THE SMOKING ROOM, WEYFIELD HALL, 10:20 P.M.
• • •
Andrew stayed sitting on the sofa, thinking. His oldest daughter, who usually shunned him with evasive eyes and brief answers, had opened up. They had had something amounting to a real conversation. Then he remembered why—she’d come to complain about Jesse’s misplaced advice. In twenty-four hours, Jesse had managed to alienate Andrew’s entire family—first Phoebe, then Emma, and now Olivia. Yesterday, Andrew had naively assumed that Jesse was doing rather well. Emma had warmed to him, Olivia appeared to accept him—and no doubt he would have charmed Phoebe in time. If anything, Andrew was the one struggling to make sense of this sunny stranger. But today, Jesse had messed it all up with his well-meant opinions and advice. It made Andrew feel unexpectedly defensive, as if he’d known his son for much longer. Besides, he was convinced Jesse was right about George. He thought of the boy’s vile, openly expressed homophobia—not to mention his obscene Lycra. Phoebe had really had a lucky escape. But when Andrew had put all this to Emma for a second time, before dinner, she’d shut him down. “It’s very normal that you’re making sense of your own son being gay, but that’s nothing to do with George,” she’d said. Bloody condescending. When he’d protested, she’d changed gear and said that Andrew was obviously “infatuated with Jesse.” She never stuck to a linear argument. And he wasn’t infatuated with Jesse. In fact, Andrew decided, he’d show her that right now, by telling Emma about his talk with Olivia. He didn’t really expect Emma to take Jesse’s dubious medical advice seriously. But this was the first thing Olivia had asked of Andrew since she was a child. He wanted to keep his word.