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'Two?'
'But I hope Kelly's situation is cleared up.'
Kelly sniffed.
'There is, however, um, one skeleton left in my cupboard. And if things go to plan, we should be meeting...my real daughter...any time now.'
Outside in the quiet street, the huge black shadow of a limousine drew up. A slender figure alighted and stepped over the threshold, dressed in faded denim jeans, brown boots, a white jacket over a pink t-shirt, sunshades perched on top of her head and a cowboy hat hanging at her neck. Coming face to face with Richey, she gathered a breath before saying: 'Hi, dad.'
'Hi Miranda,' replied Richey, 'and congratulations on being Number One.'
Miranda smiled and issued thanks. Everyone in the bar was dumbstruck and it was Larissa that eventually voiced the collective feeling: 'She's your daughter? Why you not tell me this before Ree-chee?'
Richey pursed his lips. 'I only found out myself recently.'
Kelly felt a pang of jealousy, brushing Pete away when he went to console her.
Sadly, the subsequent celebration to mark Miranda's triumph bore all the hallmarks of a wake. Nick was pensive, Matt lonesome and Pete and Kelly rueful. They drank to drown their sorrows and because bed was a fearful prospect, carrying on until the extinguished light in the bar in the early hours finally brought the weekend to a close. A whisky-soaked Matt summed things up when he exclaimed: 'Jerry Springer wouldn't believe what's gone on down here this weekend.'
He had a point, yet if they believed the drama was over, they were very much mistaken. The events still to unfold before the trip came to an end would make Nick's visits to Richey's in the past seem like a children's tea party.
End of Part Two.
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