Page 51 of The Ex Factor

Steve looked at Molly first. Then at Ashley. Then back at Molly, with a look of such naked appraisal that Ashley was already humiliated before he even spoke.

‘Evening,’ he said.

‘Hi,’ Ashley replied.

Steve took a sip from his mug, like he was giving himself time to decide whether to act like a prick or not.

‘Didn’t realise we were having visitors,’ he said.

‘It wasn’t planned,’ Ashley said quickly. ‘This is Molly.’

Molly lifted a hand. ‘Hi.’

‘Right,’ Steve said. Not unfriendly, but nowhere near warmth.

Steve set his mug down a little too carefully. ‘You going to be staying long, Molly?’

It was polite on paper. It wasn’t polite in tone.

‘I’m not sure,’ Molly said neutrally.

Steve gave a smile that forgot to tell his eyes. ‘Well. Don’t let me interrupt anything.’

Ashley felt the familiar tightening in her stomach that came whenever her father spoke in that register that she had come to think of as ‘bitter-dad frequency’.

She opened her mouth, then closed it again.

Molly didn’t. ‘We’re just having a drink,’ she said lightly.

Steve looked at her again. ‘Course you are.’

Ah, he’d made the call. He was going to be horrid.

Ashley shifted her weight. ‘We were just gonna go upstairs.’

‘Upstairs,’ Steve repeated, as though she’d said something absolutely filthy.

Molly stayed perfectly still beside her.

Then Steve added, almost casually, ‘Bit late for guests, isn’t it?’

Ashley felt heat rise in her face immediately. ‘It’s not that late.’

‘No?’ Steve glanced at a clock that didn’t really need to be glanced at. ‘Feels late.’

‘Does she have a curfew?’ Molly asked.

Ashley tried not to feel alarmed. It wasn’t like Molly was being confrontational, as such. It was just a joke. Or it might be in other houses.

Steve didn’t smile. ‘No curfew,’ he said. ‘Just a working house. Some of us have early starts.’

Ashley opened her mouth again. ‘Dad—’

‘It’s fine,’ Molly cut in gently, without looking at Ashley. Then back to Steve. ‘We won’t be loud.’

Steve’s mouth tightened just a fraction. ‘Right,’ he said. ‘Well. Enjoy your evening.’ He picked up his mug again.

And that, somehow, was the dismissal.