Page 55 of The Sound Between Us

“You always know my love language.”

Kimba huffs lightly, no doubt offended by my preference for staff over family, but she’s distracted by the sound of a blender finally giving up the will to live.

Dad chooses that moment to make his entrance; a storm in a silk shirt.

Damon Rogers, ex-frontman of The Revelry, part-time chaos merchant, and full-time embarrassment. He’s changed for dinner; I sometimes think he changes his outfit to keep boredom at bay. Some people read a book, Damon Rogers changes pants.

Today’s outfit includes snakeskin boots and sunglasses indoors.

“Jesus. Did you mug a Vegas magician?”

“Style icon, darling.” He swans over, arms wide. “You’ve got to commit to the look.”

“You committed a fashion crime.”

He roars with laughter, planting a kiss on my hair as though we’re best mates and not just genetically entangled.

“Right then.” He grabs a handful of almonds from a crystal bowl. “We’ve been offered a bloody telly show.”

“God help us.” Felix murmurs.

Kimba clasps her hands as though someone just proposed marriage. “Oh, I love that idea.”

“It’s the Kardashians but better.” Damon announces, mouth full. “Cameras follow us around, get a bit of the old family madness, show the world the Rogers dynasty in all its glory.”

I blink. “Didn’t we already try that when you married your backing singer and forgot to tell Mum?”

“Exactly!” Damon points at me. “Drama; redemption. Relatability.”

“Deep trauma and low-cut tops.” Felix adds dryly.

Damon shrugs. “Exactly.”

Just then, the front door bursts open and in breezes Hailey. Long legs, even longer lashes, and a skirt so short I briefly consider donating fabric.

“Hi!” she trills, kissing air and posing in one fluid motion. “Sorry I’m late, I was in a meeting with my agent and you’ll never guess what.”

“I already have hives.”

“They want me for Love Island.” She announces, as though she’s just been offered a Nobel Prize.

“Brilliant.” Damon groans. “Absolutely not.”

Hailey pouts. “Why not?”

“Because you’re already in the papers more than King Charles, and not always for the right reasons.”

She waves a hand. “That’s old news. Plus, it’s great exposure.”

“You’ve had enough exposure.” Felix mutters. “Most of it on beaches.”

Hailey flops onto a sofa and starts scrolling through her phone. “You lot are so uptight. Seren, back me up.”

“Hard pass.”

“Traitor.”

Mrs Martin appears with a tray of Yorkshire puddings, rescuing us from ourselves.