Page 15 of Shout Out To My Ex

‘Leo’s parents,’ says Marie.

And even if she hadn’t just said where they were from, it would have been an easy guess. They look like they’re straight out ofDallas, the American TV show from the eighties. The man is wearing a large cowboy hat, his thick silver hair only visible at the temples, a dress shirt tucked into jeans, a bolo tie, and the most enormous belt buckle I’ve ever seen. In a pinch, it could be used as a satellite dish. His feet aren’t visible but no doubt they’re adorned with cowboy boots.

And the woman –oh my god!– is swathed in a hot-pink taffeta dress that screams ‘eighties prom’, and the only thing bigger than her puffed sleeves is her hair, which is teased intoa blonde bouffant. She’s wearing an entire MAC counter of makeup and showing off (what I’m guessing is) a ten-thousand-dollar set of teeth. There’s also something quite sad behind her eyes, making me wonder why. My gaze flicks to her husband’s eyes, which are hard and steely. Perhaps that’s why – she’s married to a cold man.

‘Leonard Campbell Junior and his wife, Piper née Jones, marr?—’

‘Wait,’ says Cassie. ‘So, Jones was hismother’ssurname?’

‘Mais, oui.’ Marie doesn’t offer any further explanation and turns back to the screen, her expression sour. She prefers her presentations to ‘tell a story’ and I know from experience that interruptions mess with her flow.

‘Well, that explains it,’ Cassie mutters.

‘Why Elle couldn’t find him?’ I whisper and she nods.

Marie clears her throat with a loud ‘ahem’. ‘May I continue?’ she asks peevishly.

‘Yes, of course,’ says Cassie, frowning at the screen. I can only imagine the thoughts zipping through her mind.

‘Before he died, Mr Campbell was the?—’

‘Sorry,’ Cassie interrupts again. ‘Leo’s dad has passed away?’

Marie huffs out a breath of frustration. ‘Oui, but there is more,’ she says, her tone indicating ‘no more interruptions’. ‘Before he died, Mr Campbell was the third wealthiest cattle rancher in Texas.’

‘Wowser,’ says Cassie under breath.

‘Now,’ Marie proceeds, ‘back to Leonard the third.’

The onscreen image changes to a collage of photos from Leo’s childhood. In the youngest, he is around three. In the oldest, I’d guess late teens. And in every single photo, he’s on a horse, wearing a cowboy hat, or both.

‘So, Leo was a cowboy in a former life?’ quips Nasrin, but the weak joke goes unacknowledged.

‘I knew Leo was from Texas butthis…’ Cassie trails off, but her meaning is clear and I agree. The poor kid looks like he’s starring in a Western – and not by choice.

‘From a young age, Leo was groomed to take over from his father as head of the family business,’ continues Marie. ‘Unfortunately for Leo, his interests lay elsewhere.’

The next collage is a stark contrast: multiple photos of Leo – I’d say from his late-teens to early-twenties – in a variety of outfits and hairstyles (leaning heavily towards the Bieber flip-and-switch), and not a pair of chaps nor giant belt buckle in sight.

‘Now,that’sthe Leo I remember,’ says Cassie, her voice steeped in affection.

‘As you know, Leo attended Kingston University to study fashion. But, of course, this was not his father’s plan. Leo was supposed to attend university in Texas and study agricultural business. His mother, however…’

Marie expertly moves to the next collage, this one showing several photos of Leo with his mother. There is obvious love between them and in one, she appears to be tickling Leo, who is caught mid-squeal, his face radiating pure joy.

‘She was his champion and it wasMadameCampbell who made her son’s dreams come true. She helped him “escape”, one might say, using her own money to pay his tuition. WhenMonsieurCampbell discovered his son had not shown up at the university in Dallas, Leo was already in London and using his mother’s name. This, of course, caused an enormous rift betweenMonsieuretMadameCampbell. Their marriage – basically, kaput.’

Ah, so that sadness in her eyes… itwasabout the marriage.

‘And,’ continues Marie, ‘MonsieurCampbell threatened to discard Leo.’

My head pivots towards Marie. ‘Do you mean, disown?’

Marie flutters her hand in the air. ‘Discard, disown – as I said.’

Another thing she doesn’t like: being corrected for her malapropisms.

‘That’s like proper out of the stone age,’ says Nasrin.

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