He told me quite clearly that he hadn’t liked Jerome. With such an admission made, my nervousness dispelled. If he hadn’t liked Jerome, the simple fact that I wasn’t Jerome might be enough for him to like me. I kept the conversation going, talking about the quality of Jenny’s art. After a while, I got the sense that he didn’t believe me.

He spoke in a way of his disappointment with his daughter. How he would have preferred if she had pursued something with an ounce of practicality. How she wasted her time with strange people and paints and her constant battles, believing in herself, when no one else believed. It was demeaning. I knew it was only talk coming from somebody with generational obstinacy but I felt compelled to defend Jenny. I told him all about her wonderful paintings of the sea that I first saw exhibited in Lennox Street. I didn’t tell him about the impact her work had on me, how I had been desperate to meet her. To be near her. To talk to her. To love her. I didn’t say all that. Instead I said that she was brilliant and I hoped that it would be enough to put an end to our conversation, which was going nowhere good.

I got up and brought over the chocolate ginger cake that I’d bought in Tesco and I opened the cardboard box it came in. I cut three slices of the cake and put each one on a separate saucer. The icing was too sweet, and unnecessary, but we ate it regardless. I didn’t appreciate the way Jenny’s father was quizzing me about what I did, about my prospects. I was looking after his daughter and I was bringing her to exciting places and that should be enough.

I got up from the table and began to clear away the dishes and I brought everything into the kitchen. I made sure that I cleaned the sink the way you are inclined to in old people’s houses. He wasn’t that old but it felt that way, his loneliness seemed to leach into him. He didn’t understand Jenny like I did. He couldn’t comprehend what drove her. He knew nothing about her desires, how could he? He was her father but a father can only have access to a certain part of their daughter’s essence and then they have to let them go to find out about life for themselves.

33. My Lovely Rebel

August 2017