He swallowed and squared his shoulders. “I’ll give it a chance.” He shrugged. “I wouldn’t want to risk any more cheesy eighties à la Kira after all.”
“Oh, you’ll be hearing me sing again, Henny Penny,” I warned him. “That’s not going to change, no matter what you do.” He grinned and I blew him a kiss, which set him off laughing, the kind of deep, genuine belly laugh that I’d been managing to get out of him more and more recently. I was smiling across at him when the door to the kitchen flew open and a tall, middle-aged, dark-haired lady in head-to-toe Boden, followed by a taller man with almost completely grey hair, walked in. The woman’s wide eyes went to a laughing Henry and her mouth dropped open.
“Henry,” she whispered, and her eyes filled with tears. The man moved to wrap his arm around her and I saw him give her shoulder a squeeze.
“Mum,” Henry said softly, coming out of his chair to her. When he was inches away he snatched her up in a fierce hug, lifting her off her feet, then went over to the man and did a manly back slapping version of the same thing. As soon as he moved away from what I assumed was his dad, his mum’s hands came up and framed his face. Tears fell down her own as she took him in. “Come on now, Mum. No need to get all soppy.”
“You look good,” his mum said in a choked voice through her tears. “I didn’t expect . . .” she fell into him again and he took her in his arms, gently guiding her over to the kitchen table.
I started sidling over to towards the corridor so I could make a speedy exit. This was a family affair and I didn’t want to intrude. But just as I was about to make it to the door Mr Lucas’s voice cracked across the space.
“Dr Murphy?” he said, and I heard a chair scrap back as he stood up.
“Don’t mind me,” I said, edging further towards the door. “I’ll just let you guys catch up and . . .”
Mr Lucas’s sharp gaze came to me. With his blue, too-intelligent eyes, so much like his sons’, it was a little unnerving.
“TheDr Murphy?” he asked again, taking in my outfit from head to toe. I was wearing one of Libby’s t-shirts that showed a dejected storm trooper sitting under a caption sayingI had friends on that Deathstar,which I’d teamed with my extra-frayed cut-offs and a pair of furry UGGs.
“Hi.” I gave them both a finger wave and a lopsided grin, which was not returned by Mr Lucas. Whilst his expression was blank, Mrs Lucas gave me a small, curious smile.
“Thank you,” Mr Lucas said, drawing my attention back to him. My eyebrows drew together – that was not what I was expecting him to say. No doubt he had seen the papers, and I did not think that a retired judge and his barrister wife would be over keen on their politician son hanging out with a sex doctor who was happy to be covered in green slime and show her bra to the nation.
“What . . .?”
He cleared his throat. “Barclay told us what you’ve done for Henry. Hesaysyou were a big part of his recovery.”
As far as gratitude goes, this dude had a lot to learn.
“Well, not really. We’re just mates. Henry’s the one that turned things around,” I told him, my voice getting smaller under his disapproving stare, which I found frustrating because that just was notme. Kira Murphy did not speak in a small voice for anyone. But I’d encountered this type of person before and I was feeling the familiar sting of hurt at his disapproval. Unconventional was not everyone’s cup of tea, and I often found that people like him had perfected the withering stare until it felt like it could reduce the average person to mush at a single glance. Usually I could shrug this type of thing off, but it felt important that the Lucases liked me. They were Barclay’s parents. “Oh, and please call me Kira, Mr Lucas.”
“Kira,” Mrs Lucas piped up, shooting her husband an irritated look. “I’m Liz.” She moved towards me and took my hand in hers. “It’s so good to meet you.”
“Hmm,” Mr Lucas mumbled, ignoring his wife’s interruption. No offer of me usinghisChristian name forthcoming. “You seem to bemateswith both our sons, if the press are to be believed.”
“Fergus,” Liz said in a warning tone, dropping my hand to turn back towards her husband.
I gave a nervous chuckle. “Ha! Yes, well it’s all very jolly. I just–”
“Barclay’s close protection officer tells me that you are, in fact, currently resident at this address. Is that right?” Mr Lucas’s eyebrows went up into his hairline and I felt colour flood my face (another very un-Kira-like event).
“Funny story. I had a bit of trouble at my gaffe and Barcos didn’t think it was super safe, so he thought–”
“Convenient,” Mr Lucas put in.
“Dad!” Henry finally entered the conversation. “Will youlay off?”
“I was just asking the young lady some perfectly reasonable questions, Henry,” Mr Lucas told him. The way he saidyoung lady, sounding as though I was a fifteen-year-old vagrant rather than a twenty-nine-year-old professional.
Henry gave me an apologetic look. For some reason, his solidarity in the face of his father’s obvious dislike made my throat feel thick. I turned to the only solution I could think of.
“Tea?” I asked almost desperately into the awkward silence.
“I’d love some tea, dear,” Mrs Lucas said. “Don’t mind my husband, Kira. Look up aggravating, stubborn, prejudiced, ancient hypochondriac in the dictionary and you’ll see his face right there.”
“I say!” blustered Mr Lucas. “That’s a bit–”
“Oh, do dry up, Fergus, you great ninnyhammer,” she snapped, sparing him a disgusted look before turning back to me. “Now, I for one amverygrateful for all you’ve done for my boy, Kira. Sit down, dear.I’llmake the tea. Barclay tells me that you are a specialist in genitourinary medicine and infectious diseases. I hope you won’t mind if I ask a few questions about my son’s condition.”
