Second Time Around. Erin Kaye

a neutral colour scheme whilst retaining the costly furniture; replaced the dated curtains with plantation shutters; and hung a keenly-priced, oversized mirror from Laura Ashley over the fireplace. Proof that you didn’t have to spend a fortune to make a room stylish. ‘You’ve made some changes in here. It looks good.’

      ‘Look, David,’ she said quickly, with a glance at the ceiling, ‘there’s something you and I need to talk about. It concerns Lucy. She asked me for another hundred quid, last night.’

      ‘So?’ he said and gave her one of his smug, ironic half-smiles she knew so well. David was supremely self-assured, a quality that irritated her now, yet it had been one of the things that attracted her to him in the first place. Theirs had never been an equal partnership. He always knew best. And she didn’t realise how much he undermined her. It was only after the divorce that she’d had the confidence to start the business.

      ‘I didn’t give it to her,’ she said firmly. ‘It’s time she took responsibility for her own finances. She can’t seem to live within her monthly allowance. Not the odd time, but consistently week after week, month after month. What did she do with all that money she earned over the summer? I never took any off her for bed and board.’

      There was a considered pause before David said, slowly, ‘Do you expect her to live like a nun? All students overspend.’

      It was exactly what she expected him to say. Not just because he disagreed with her in principle but also, she suspected, because money wasn’t an issue for him. He owned the only, very successful, vet practice in Ballyfergus. And when it came to his children, he was too indulgent.

      Thankfully Muffin padded into the room just then, breaking the tension.

      ‘Hey, boy,’ said David, reaching out his hand to the collie.

      The dog licked it, flopped down at his feet, silvery trails of saliva dripping onto David’s scuffed desert boots. David ruffled the rangy fur between his ears. ‘That’s a good boy,’ he said softly, reminding Jennifer how his kindness to animals had won her heart. Muffin put his head on his paws and sighed contentedly. David ran his long fingers down the animal’s back, gently probing.

      ‘He’s a bit thin,’ he observed. ‘How’s his appetite?’

      ‘Much the same as always. He doesn’t want to go out much though.’

      ‘Mmm.’ He rested his hands on his thighs and, staring at the animal, nodded slowly to himself. ‘Well, let me know as soon as you think he’s in any discomfort.’

      Jennifer swallowed the lump in her throat. ‘Of course,’ she said, understanding perfectly his meaning. He would be the one to put Muffin down when the time came.

      ‘I’ll make sure he doesn’t know a thing.’

      David looked at his watch and Jennifer, who could not let the matter of Lucy and money go unresolved said, ‘She’ll ask you for money, David. Promise me you won’t give it to her.’ And then she remembered that David never liked being told what to do.

      He arranged a pained, affronted expression on his face. ‘Are you telling me that I can’t give my own daughter money?’

      ‘Of course not,’ said Jennifer, retracting hastily. She rubbed suddenly sweaty palms on the thighs of her blue jeans. ‘All I’m asking,’ she said carefully, ‘is to please consider whether it’s in Lucy’s best interests to do so.’

      He stood up, his well-built frame towering over her. Muffin never stirred. ‘I think I’m capable of making that judgement call.’

      Jennifer tilted her chin up and met his eye, refusing to be intimidated by his height and the size eleven feet planted firmly on her carpet. ‘She’s not going to learn anything about money management if we keep bailing her out every time she gets into trouble.’

      He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans and looked down at her scathingly. ‘Would you really see her short, Jennifer? Leave her without money for food and bus fares?’

      ‘Of course I don’t want to see that,’ said Jennifer, choking up with emotion. ‘But I also know that if we don’t stop these handouts she’s never going to learn to stand on her own two feet.’

      David, who never listened to criticism of his children, said, ‘Well, I for one am not going to send my daughter back to uni without a penny in her pocket. And I have to say, I’m quite astounded by your attitude, Jennifer. How can you be so mean to your own daughter?’

      ‘I’m not being mean,’ she responded robustly. ‘I’m trying to be a responsible parent. And you’re doing what you always do, David. Spoiling her.’

      He reacted angrily. ‘That is not true,’ he said loudly. ‘My children aren’t spoiled. They appreciate the value of things, they don’t take what they have for granted and they know what’s right and wrong.’

      Jennifer considered this, recalling Lucy’s somewhat dubious moral code. Only last week she’d been undercharged in Boots but instead of pointing it out to the assistant at the time, she’d come home crowing about it. ‘I’m not so sure about Lucy. And she’s thoughtless. She gave me dark chocolates for my birthday.’

      ‘Well, give them to someone else if you don’t like them.’

      A deathly silence followed during which they glared at each other. And then Muffin, sensing the charged, negative atmosphere in the room, hauled himself to his feet and padded towards the door. Jennifer turned to watch him go – and let out a little gasp.

      Lucy stood in the doorway dressed for outside, wet hair plastering her head and a huge bag slung over her shoulder. Her eyes glinted with angry tears, as yet unshed, and the expression on her long, thin face was furious.

      ‘Lucy, I … I didn’t see you there,’ said Jennifer feebly, desperately trying to recall exactly what, in her rage, she had said. How much had Lucy heard?

      ‘I’m ready to go,’ said Lucy coolly, ignoring Jennifer.

      David gave Jennifer a sort of triumphant look, pulled his car keys out of his front pocket and said cheerfully, ‘Me too, pet.’

      ‘Do you mind if I stay the night?’ said Lucy, addressing her father. ‘I don’t want to stay here.’

      ‘Sure.’

      So Lucy was up to her old tricks again – playing one parent off against the other, acting like a petulant teenager. Mind you, her tactics only worked because David played right into her hands.

      Jennifer felt that she ought to try to resolve things between them. And so she said, damp patches of perspiration forming under her arms, ‘Lucy, please. Don’t be like this. I thought we could go out for something to eat tonight. And go shopping tomorrow.’

      Lucy furrowed her brow and feigned confusion. ‘Why would you want to go out with a, what was it, Dad? A “spoilt brat”? And I can’t go shopping. I don’t have any money. You know that.’

      Jennifer sighed. ‘I didn’t say you were a spoilt brat, Lucy. I said you acted like one sometimes. That’s not the same thing.’

      Ignoring her, Lucy went on, theatrically, ‘What else was it you said? That I don’t know the difference between right and wrong? That I’m thoughtless?’

      ‘Lucy, I’m sorry I said those things. I was trying to make a point to your father, that’s all.’ Jennifer looked to David for support but he, finding sudden fascination in a loose thread on the cuff of his shirt, blanked her.

      ‘I heard what you were trying to do, Mum. You were trying to stop Dad from helping me when I … I …’ Her voice started to crack up and she paused momentarily, sniffed and went on, ‘I don’t even know where my next meal’s coming from. If anyone’s thoughtless, it’s you.’ And with that, partly covering her face with her hand, she burst into tears.

      Jennifer bit her lip, her chest tight with anxiety, hard pressed