My father could also be an embarrassment. When we took off for Bristol the following Monday morning in my uncle’s grey Austin, he would tell anyone we met the reason he was driving this ‘nondescript’ car – and there were a number of these exchanges before we left Brighton behind: ‘My daughter, you see, insists on being inconspicuous during her re-entry into boarding school life…’ he would disclose with glee…‘they don’t – am I right Jo? – approve of the Bentley.’ Topped with a laugh and a raise of the eyebrow – ‘What we poor fathers are reduced to do for our daughters...!’ By this time, my cheeks would be flaming, and only a hand steadying the hamster cage on the back seat beside me, prevented me from crouching on the floor as invisible as I could make myself.
‘Daddy, do you have to?’..............
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