Roxy forbade me from making any contact with my biological father, while Portia forbade me to ignore him. Which left me no time to fathom how I felt about suddenly having a father. I was a minestrone of emotions. ‘He’s my grandfather. The only grandfather I’ve got. Why can’t we give him another chance?’ my daughter beseeched me over supper later that evening. My mother made the kind of facial expression last worn by a slug upon finding itself stuck on a pesticide pellet. ‘Maybe we could give him another hearing, Mum? He seems genuine.’ ‘I’d rather spend time with a cockroach. Although they’re rather alike. Both scavenge off others and know how to empty a room.’ I laughed, which only infuriated my daughter all the more. ‘You’re impossible! Both of you!’ she shouted, stomping back to her room without finishing her meal, her narrow hips swishing. ‘Remember how excited we were when she learnt to talk?’ Roxy said plaintively. All I heard from Portia for the rest of the weekend was the ‘Tss, tss, tss’ of her earphones.
