Harold dropped the suitcase next to the door, crossed the stairs and called up to his daughter. "Lucy? Are you ready? Tom will be here in a minute with the taxi and you need to be ready."
"One minute!" The teenager's voice drifted down the stairs. "I'm just putting my make-up on."
Harold turned back to the kitchen and looked out of the window in case that made the taxi come sooner. "Make up?" he said. "She's fifteen!"
"And has been wearing makeup for five years now. She's so good at it you never notice, Harold." Julie pressed two envelopes into his hands. "Here's your tickets, boarding passes, itineries."
"Itineries? We're not going on separate holidays, you know."
Julie laughed. "A fifty year old man with his fifteen year old daughter? You might both be going to Paris but you're definitely having separate holidays."
Harold huffed. "I only look like I'm in my late twenties, though."