Guy Fawkes Day

by KJ Griffin

  ***

  Oxford, 12:45 p.m.

  ‘My God, he's named Clayton publicly,’ Sophie murmured to Joanna. 'Clayton' was still the only way she could think of describing her biological father. 'Dad' seemed both false and abhorrent at the same time.

  As Darren's interview with Omar ended, the BBC studio returned to the pitched battle raging between police and protesters at the anti-capitalist demonstration outside Victoria. The reporter's voice was animated.

  ‘The police have only just succeeded in repelling a concerted surge aimed at opening up a passage through to Parliament Square. As I speak, the badly overstretched police lines are being reinforced by soldiers from the Royal Green Jackets. It seems that this demonstration, undoubtedly linked to the on-going siege in the Houses of Parliament, has pushed the police to breaking point. With the situation here getting uglier by the minute, it is a matter of debate whether the forces of law and order can succeed in containing the violence any longer.’

  The doorbell rang and Joanna went to answer it. Sophie was too preoccupied with the television to pay any attention to the sound of her best friend arguing in the hallway. Not until the living room door opened and Marcus walked in.

  His eyes looked red and puffy and a large spot had appeared in the centre of his left cheek. It was the first blemish Sophie had ever seen on his immaculate skin.

  ‘I'm not here about us, Soph. Just want to find out what's really been going on. Last time we talked outside Magdalen bar, just before the police turned up looking for you… I … I wasn't ready accept it all then. But I am now. I accept that my father may have done some pretty horrendous things; I'm just going to have to face up to that. Please forgive me for what I told you the other night. And please, please, tell me what you know.’

  ‘Oh, you poor thing, Marky,’ Sophie wailed, rushing up to Marcus and throwing her arms around him. But it was a maternal, not a lover's embrace. They were past that point now.

  ‘Sit down on the sofa while I make you some herbal tea. It's going to be a long, painful story, I'm afraid.’