pub, especially when his father was clearly not recovered from his heart attack. Still, he wasn’t sure if he was ready for the Hollywood ending.

‘So where’s Loralee?’ he asked, keen to change the subject.

‘She’s out,’ said Larry quickly.

‘Good.’

Larry raised an eyebrow.

‘I don’t think she likes me coming round.’

His father shrugged. ‘She’s jealous of you.’

‘Of me?’

Larry waved his glass at Matt.

‘Well, she’s jealous of us, what we could be. I think she liked it as it was before.’

Matt had always wondered about Larry and Loralee’s relationship. Was his father really arrogant enough to think that Loralee had married him for his sparkling wit and virile good looks, or had they struck th

e classic ‘Chelsea bargain’ of money and stability in exchange for youth and beauty?

‘I bet she hated you giving me the firm,’ said Matt quietly.

Larry swilled the wine around the bottom of his glass in wide circles.

‘I have enough money. The law’s been good to me. I wanted it to be good to my son too. After everything that’s happened, I suppose it was the best way of telling you that I loved you.’

Matt felt a spike of emotion so strong he thought it would knock him off his bar stool.

‘You could have just said I love you.’ He grinned. ‘But thank you,’ he added slowly.

They sat there and smiled at each other, and Matt knew then that their relationship had mellowed.

‘You know Loralee is having an affair?’ said Larry, still caught up in their moment of complicity.

Matt looked at him in shock. ‘What? You’ve only been married three months.’

‘Like that ever stopped anyone,’ he said. ‘Me included.’

‘What are you going to do?’

‘It’s more what I was hoping you could do for me.’

Matt felt himself move into professional mode.

‘Of course, Dad, anything. Obviously I couldn’t actually represent you, but . . .’

Larry put his hand on top of his son’s. It looked smaller, weaker than Matt remembered.

‘You misunderstand,’ he said. ‘I was rather hoping you would check on the cats next Friday. Feed them. Loralee insists they have Jersey milk, you see. I’d get the housekeeper to do it, but she’s going back to Poland on Friday.’

‘The cats?’ frowned Matt. ‘What about Loralee?’

‘I’m taking her away for the week. Somewhere fancy.’

‘When you know she’s having an affair?’ said Matt incredulously.