Page 68 of The Facilitator: Part 2
“Yes, rather sad, isn’t it? Pancreatic, I believe. Patti saw him, said he looked awful and he doesn’t have that long. Probably a little too much of this,” he said, raising his glass. “When did you last seehim?”
I knew the answer was going to be sarcastic simply by the tight squeeze to myhand.
“Oh, I don’t know, Father David. I think it was when I divorced his daughter for fucking her cousin and getting pregnant by him. I do believe her daddy was very supportive of her. Let’s hope she remembers that and looks after the prick in his dyingdays.”
I was sure the majority of people in the room heard the click of a jaw as it unhinged in shock at Mackenzie’s words. I looked at Mackenzie; he looked at me. He gave me a slight shrug of his shoulders, and I smiled. What else was there todo?
“David, I’m pretty sure you are aware of how ill-treated Mackenzie was by that family. Perhaps you’ve had a little too much of this yourself,” Mrs. Collingsworth said, raising her glass and rescuing her dinner party from the buildingtension.
“Bless his heart,” she said, as she turned away and gave Mackenzie awink.
I wasn’t sure whetherbless his heartwas a polite or sarcastic turn of phrase, I opted for the latter when I saw Father David splutter into his wine glass. Mrs. Collingsworth had turned intoMomma Bearfor the second time where Mackenzie was concerned. Even though he was forty years old, she was as protective of him then as I imagined she had been when he’d needed her as a child. I smiled to her retreating back, loving her evenmore.
“If you’ll excuse us, I think Vivienne has said all I would have added to this conversation,” Mackenziesaid.
We made our way over to Gabriella and Alex who, like me, was getting the third degree on England, the Queen—and I was sure he’d be able to answer the question of ‘have you met her’ more successfully than I had—did he know the Harrington’s of Edinburg, and such like. I hid the smirk, even as Alex rolled his eyes at the, ‘Did Prince Philip kill Diana’question.
“We’re going to head off now. I’ll call you in the morning,” he said toGabriella.
“If my mother wasn’t likely to kill me, I’d be with you. Lord, these people are boring,” she whispered, as she huggedme.
I laughed, embraced Alex, and we made our way to Mrs. Collingsworth, who was still standing in her heels, but holding the arm of another young beau. I wondered what had happened to the previousone.
We said our goodbyes and left. As we walked to the car, Mackenzie whipped off his tie, took off his jacket, and threw them on the back seat as he opened the door for me. He walked around the front, his hand trailing over the bonnet, and climbed in behind the driver’s wheel. For a moment he justsat.
“You know, go back a year and socialising, parties—all that crap would have been an opportunity to network—but now…I love Vivienne, Gabriella, and Alex, obviously, but I could so do without all the pomp and pricks that go with it. Maybe I’m gettingold.”
I laughed. “Maybe you’re just seeing it for what it alwayswas.”
He chuckled as he turned the key and the engine roared. He drove us much slower back to his house, where we sat with one last glass of wine on the veranda and watched theocean.
“I’m wondering what I have to do to either go back a week or forward one withamnesia.”
“Why would you want to do that?” Iasked.
“I don’t know… my dad’s news, FatherDickhead.”
“I think you handled Father Dickhead rather wonderfully; not as grand as Vivienne, obviously, no one could have the level of class that womandoes.”
He chuckled at the comment. “If you hadn’t been with me, Lauren, I think I might have punched theprick.”
“Well then, I’m glad I was. You can’t punch people, Mackenzie, because they upset you. More so a priest, or vicar, or whatever the Father actually is. Anyway, I don’t think I’d like to see you fight withanyone.”
“I doubt I would have, other than your ex—who deserved every fucking punch—I don’t generally go around fighting. He knew exactly what he was saying and I don’t think we would have, had I been alone. No one likes Frank, other than Father Dickhead, because I’m sure he’ll be looking forward to just how much he can charge for his part in thefuneral.”
“If he’s not liked, would the funeral be so lavish?” Iasked.
“Oh yeah, there are plenty of people who would want to make sure the fucker was buried, not least his doting daughter. She seems to think he’s sitting on a treasure trove somewhere, but he’s mortgaged to the hilt on everything, and of course, I own the loancompany.”
I wasn’t sure I liked the glint in hiseye.
“At what point do you let it all go?” I asked, knowing I was treading on rockyground.
“Huh?”
“At what point do you let the anger and resentment, the hurt at her betrayal, and his subsequent shitty dealings with you go? You won,” Isaid.
“It’s the anger that drives me still,” he said, although the angry tone of voice hadchanged.
