Page 11 of Close Protection
‘How?’
‘What?’
‘How did you lose it? Where did you lose it?’ he says, his expression starting to make me nervous.
‘Remember when I fell off the new horse at the stables? I was wearing it then and it landed in the mud. I looked but I couldn’t find it.’ Now that part was true, but what I failed to mention is that I did eventually find it after having a minor breakdown.
‘Oh, great,’ Daddy mumbles as he gets up and startspacing the length of my room.
‘Daddy, what is so important about the necklace? Why are you so concerned about it?’
‘It’s not for you to worry about, Daphne.’
‘Well, clearly it is, if it’s causing you to stress and pace.’ I stand up to try and get him to look at me. ‘Daddy, please, just tell me wha—’
‘I SAID, DON’T WORRY!’ he roars in my face.
I recoil, stumbling back, hitting the back of my legs on the bed.
I’m shocked.
My father rarely loses his temper, least of all with me.
Yes, I did push him but I don’t understand why he won’t include me in anything. My mother, his work, whatever is causing him stress. I could help him, talk through everything with him, but he just won’t let me.
‘I think it’s time for you to leave,’ I whisper, my eyes starting to water.
‘Daphne, I—’
‘When you’re able to have an adult conversation,’ I interrupt, walking to the door, ‘and respect my boundaries enough to not shout in my face, you can come and talk to me. But for now I’d like you to leave.’
‘Daph—’
‘Goodnight, Father.’ I open the door and close my eyes,willing the tears not to fall until he’s out of the room. I wait until I hear him leave my room and retreat down the stairs. As soon as he’s gone, I open my eyes and the tears come, instantly blurring my vision. I go to close the door only to see Milosh Petrov across the hall.
Perfect timing, Mr Petrov. Just impeccable timing.
He’s holding a manilla folder and is about to enter his room when he sees me. He stops, momentarily pausing by his door.
Ugh, I can only imagine what he must be thinking right now. He’s probably appalled by my tears and lack of decorum. I know I would be if I could see myself. Not meeting his eyes, I shut the door, get into bed and proceed to cry myself to sleep.
6Daphne
I gasp awake and check the clock beside me, 2:42 a.m.Right on time.
I sit up and grab my sleep log notebook to write down the nightmare. I’ve had a lot fewer these past years, but every time it’s always the same one, over and over again.
I check my surroundings and go through my routine of reassurance.
‘You’re fine. No one is trying to hurt you. No one’s in the basement. You’re okay,’ I mumble as I climb out of my bed and slide my slippers on.
Over the years, I’ve developed somewhat of a routine when I get this nightmare – wake up in a delightful pool of sweat, affirm to myself that it was just a bad dream and go to the main kitchen to get a glass of water and some blueberries. Tonight, said sweat was even more delightful than usual, so I decide to change out of my nightdress and into a freshlong-sleeved two-piece set. I rip off my silk headscarf in the process, allowing my hair to cascade down my back and breathe, before it starts reverting back to its curly state.
Feeling miles fresher, I finally make my way downstairs.
I choke out a gasp when I turn to enter the kitchen and see Milosh standing there, pouring milk into a bowl of bran flakes in the dim lighting.
Of course he likes bran flakes, they’re the blandest cereal out there.
