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Love, marriage…and a family reunited

The Rinucci Brothers

Three glitzy, glamorous romances from one beloved Mills & Boon author!

The Rinucci Brothers
Lucy Gordon

www.millsandboon.co.uk

About the Author

LUCY GORDON cut her writing teeth on magazine journalism, interviewing many of the world’s most interesting men, including Warren Beatty, Richard Chamberlain, Sir Roger Moore, Sir Alec Guinness and Sir John Gielgud. She also camped out with lions in Africa and has many other unusual experiences which have often provided the background for her books. She is married to a Venetian, whom she met while on holiday in Venice. They got engaged within two days.

Two of her books have won the Romance Writers of America RITA^® award, Song of the Lorelei in 1990 and His Brother’s Child in 1998, in the Best Traditional Romance category. You can visit her website at www.lucy-gordon.com.

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Wife and Mother Forever

Prologue

IT WAS four o’clock and almost time for Signora Rinucci’s birthday celebration to begin. Gleaming black limousines were gliding up the hill to the Villa Rinucci in its place of eminence, overlooking the Bay of Naples.

The food and wine were laid out on the great terrace of the villa, best Neapolitan spaghetti and clams, fruit grown in the rich volcanic soil of Vesuvius, wine from the same place. A feast for the gods.

High above, the sky was the deepest blue. Far below, the blue was reflected in the bay, sparkling in the afternoon sun.

‘A perfect day.’ Toni Rinucci joined his wife on the terrace where she was looking down the hill, and laid his arm gently around her shoulder. ‘Everything as it should be.’

He was a stocky man of sixty with grey hair and a heavy face that broke easily into a grin. As always, his eyes were tender as he gazed at his wife.

She was fifty-four but could have passed for her late forties. Her figure was still as slim as a girl’s. Everything about her spoke of grace and elegance, not to mention marriage to a rich man who delighted in spending money on her.

Despite some inevitable lines, her face was still beautiful. Not pretty; it was too strong for that.

Her nose was large for a woman, slightly flattened at the bridge, dominating her features, speaking of character and decision.

Her mouth was wide and generous, and could break into a smile that many men had found breathtaking. She offered that smile to her husband now, her fingers caressing the diamonds at her throat.

‘And your gift to me is the best ever,’ she told him, ‘as it is every year.’

‘But it’s not the gift you really want, is it?’ he said softly. ‘Do you think I don’t know that?’

She seemed to give herself a little shake.

‘That’s all in the past, caro Toni. I don’t dwell on it.’

He knew she didn’t speak the truth. The secret that had lain between them for the thirty years of their marriage was as potent now as always. But, as always, she would not hurt him by saying that her happiness was incomplete. And, as always, he pretended to believe her.

Two men appeared in the doorway that led from the house to the terrace, and stopped at the sight of the couple holding each other tenderly.

Luke, the more heavily built of the two, grinned at the sight.

‘There’s no time for that, you two,’ he said fondly. ‘You have guests arriving in a minute.’

‘Send them away,’ Toni said, his eyes on his wife.

Primo, tall, with brilliant eyes and a laid-back air that proclaimed his Neapolitan ancestry, shook his head in mock despair.

‘Incorrigible,’ he told his brother. ‘Maybe we should leave them alone and take everyone off to a nightclub.’

‘You already spend too much time in nightclubs, my son,’ Hope said, coming over to kiss Primo’s cheek.

‘A man needs a little innocent fun,’ he said, giving her a beguiling smile.

‘Hm!’ She stood back and surveyed him tenderly. ‘My opinion of your ‘innocence’ is best not expressed at this moment.’

‘No need,’ he said wickedly. ‘Not when you’ve expressed it so often before. I’m a lost case. Give up on me.’

‘I never give up on any of my sons,’ she said, adding softly, ‘None of them.’

In the brief silence that followed Primo and Luke exchanged glances, each understanding the hidden meaning of those words.

‘One day, Mamma,’ Primo said gently.

‘Yes, one day. One day he will be here. I know it in my heart, although I cannot tell how or when it will happen. But I will not die until he has come to me. Of that I am certain.’

Toni had drawn close to his wife in time to hear her last words.

‘Cara,’ he said gently, ‘no sad thoughts today.’

‘But I am not sad. I know that one day my son will find me. That can only make me happy. Ah, there you are!’

With a bright smile she turned away to greet the first guests. The newcomers had been ushered out on to the terrace by three young men whose facial resemblance proclaimed them kin.

‘Mamma,’ the tallest of the three called to her, indicating the guests, ‘look who’s here.’

This was Francesco, who might have been his mother’s secret favourite, or might not. It was marvellous how many of her sons thought he alone was the possessor of the talisman.

The other two were Ruggiero and Carlo, the twin sons she had borne to Toni. At twenty-eight they were the youngest. Although not identical, they were much alike, both ridiculously handsome, with the same air of being ready for anything. Especially if it was a party.

And this was going to be the party of parties. As the light faded and the dark red sun plunged into the bay the lights came on in the Villa Rinucci and the guests streamed up the hill, bearing gifts for Hope Rinucci’s fifty-fourth birthday.

Those present included everybody who was anybody in Naples, with a fair sprinkling of guests who had made the journey from Rome, or even as far away as Milan, for the Rinucci family was one of the more notable in Italy, with extensive connections in business and politics.

The woman at the centre of it was English, even after thirty years in Italy. Yet nobody would have mistaken her for an outsider. She was the heart of the family, not only to her husband but to the five men who called themselves her sons. Only three of them had actually been born to her, but, if challenged, the other two would have fiercely claimed her as their mother.

They were the best-looking men there: all in their prime, all strolling about with grace and unconscious arrogance. They were Rinuccis, even those who did not bear the name.

Throughout the evening Hope moved among her guests, receiving gifts and tributes with great charm, an undisputed queen among her admirers.

Not all the guests would have called themselves admirers. For each one who spoke of charm and generosity another could tell of ruthlessness. Yet even her enemies had not spurned her invitation.

The enemies were easy to spot, as Luke remarked wryly to Primo. They brought the most lavish gifts, showered her with the greatest praise and lingered the longest to say what a wonderful evening it had been.

But finally the last one departed, the staff had cleared the tables on the terrace and the family were free to relax with their various choice of nightcap.

‘That’s better,’ Primo said, pouring himself a whisky. ‘Shall I bring you something, Mamma? Mamma?’

She was looking out over the sea, and although her fingers touched the diamonds about her neck it was clear that she was oblivious to her surroundings.

‘Couldn’t she have forgotten him even today?’ Primo sighed.

‘Less today than at any other time,’ Luke said. ‘Don’t forget that this was his birthday too.’

‘Why can her five sons not be enough for her?’ Carlo asked with a touch of wistfulness.

‘Because she does not have five sons,’ Toni said quietly. ‘She has six, and even now she grieves for the one who was lost. She believes with all her heart that one day she will find him again.’

‘Do you believe she’ll get her wish?’ Ruggiero asked.

Toni sighed helplessly. He had no answer.

Chapter One

‘OK, FOLKS, that’s it.’

The bell for the end of school sounded as Evie finished talking. Fifteen twelve-year-olds did a more or less controlled scramble, and in seconds the classroom was empty.

Evie rubbed her neck and stretched it a little to relieve the tension.

‘Hard week?’ asked a voice from the door. It was Debra, Deputy Head of the school, and the friend who’d asked her to help out for a term.

‘Yup,’ she replied. ‘Mind you, I’m not complaining. They’re good kids.’

‘Do you have time for a drink?’

‘Lead me to it.’

Later, as they sat on a pleasant terrace by the river, feeding scraps to the swans, Debra said in a carefully casual voice, ‘You really like those youngsters, don’t you?’

‘Mm, some of them are smart, especially Mark Dane. He’s got a true feel for languages. By the way, I didn’t see him today.’

Debra groaned. ‘That means he slipped away again. His truancy is getting serious.’

‘Have you told his parents?’

‘I’ve spoken to his father, who said very grimly that he’d ‘deal with it’.’

Evie made a face. ‘I don’t like the sound of him.’

‘No, I didn’t take to him either. Too much assurance. I gather he’s a big man in industry, built it up himself, finger on a dozen pulses, everything under control.’

‘And that includes his son?’ Evie said sympathetically.

‘I think it includes everything—you, me, Mark—’

‘And the little mouse in the corner,’ Evie said whimsically.

‘Justin Dane wouldn’t have a mouse,’ Debra said at once. ‘He’d hire a tiger to catch it. But enough of him.’ She took a deep breath and said with an air of someone taking the plunge, ‘Look, Evie, I had an ulterior motive in asking you out.’

‘I was afraid you might,’ Evie murmured. ‘But don’t spoil the moment. Seize it. Relish it.’

She leaned back on the wooden seat, one elegantly booted ankle crossed over the other knee. Her eyes were closed and she threw her head back, letting the late afternoon sun play on her face, where there was a blissful smile. With her boots and jeans, her slim figure and dark cropped hair, she might have been a boy. Or an urchin. Or anything but a twenty-nine-year-old schoolteacher.

‘Evie,’ Debra tried again in the special patient voice she kept for coping with her wayward friend.

‘Skip it, Deb. I know what you’re going to say, and I’m afraid the answer’s no. One term I promised, because that’s all I can do. It’ll be over soon and then you won’t see me for dust.’

‘But the Head’s knocked out by the way you’ve clicked with the pupils. He really wants you to stay.’

‘Nope. I just filled in while the language teacher had her baby. She’s had him now, a bonny, bouncing boy, which means it’s time for me to go bouncing off into the sunset.’

‘But she doesn’t really want to return, and I have strict instructions to persuade you to stay on, full time.’

Evie’s response to this was to back away along the bench with an alarmed little cry, like somebody fending off an evil spirit.

‘What’s up with you?’ Debra demanded.

‘You said the fatal words,’ Evie accused her, wild-eyed.

‘What fatal words?’

‘Full time.’

‘Stop fooling around,’ Debra said, trying not to laugh.

Evie resumed her normal manner. ‘I never do anything full time, you know that. I need change and variety.’

‘But you said you like teaching.’

‘I do—in small doses.’

‘Yes, that’s the story of your life, isn’t it? Everything in small doses. A job here, a job there.’

Evie gave a grin that was wicked and delightful in equal measure.

‘You mean I’m immature, don’t you? At my age I ought to be ready to settle down to a nine-to-five job, one offspring and two-point-five husbands.’

‘I think you mean that the other way around.’

‘Do I? Well, whatever. The point is, you think I should be heading for a settled life, suitable for a woman approaching the big ‘‘three’’. Well, nuts to it! I live the way I want. Why can’t people accept that?’

‘Because we’re all jealous,’ Debra admitted with a grin. ‘You’ve managed to stay free. No mortgage. No ties.’

‘No husband.’ Evie sighed with profound gratitude.

‘I’m not sure that’s something you should rejoice about.’

‘It is from where I’m standing,’ Evie assured her.

‘Anyway, the point is that you just up and go when the mood suits you. I suppose that might be nice.’

‘It is nice,’ Evie said with a happy sigh. ‘But as for no mortgage—what I pay on that motorbike is practically a mortgage.’

‘Yes, but that was your choice. Nobody made you. I bet nobody’s ever made you do anything in your life.’

Evie gave a chuckle. ‘Some have tried. Not with much success, and never a second time, but they’ve tried.’

‘Alec, David, Martin—’ Debra recited.

‘Who were they?’ Evie asked innocently.

‘Shame on you! How unkind to forget your lovers so soon!’

‘They weren’t lovers, they were jailers. They tried to trick me up the aisle, or soft soap me up the aisle, or haul me up the aisle. One of them even dared to set the date and tell me after.’

‘Well, you made him regret it. The poor man was desperate because you’d kept him wondering long enough.’

‘I didn’t keep him wondering. I was trying to let him down gently. It just turned out to be a long way down. I never even wanted him to fall in love with me. I thought we were simply having a good time.’

‘Is that what you’re doing with Andrew?’ Debra asked mischievously.

‘I’m very fond of Andrew,’ Evie said, looking up into the sky. ‘He’s nice.’

‘I thought maybe you were in love with him.’

‘I am—I think—sort of—maybe.’

‘Any other woman would think he was a catch—good job, sweet nature, sense of humour. Plus you’re in love with him, sort of, maybe.’

‘But he’s an accountant.’ Evie sighed. ‘Figures, books, tax returns—’

‘That’s not a crime.’

‘He believes in the proper way of doing things,’ Evie said in a tone of deepest gloom.

‘You mean about—everything?’

Evie gave her a speaking look.

‘One day,’ Debra said, exasperated, ‘I hope you’ll fall hook, line and sinker for a man you can’t have.’

‘Why?’ Evie asked, honestly baffled.

‘It’ll be a new experience for you.’

Evie chuckled. It was the happy, confident laugh of someone who had life ‘sussed’. She had her job, translating books from French and Italian into English. She was free to travel and did so, often. She had all the male company she wanted, and female company too for, unlike many women who attracted love easily, she also had a gift for friendship with her own sex.

It wasn’t immediately clear why people were drawn to her. Her face was charming but not outstandingly beautiful. Her nose tilted a little too much and her eyebrows were rather too heavy, adding a touch of drama to her otherwise perky features.

Perhaps it was something in the richness of her laugh, the way her face could light up as though the sun had risen, her air of having discovered a secret that she would gladly share with anyone who would laugh with her.

‘Time I was going,’ she said now. ‘Sorry I couldn’t help you, Deb.’

They strolled to the car park, where Debra got into her sedate saloon and Evie hopped on to her gleaming motorbike, settling the helmet on her head. A wave of her hand, and she was away.

She enjoyed riding through this pleasant suburb of outer London. Speed was fun, but dawdling through leafy roads was also fun.

Then she saw Mark Dane.

She recognised him from behind. It wasn’t just the dark brown hair with the hint of russet. It was the fact that he was walking with his head down in a kind of dispirited slouch that, she now realised, she’d seen often before.

Mark had a bright, quick intelligence that pleased her. In class he was often the first to answer, the words tumbling over each other, sometimes at the expense of accuracy.

‘Take it a bit slower and get it right,’ she often told him, although she was pleased by his eagerness.

But out of class he seemed to collapse back into himself, often becoming surly.

No, she thought now. Unhappy.

She slowed down and tooted her horn. The boy turned swiftly, glaring, but then smiling as he recognised the goggled, helmeted figure pulling up beside him.

‘’lo, Miss Wharton.’

She uncovered her head. ‘Hallo, Mark. Had a busy day?’

‘Yes, I’ve been—’ He stopped, reading the irony in her eyes and gave up. ‘I didn’t exactly come to school.’

‘What did you do—exactly?’

He shrugged, implying that he neither remembered nor cared.

‘It’s not the first time you’ve played truant,’ she said, trying not to sound like a nag.

Again the shrug.

‘Where do you live?’

‘Hanfield Avenue.’

‘You’ve wandered quite a way. How are you going to get home?’

Shrug.

‘Wanna lift?’ She indicated the bike.

He beamed. ‘Really?’

‘As long as you wear this,’ she said, removing her helmet.

He donned it eagerly and she checked that it was secure.

‘But now you don’t have a helmet,’ he said.

‘That’s why I’m going to go very slowly and carefully. Now, get up behind and hold on to me tightly.’

When she felt him grip her she eased away from the kerb. It took half an hour to reach his home, which was in a prosperous, tree-lined street, full of detached houses that exuded wealth. She swung through the gates and up the drive to the front door, mentally preparing what she would say to Mark’s parents, who would be home by now, and worried.

But the woman who opened the door looked too old to be his mother. Her eyes were like saucers as she saw his mode of transport.

‘What on earth—?’

‘Hallo, Lily,’ Mark said, climbing off the bike.

‘What do you mean, coming home at this hour? And on this thing?’ She glanced sharply at Evie. ‘And who are you?’

‘This is Miss Wharton, a teacher from school,’ Mark said quickly. ‘Miss Wharton, this is Lily, my dad’s housekeeper.’

‘You’d better come in,’ Lily said, eyeing Evie dubiously. ‘Mark, your supper’s in the kitchen.’

When she was in the hall Evie said quietly, ‘Can I talk to Mark’s parents?’

Lily waited until Mark was out of sight before saying, ‘His mother’s dead. His father won’t be home for a while yet.’

‘I’d like to wait for him.’

‘It could be a very long wait. Mr Dane comes home at all hours, if he comes home at all.’

‘What does he do that takes so long?’

‘He takes over.’

‘He does what?’

‘He’s in industry. Or rather, he owns an industry, and his industry owns other industries, and if he doesn’t own them he takes them over. If he can’t take them over he puts them out of business. That’s his way. Get them before they get you. I’ve heard him say so.’

‘So that’s why he’s not here,’ Evie mused. ‘After all, if you’re busy taking over the world it wouldn’t leave much time for other things.’

‘That’s right. I’m usually all that poor kid has, and I’m not enough. I do my best, but I’m no substitute for parents.’ She checked herself, adding hastily, ‘Don’t tell Mr Dane that I said that.’

‘I’m glad you did. But I won’t tell him, I promise.’

‘I’ll make you some tea. The living room’s through there.’

While she waited for the tea Evie looked around and understood what Debra had told her about Justin Dane, plus what Lily had just revealed. This was the home of a wealthy man. He could give his son everything, except the warmth of a welcome.

It dawned on her that there was something missing in the living room. She began to look more closely, but without success. She started again, examining every ledge and bookshelf, searching for some sign of Mark’s mother. But there wasn’t a single photograph, either of her or her and her husband together: nothing to remind her child that she had ever lived.

‘Who the hell are you?’

The outraged voice from the doorway made her jump.

There was no doubt of the identity of the man standing there. If the hint of russet in his dark brown hair hadn’t proclaimed him Mark’s father she would still have known him from Debra’s description.

Pride and assurance personified, she thought. Everything under control. And when it wasn’t he hit the roof.

His lean face was set in harsh lines that looked dangerously permanent and there was a ferocity in his eyes that she refused to let intimidate her.

‘I’m Miss Wharton,’ she said, determinedly pleasant. ‘I teach languages at Mark’s school.’

He made a wry face. ‘Really!’

‘Yes, really,’ she said, nettled.

‘Dressed like that?’

She looked down at her colourful outfit and shrugged.

‘A verb conjugates exactly the same, however I’m dressed, Mr Dane.’

‘You look like some crazy student.’

‘Thank you,’ she said, giving him her best smile. She knew he hadn’t meant a compliment but she couldn’t resist riling him. ‘At my age that’s a really nice thing to hear.’

‘I wasn’t flattering you.’

‘You amaze me. I’d assumed you went through life winning hearts with your diplomacy.’

There was a flicker in his eyes that suggested uncertainty. Was she, or wasn’t she, daring to mock him?

Let him wonder, she thought.

‘How old are you?’ he demanded.

‘Old enough not to tolerate being barked at.’

‘All right, all right,’ he said in the voice of a man making a concession. ‘Maybe I was hasty. We’ll start again.’

She stared at him in fascination. This man was so lacking in social skills that he was almost entertaining.

‘I suppose that’s as much of an apology as I’m going to get,’ she observed.

‘It wasn’t meant as an apology. I’m not used to coming home and finding myself under investigation by strangers.’

‘Investigation?’

‘It’s a politer word than spying. Are you here to report back to the social services? If so, tell them that my son has a good home and doesn’t need anyone’s interference.’

‘I’m not sure I could say that,’ she replied quietly.

‘What?’

‘Is this a good home? You tell me. What I’ve seen so far looks pretty bleak. Oh, it’s comfortable enough, plenty of money spent. But after all, what’s money?’

Now it was his turn to be fascinated. ‘Some people think money amounts to quite a lot.’

‘Not if it’s all you have.’

‘And you feel entitled to make that judgement, do you?’

‘Why not? At least I looked at the whole room. You judged me on the basis of my clothes and my age.’

‘I told you, I’ve drawn a line under that,’ he said impatiently.

‘But maybe I haven’t,’ she said, incensed again. ‘And maybe I stand on my right to jump to conclusions, just like you.’

She knew she was treading on thin ice, but what the hell? She was usually slow to anger, but there was something about this man that made her want to be unreasonable. In fact, there was something about him that made her want to jump up and down on his head.

He gave an exasperated sigh. ‘This is getting us nowhere. What are you doing in my house?’

House, she noticed. Not home. Well, he was right about that.

‘I gave Mark a lift.’

‘Riding that contraption outside?’

‘No,’ she shot back. ‘I rode it while he ran behind—’ She checked herself. This was no time for sarcasm. ‘Of course. He rode pillion.’

‘Did he have a helmet?’

‘Yes, I gave him mine.’

‘So you rode without one?’

‘Yes.’

‘Which is against the law.’

‘I’m aware of that, but what else could I do? Leave him there? The point is, his head was safe.’

‘But yours wasn’t.’

‘I’m overwhelmed by your concern,’ she snapped.

‘My concern,’ he snapped back, ‘is for my son if you’d been stopped by the police while in breach of the law.’

Evie ground her teeth but wouldn’t risk answering. He had a point. An unfair point, but still a point.

‘And why were you giving him a lift anyway? Do you normally bring your pupils home from school?’

‘I didn’t bring him home from school. He played truant today, not for the first time.’

‘Yes, I’ve heard about his behaviour before this.’

‘What did you do?’

‘I went to the school and talked with the Deputy Head.’

‘No, I mean what did you do when you got home? Did you talk to Mark?’

‘Of course I did. I told him to behave himself or there’d be trouble. I gather he didn’t listen. All right, leave it to me. I’ll deal with him.’

She stared, aghast.

‘And just what do you mean by that?’ she demanded.

‘I mean I’ll make sure he knows the consequences of disobeying me again. Isn’t that what you came here for?’

‘No!’

Evie spoke so loudly and emphatically that he was actually startled.

‘That is not what I came here for,’ she said firmly. ‘That boy is very unhappy, and I’m trying to find out why. I hadn’t been here five minutes before I could see the reason. Heavens, what a place!’

‘What’s the matter with it?’ he demanded.

‘It’s like a museum. Full of things, but actually empty.’

He looked around at the expensive furnishing, then back at her. He was totally baffled.

‘You call this empty?’

‘It’s empty of everything that matters—warmth, parents to greet him when he comes home.’

‘His mother is dead,’ Justin Dane said in a hard voice.

‘She’s worse than dead, Mr Dane. She’s missing. Where are the pictures of her?’

‘After what she did, I saw no need to keep them, much less put them on display.’

‘But what about Mark? What would he have liked?’

She heard his sharp intake of breath before he said, ‘You’re trespassing on matters that do not concern you.’

‘You’re wrong,’ she said firmly. ‘I am Mark’s teacher and I’m concerned about his welfare. Anything about him concerns me, especially his suffering.’

‘What do you know about his suffering?’

‘Only what he’s trying to tell me without words. I rely on you to tell me the rest. What exactly did she do that entitles you to airbrush her out of existence?’

But he wouldn’t explain, she could see. His face had closed against her.

It was her own fault, she realised. What had she been thinking of to have lost her temper?

She took some deep breaths and tried to calm down. He seemed to be doing much the same for there was a silence. Turning, she saw that he was at the window with his back to her.

He was a tall man, well over six foot, and leanly built with broad shoulders which were emphasised by the way he was standing. When he left the window and began to stride about the room she was struck by how graceless he was. There was strength there, muscle, power, but nothing gentle or yielding.

Heaven help the person who really gets on his wrong side, Evie thought. He’d be pitiless. What kind of life does that poor child have?

When he spoke it was with an exasperated sigh, suggesting that he was doing his best with this awkward woman, but it was very difficult.

‘This is getting us nowhere,’ he said. ‘I accept that you came here with the best of intentions, and I’m glad to know about his misbehaviour. But your job is done now, and I suggest you leave it there.’

She lost her temper again. She couldn’t help it. This man was a machine for making her angry.

‘My job is not done as long as you’re talking about Mark’s ‘‘misbehaviour’’. He is not misbehaving. His mother’s dead, his father’s trying to pretend she never existed. He is miserable, unhappy, wretched, lonely, and that should be your priority. Am I getting through?’

‘Now look—’

A sound from the doorway made them both look, and see Mark. She wondered how long he’d been standing there, and how much he’d heard.

‘Hallo, Dad.’

‘Hallo, Mark. Has anyone offered Miss Wharton any tea?’

‘Yes, Lily’s made some.’

‘Then I suggest you take it upstairs and show Miss Wharton your room. She’d like to see some of your interests.’

She guessed that he would really have liked to throw her out, but he would not do so in front of his son.

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I appreciate your being so helpful.’

That annoyed him, she was glad to notice.

Mark’s room turned out to contain all the gadgets any boy could want, including a music centre and computer. Evie guessed she was supposed to admire, and conclude that Mark had everything. Instead, she shivered.

Such a profusion of mechanical things, and nothing human. Even here, no pictures of the child’s mother were on show.

‘How powerful is your computer?’ she asked.

He switched on and showed her. As she’d expected it was state of the art, linked to a high-speed Internet connection.

‘It’s the next generation,’ he said. ‘They aren’t even in the shops yet, but Dad brought it home for me. He makes sure my machine is always ahead of the other kids’ machines.’

‘I’ll bet your school loves him for that,’ Evie observed wryly.

‘At my last school they told him he was throwing everything out of kilter by making their computers look outdated. He replaced every machine in the entire school with the newest thing on the market. Then he turned to the headmistress and said, ‘Not out of kilter now.’ And he winked.’

‘He what? Mark, I don’t believe it. I shouldn’t think your father knows how to wink.’

‘He can sometimes. He says there are things any man can do if he has to.’

So, Evie reflected, winking was Justin Dane’s idea of putting on the charm, something a man could do when he had to, but which was otherwise a waste of time. But she felt she was getting to know him now, and ventured to say, ‘I’ll bet he bought you a new computer too, and it was one step ahead of the school’s.’

Mark grinned and nodded.

‘What do you want to do when you leave school, Mark?’

‘I’d like to do something with languages. Dad doesn’t like it, but it’s what I want.’

‘Why isn’t your father keen?’

‘He says there’s no money in it.’

‘Well, that’s true,’ she agreed with a rueful grin.

‘But I don’t care about that,’ he said eagerly. ‘Languages take you into other people’s minds, and different worlds, so you’re not trapped any more, and—’

This was the boy she knew in class, words tumbling over each other in his joy at the glorious flame he’d discovered. Evie smiled encouragement.

‘I like Italian best,’ he said. ‘One day I want to go to Italy—hang on.’

A knock at the door had signalled Lily’s arrival with tea. While Mark was letting her in Evie looked at the shelf behind her chair and saw, with pleasure, how many books it contained. She took down the nearest volume and jumped as a photograph fell out from between the pages.

Picking it up, she saw that it was of a young woman with a little boy, plainly a much younger Mark. They were laughing directly into each other’s eyes.

His mother, she thought.

Something caught in her throat at the feeling that blazed from that picture. If ever two people had loved each other it was these two. But she was dead, and now his life was lived with a harsh father in a house whose luxury couldn’t hide its bleakness.

Suddenly she became aware of the silence and looked up to find Mark watching her, his face pale.

‘Oh, that’s what became of it,’ he said. ‘I was afraid I’d lost it.’

He held out his hand and she gave him the photograph.

‘Is that—?’

‘Shall I pour you some tea?’ he asked, almost too politely.

His face was implacable, setting her at a distance. At that moment his likeness to his father was alarming.

‘Thank you, I’d like some,’ she said, recognising that she must back off.

He put the picture away and poured her tea, taking up their previous conversation about Italy, a country that he’d evidently studied closely.

‘You’ve got the makings of a scholar,’ she said at last.

‘Don’t let Dad hear you say that,’ he warned. ‘He’d hit the roof.’

‘Yes, I suppose he would. I guess you need to be a bit older before you can stand up to him.’

‘People can’t often stand up to Dad. He just flattens them. Except you.’ He gave a sigh of delight. ‘You flattened him.’

‘Mark,’ she said, laughing, ‘life is about a lot more than who flattens whom.’ She couldn’t resist adding, ‘Whatever your father thinks.’

‘Yeah, right,’ he said, unconvinced. ‘But it helps. And you’re the only one who’s ever flattened Dad.’

‘Stop saying that,’ she begged. ‘And how much did you overhear, anyway?’

‘Enough to know that you fla—’

‘All right, all right,’ she said hastily.

‘Wish I could do it.’

Diplomatically she decided not to answer this.

‘I have to be going,’ she said.

‘I wish you wouldn’t. It’s nice with you here.’

‘I’ll see you at school tomorrow. That is—’ she added casually, ‘if you’re there.’

‘I will be.’

‘No more truanting?’

‘Promise.’

They shook hands.

‘Good,’ said Justin from the door. ‘The best deals are made over a handshake.’

There was nothing but calm approval in his voice, and she had no way of knowing if he’d heard his son’s words.

‘We’ve made a very good deal,’ Evie assured him. ‘Mark has promised me that he’ll attend school every day from now on, and since I know he’s a man of his word I consider the matter closed.’

Her eyes told Justin that if he was wise he’d better consider the matter closed too. She thought she detected a flicker of surprise in his expression, but all he said was, ‘Mark, perhaps you’ll show our guest out? Goodbye, Miss Wharton.’

He gave her a brief nod and walked away, depriving her of the chance to talk to him again. Which, she thought, had probably been the idea.

Chapter Two

EVIE didn’t teach Mark the next day, but she saw him at a distance and knew he was in school. On the following morning he was there in her class, quiet but attentive. As he left she drew him briefly aside.

‘All right?’ she asked briefly.

‘Fine.’

‘He didn’t give you a hard time after I left?’

‘He never said a word about my playing truant, but he asked a lot of questions about you.’

‘What sort of questions?’

‘About who you were, how much did I know about you, how were you different to the other teachers?’ There was a touch of mischief in his voice as he added, ‘I said you were no different from the others, and he said, ‘You mean they all go around on motorbikes?’

She tried to suppress a chuckle and failed.

‘You’d better run along,’ she said hastily.

The rest of the week passed uneventfully. Mark attended every day, as he’d promised, and Evie was able to feel mildly satisfied for a job well done.

Her personal life was less tidy. Andrew was growing disgruntled at the feeling that he didn’t come first with Evie. She knew she could save the relationship with a huge effort. But then what? Marriage, which she’d always avoided? Just how hard did she really want to try? She wished she knew the answer.

Tonight he was taking her to dinner and she had discarded jeans and boots in favour of an elegant blue dress and a necklace of filigree silver. She stayed at her desk for a couple of hours after school, catching up on paperwork until Andrew called for her. She was just finishing when Justin Dane walked into the classroom.

She could feel his anger before she saw it. It was like watching a volcano preparing to erupt.

‘So much for deals,’ were his first words.

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘You made a deal with my son, a young man of his word, according to you. He was to stop playing truant.’

‘And he has. He’s been here every day since. I’ve seen him.’

‘Today?’

‘Yes, this afternoon. In fact, he did a particularly good piece of translation. I’ve just finished marking it—here.’

She pulled the book out and showed him.

‘Then where is Mark now?’ he asked in a tight voice.

‘He didn’t come home?’

‘No.’

‘Perhaps he went out with friends?’

‘He isn’t allowed to just go off like that. Either Lily or I must know in advance.’

‘Are you saying that he’s wandering around alone?’ she asked, horrified.

‘I don’t know. I wish I did. Where did you find him last time?’

She scratched her head. ‘I know where it is but I didn’t notice the name of the road.’

‘OK, you can take me there.’

His casual way of giving her orders made her grind her teeth and say, ‘Since you seem not to have noticed, I am about to go out on a date.’

‘How could I have noticed?’ he asked, puzzled.

‘Because I’m dolled up,’ she said, indicating her dress and make-up. Unwisely, she added, ‘I don’t dress like this unless I have to.’

Incredibly his lips twitched. ‘I believe you.’

‘Mr Dane, I’m sure this will come as news to you, but I do have a life. I don’t just sit here waiting for you to give me orders.’

‘So you won’t help me?’

‘I didn’t say that, but ‘‘please’’ would be good.’

‘All right. Please. Now can we get going?’

She looked at her watch. Andrew would be here soon. She guessed how he’d feel if she put him off, but she couldn’t shut out the memory of Mark’s unhappy face and the miserable hunch of his shoulders.

‘All right,’ she said. ‘But I don’t have long, and I must make a call first.’

She dialled Andrew on her cellphone and was relieved when he answered.

‘Darling, I’m going to be a little late,’ she said. ‘Can you leave it for an hour?’

She heard him sigh. ‘An hour then.’

Justin’s luxurious car was waiting in the school yard. For a while, on the journey, neither of them spoke. Evie remembered Mark saying that his father had asked a lot of questions about her. He’d described some of the questions, but how many others had there been?

She took a cautious look at Justin’s profile, which was set and hard, otherwise she would have called it attractive, with a sharply defined nose and a firm chin. A good man to have on your side in a fight. Otherwise, steer clear.

‘So, tell me everything that happened,’ she said at last.

‘I called home and asked to speak to Mark. Lily said he wasn’t there and she didn’t know where he was. Just like last time.’

‘So you immediately blamed me.’

‘I thought you might have some ideas.’

‘I don’t know why we’re going back to this road,’ she said. ‘He’s hardly likely to be there a second time.’

‘Unless there’s something nearby that attracts him. A cinema, a shop?’

‘It’s a tree-lined street. And so are all the others near it. What’s the matter?’

She had noticed him grow suddenly alert, slowing the car and looking around him at the passing streets.

‘I know this part,’ he said. ‘We used to live here.’

‘When?’

‘About three years ago. Is this where you saw him?’

‘In the next road.’

He turned into the street where she had seen Mark slouching along, but, as she had feared, there was no sign of him.

‘Where was your house?’

‘Another five minutes,’ he said tensely. ‘The next turning, then the first on the right.’ He was turning the car as he spoke.

‘There he is,’ Evie said quickly. ‘In the cemetery.’

Of course, she thought. His mother must be buried here.

Justin was drawing over to the kerb and getting out. She hurried to catch up with him and together they climbed the few stone steps to the raised ground where the graves were laid out.

Something made the boy look round as they approached and it was Evie he saw first. His face brightened and he took a step towards her.

‘Hallo, son,’ Justin said.

The child checked himself before turning obediently to his father and there was nothing in his face but blankness. It was enough to stop Justin in his tracks. Evie clenched her hands, hoping he wouldn’t berate his son, but he only turned away with a shrug that would have suggested helplessness in anyone else.

Evie took her chance, walking up to Mark and speaking quietly so that Justin couldn’t hear.

‘You know,’ she said, trying not to sound too heavy, ‘this isn’t playing fair. You promised me, no more playing truant.’

‘But I’ve been at school,’ he said quickly.

‘Don’t split hairs. No truancy means no vanishing after school either. No forcing us to chase around after you, and sending your father grey-haired with worry.’

She thought she saw a smile of disbelief flicker across the child’s face.

‘I just like being here,’ he said.

‘Had you been here the other night, when I caught up with you?’

‘Yes. It’s beautiful.’

‘Show me.’

He took her hand and led her deep into the cemetery, which was old-fashioned with elaborate Victorian graves and mausoleums. Grass and trees made the effect charming rather than bleak.

Once she looked over her shoulder and saw Justin standing where they had left him, at a distance, watching them, motionless, isolated.

They wandered on for a while.

‘Your mother’s dead, isn’t she?’ she asked.

A nod.

‘And is she buried here?’

A shake of the head. Then, ‘But she ought to be,’ he said so quietly that she wondered if she had heard properly.

‘What do you mean, Mark?’

‘Nothing. I suppose we’d better go back to Dad.’

Justin was still standing in the same place, watching for their return. For a moment Evie had an impression of uncertainty, but that must be an illusion caused by the distance.

‘Are you ready to come home?’ he asked Mark as they neared.

Quickly he looked up at Evie. ‘Are you coming with us?’

‘I can’t. I’m going out tonight and I’m late already.’

‘Please,’ he said.

Beside her she could sense Justin turn to stone, waiting for her reply.

‘All right,’ she said. ‘But I can’t stay for long.’

Mark’s face broke into a smile of relief. Justin relaxed slightly.

‘Let’s go,’ he said briefly, indicating the way back to the car.

Mark grabbed hold of her hand and almost dragged her along, making sure that she got into the back seat with him. Justin started up the car without a glance at them.

Nobody spoke during the journey. Mark kept hold of her hand and seemed content simply to have her there. Evie was glad of anything she could do for him, but she was beginning to be alarmed. This child barely knew her, except in class, yet he clung to her as though she were his saviour.

She didn’t know what he wanted to be saved from, but the glimpse she’d had of his lonely life had filled her with dismay. And something told her there was worse to come.

Lily opened the front door for them.

‘Miss Wharton’s really hungry,’ Mark said quickly.

‘I’ll go and see to supper,’ she said, and vanished.

Mark gave a violent sneeze.

‘I hope you haven’t caught cold,’ Evie said.

‘I’m all right,’ he said quickly, and vanished after Lily.

‘I hope you can stay with us long enough for supper at least,’ Justin murmured.

‘I’d better make a phone call.’

Andrew’s voice, when he answered, was revealing. It had a subdued exasperation that told her he’d been expecting this.

‘I’ve got a situation here that I can’t walk away from,’ she pleaded.

‘Another one?’

‘Darling, that’s not fair,’ she said, and sensed Justin looking quickly at her. ‘I didn’t ask for this to happen—’

‘You never do. Things just happen to you. Evie, did it ever occur to you that your life is too crowded? Maybe you need to junk a few things, starting with me.’

‘You mean break up?’ she asked, aghast.

‘Isn’t that where we’re heading?’

‘No, no,’ she said frantically. ‘I don’t want to do that. Please, Andrew, it’s too important to decide like this—’

‘Sure, let’s put it off for a while so that you can keep me dangling at your pleasure.’

‘Is that really what I do?’ she asked penitently.

‘I can’t believe that you really don’t see it. C’mon, Evie, be brave. Say you don’t care about me—’

‘But I do care about you. It’s just that tonight—please be patient. I’ll call you again tomorrow, and maybe we can fix something—’

‘Yes, sure we will. Anything you say.’ The line clicked.

‘Andrew—Andrew?’

She stared at the phone, trying to understand that dear, gentle Andrew had hung up on her.

‘Did he give you a hard time?’ Justin Dane asked.

‘I can hardly blame him,’ she said edgily. ‘Wouldn’t you be annoyed?’

‘Probably. You sound as though you’re leading him a merry dance.’

‘You’d have hung up long ago,’ she said.

But he surprised her by giving her an odd look and saying, ‘Maybe not.’

She wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but she had no time to brood on her own problems now. Only Mark mattered. She couldn’t forget how he’d brightened at the sight of her, or how quickly he’d said she was hungry, an excuse to keep her here.

‘All right,’ Justin resumed in a businesslike tone. ‘You’re entitled to an explanation, so I’ll make things clear.’

‘Not now.’

He stared. ‘What?’

‘What Mark needs now is for us all to sit down to supper and be friendly—or at least act friendly. Explanations can come later. Then I’ll tell you what I want to know.’

From his frown she guessed that this wasn’t how people usually treated him. And she seemed to have the gift of reading his thoughts, for she could follow the lightning process by which he worked out how to turn this to advantage.

‘Fine,’ he said. ‘Then if you’ll have supper with Mark I can do some work.’

‘No, you can have supper with us,’ she said firmly. ‘How often do you and he eat together?’

‘Not often, but I have things to do.’

‘Indeed you have, some more important than others. The most important is to be with your son.’

His lips tightened. ‘Miss Wharton, I’m grateful for the trouble you’re taking for Mark, but this is not your decision—’

‘Oh, but it is. Let me make it clear to you how much my decision it is. If I can give up my evening for your son, so can you. Either you agree to be there for supper, or I’m leaving, right now. And you can explain my absence any way you like.’

Now he was really angry. ‘I’m not in the habit of being dictated to, in my own home or anywhere else.’

She was too wise to answer. She merely followed her instincts and met his eyes. Anger met anger. Defiance met defiance. Mark, returning, found them like that.

‘Lily says she’s laid supper on the terrace,’ he said. ‘Shall I tell her you’re coming?’

For a moment she thought Justin would refuse and walk out. But at last he smiled at his son.

‘Fine,’ he said. ‘Lead the way.’

Mark instantly took Evie’s hand and almost dragged her out on to the terrace overlooking the garden. It was a pleasant place with red flagstones and wooden railings, expensively designed to look rustic. Here a wooden table had been set for supper.

The meal was excellent—spaghetti, well cooked, expertly served; fish, coffee made to perfection.

‘So, let’s hear it,’ Justin said to his son when Lily had left them. ‘Why did you vanish tonight and worry everyone?’

‘Oh, leave that until later,’ Evie said before the boy could reply. ‘Mark’s the thoughtful type, like me. Sometimes we like to have a little time on our own, away from the crowd. There’s nothing wrong with that.’

‘I only—’ Justin began.

‘I said ‘‘enough’’,’ Evie interrupted him. She spoke lightly, determined to keep the atmosphere pleasant, but she knew Justin understood her meaning.

‘I was telling your father about the last piece of work you did for me,’ she told Mark. ‘A really good translation.’ She turned to Justin. ‘He’s one of my best students. You should be proud of him.’

‘If you say he works hard, I am proud of him,’ he replied.

She wanted to yell at him, Try to sound as though you mean it. Say something nice without freezing, or sounding as though every word has to be wrung out of you.

Instead, she said, ‘According to his regular teachers there are other things to be proud of. They say Mark is always the first to volunteer, to help out. He’s a good team player.’

Justin seemed a little taken aback by this, and Evie realised that being a good team player probably didn’t rank high in his list of priorities. She was sure of it when he grunted, ‘Well, I guess that can be useful too. What do you mean, his regular teachers? Aren’t you regular?’

‘No, I’m just a fill-in for one term. Then I’m back to my real job, translating books.’

‘You’re not staying?’ Mark was crestfallen.

‘I never stay long anywhere,’ she admitted. ‘I like to take off into the wide blue yonder. There’s always new places to travel. I’ll be going back to Italy before the end of the year.’

‘Where?’ he asked at once.

‘Travelling all over, studying dialects.’

‘But I thought they all spoke Italian.’

‘They do, but the regions have their dialects which are almost like different languages.’

‘How different?’ he wanted to know.

‘Well, if you wanted to say, “Strike while the iron’s hot” in Italian, it would be, “Battere il ferro quando ‘e caldo”. If you were Venetian you’d say, “Bati fin chel fero xe caldo’’, and if you came from Naples you’d say, “Vatte ‘o ‘fierro quann’ ‘e ccavero”.’

‘That’s great!’ Mark said, thrilled. ‘All those different ways to say one thing.’

‘But what’s the point?’ Justin asked. ‘Why don’t they all just speak Italian?’

‘Because a regional dialect springs from the people,’ Evie explained. ‘It’s part of their history, their personality. It’s their heritage. Don’t you care about your heritage?’

His reaction startled her. His face seemed to close, like the door of a tomb, she later thought. After a moment’s black silence he said, ‘I just think one language is more efficient.’

‘Of course it’s more efficient,’ she conceded. ‘But who wants to be efficient all the time? Sometimes it’s more fun to be colourful.’

‘I wouldn’t get far running a business on that theory.’

‘The Italians aren’t a businesslike people, thank goodness,’ she said, trying to lighten the atmosphere. ‘They’re delightful, and full of life and music. All those things matter too. Who wants to be efficient all the time?’

‘I do,’ he said simply.

Evie and Mark exchanged glances. Justin saw them but said nothing.

‘Will you send me postcards from Italy?’ Mark asked wistfully.

‘Lots and lots of them, from everywhere.’

He began bombarding her with questions which she answered willingly. Justin seemed content to sit there and listen, except once when he said, ‘Take a break from talking, Mark, and eat something.’

His tone was pleasant enough and Mark stopped to take a few mouthfuls. Evie took advantage of the moment to look around the garden, and saw a dog walking towards them, followed by five puppies, who seemed about six weeks old.

‘That’s Cindy,’ Mark told her. ‘She belongs to Lily. They all do. And there’s Hank. He’s their father.’

A large dog, part Alsatian and part something else, had appeared around the side of the house, accompanied by Lily bearing food bowls. She set them down on the terrace, returned to the kitchen and came back with more bowls. Under Evie’s fascinated eyes the family converged on their supper, the five pups diving in vigorously.

They finished quickly, then looked around for more to eat. Cindy, evidently knowing the danger, had cleared her bowl fast. Hank seemed less well prepared, for some of his food was still there and the smallest pup advanced on him purposefully.

The huge dog began to snarl horribly, revealing terrible great teeth. Undeterred, the pup went on towards the bowl, while his father hurled warning after warning.

‘Shouldn’t we rescue that little creature?’ Evie said, beginning to rise.

But Justin laid a hand on her arm, detaining her.

‘Leave them,’ he said. ‘It’s all right.’

‘But Hank will devour the pup in one mouthful,’ she protested.

‘Nothing will happen,’ he said. ‘It never does.’

Reluctantly, she sat down and watched as the puppy, unimpressed by his father’s belligerence, reached the bowl and tucked in.

At once the snarls stopped. Hank was left looking around with a puzzled expression as if asking what he was expected to do now.

Something in the huge animal’s air of baffled pathos struck Evie as irresistibly funny and she began to laugh.

‘That poor dog,’ she choked. ‘Beneath all the aggro he’s just an old softy. Oh, dear—’

Waves of laughter swept her again.

‘Come here, boy,’ she said, holding out her hand. Hank came at once and sat gazing up at her, silently seeking sympathy.

‘Poor fellow, you hardly had any supper,’ she said, taking his face between her hands. ‘Here, let’s see if you like spaghetti. Yes, you do, don’t you?’

She wrapped her arms around him, chuckling and kissing his forehead at the same time. Lily joined in her amusement, and so did Mark.

She glanced up at Justin, hoping that he too might be laughing. But he wasn’t.

He was staring at her with a stunned expression on his face, like a man who’d been struck by lightning.

Lily intervened and hustled her little ‘family’ out of sight. Evie went to wash her hands where Hank had licked them, and returned to find Lily serving gateau and cream.

‘You look ever so pretty tonight,’ Mark ventured. ‘You don’t usually dress like that.’

‘I was going out,’ she told him.

‘On a date?’

‘Yes.’

‘Have you got a boyfriend?’

‘Yes,’ she said, laughing.

‘Mark,’ Justin muttered through gritted teeth.

‘Will he be mad at you?’ Mark asked, undeterred.

‘Nothing I can’t handle,’ she said cheerfully.

‘I bet you could handle anyone. I bet you’d really tell him off.’

‘If I did that he wouldn’t be my boyfriend for very long,’ she pointed out.

‘Are you nuts about him?’

‘Mark!’ This time Justin covered his eyes and his voice betrayed only an agony of embarrassment. Evie almost liked him.

‘That’s a secret,’ she said.

She was aware of Justin uncovering his eyes and looking at her, but she kept her attention on Mark.

‘Is he nuts about you?’ Mark persisted.

‘He probably won’t be after the way I stood him up tonight,’ she said lightly.

‘But if he’s really nuts about—’

‘Mark, that’s enough,’ Justin said edgily.

She noticed that the boy fell silent at once, as though a light had gone out inside him.

‘I honestly don’t mind,’ she said. ‘We’re just joking.’

She gave Mark a reassuring smile and followed it with a broad wink. After a moment he winked back, then cast an uncertain glance at his father, as though worried about his reaction. Evie followed his look and was startled by Justin’s expression. It vanished at once, and she supposed she might have been mistaken. But for a brief moment he’d looked almost forlorn, like a child excluded from a charmed circle.

Absurd. Whatever this harsh man was, he wasn’t forlorn.

Chapter Three

AS THE meal ended Lily came to say that Justin was wanted on the phone. Guessing that he would now be gone for some time, Evie agreed to Mark’s suggestion that they go to his room and, with a sudden burst of inspiration, she signalled a question to Lily. Receiving a nod in return, she scooped up a couple of puppies and followed Mark upstairs.

Now he was more relaxed, chatting about the dogs and what fun he had taking photographs of them.

‘Can I see?’ Evie asked at once.

Of course he owned the very latest state-of-the-art digital camera, and handled it like an expert.

‘I’m green with envy.’ She sighed. ‘I can’t work mine and it’s much simpler than yours.’

‘It’s easy,’ he said innocently.

‘Yeah, for some people!’

He giggled. ‘Dad can’t understand this one either. He gets so mad.’

Mark switched on the computer and called up pictures of the dogs. He had, apparently, taken dozens every day, almost obsessively, reinforcing Evie’s feeling that this child lived inside himself far too much.

‘Don’t you have any pics of your friends?’ she asked.

He shrugged uneasily. ‘I haven’t lived here long. I don’t know many people.’

‘But you had a house nearby.’

‘We moved when Mum left. Dad bought this place. He said he never wanted to see that house again. And I changed schools.’

‘Your mother left?’

‘Yes, she went away and didn’t come back. I’ve got some more pictures here—’

He opened another file of pictures of the puppies and she let the matter go, guessing this was his way of describing his mother’s death.

There were so many pictures that it was hard to take in details of any one, but suddenly a collection of them caught her eye. Mark seemed to have taken them at the rate of one per second, so that it was like looking at a film strip.

He had caught his father at the moment when one of the pups had approached him and was ordered off. Undeterred, the little creature had scrambled up on to a sofa and made his way determinedly on to the desk.

Almost as though it was happening now, Evie found herself holding her breath against the moment when Justin angrily swept him off. But it hadn’t happened. Instead he’d picked the puppy up in one hand, holding him before his face with a look of gentle resignation. It was the gentleness that particularly struck her.

Then he’d turned his head, seeming to become aware of his son and the camera. He’d held his captive out, clearly ordering that he be removed, and he’d almost been smiling.

She took a moment to study Justin’s face. It wasn’t handsome. The features were too irregular for that, the nose too large. Even in a milder mood he still gave the impression of power, and his dark eyes radiated an intensity that, she guessed, would put other men in the shade.

And women would be attracted to him, she knew. Not herself, because he wasn’t the kind of man that had ever appealed to her. Too impatient, too sure of himself, too unwilling to listen. She could imagine having some interesting fights with him, but not warming to him.

‘Hey!’ Mark said suddenly.

Startled, she glanced his way with a smile, and heard the click of the camera.

‘Gotcha!’ he said.

‘Oi, cheeky!’ she said, laughing outright, and he promptly snapped her again.

‘Now look,’ he said, opening the back of the camera and extracting a tiny card. He plugged this directly into the computer and the two pictures of Evie came up side by side on the screen.

‘That’s brilliant,’ she breathed. ‘Why doesn’t it happen like that when I do it?’

Mark just grinned.

‘Yes, I know,’ she said ruefully. ‘Some of us can, and some of us can’t. They’re beautiful, Mark.’

He took a small memory stick from a drawer, connected it to the back, copied the pictures on to it, and gave it to her.

‘Just plug it into your machine when you get home,’ he said.

‘Thank you. I’ll give you this back at school.’

This wasn’t how she’d meant the conversation to go. She should be asking him why he kept vanishing and trying to understand him. But she felt that the key to understanding lay elsewhere. The friendly feeling they’d achieved would do him more good than all the talk in the world.

‘Will your father cut up rough about tonight?’ she asked gently. ‘I imagine he’s not easy to live with.’

‘He’s not so bad,’ Mark said unexpectedly. ‘He gets angry, but he’s always sorry afterwards.’

This was the last thing she had expected to hear.

‘He shouldn’t get mad at all,’ she said. ‘Why can’t he see that you’re unhappy?’

He considered this with an oddly adult expression.

‘He’s unhappy too,’ he said at last.

‘About your mother?’

‘I think so, but—there’s lots of other stuff that he can’t talk about. I used to hear him and Mum rowing—terrible things—she said he had something dark inside him, and why couldn’t he talk about it? But he said talking wouldn’t change anything, and walked out. I was watching from the stairs and I saw his face. I thought it would look angry, but it didn’t. Just terribly sad.’

‘Did he know you saw him?’

Mark shook his head. ‘He’d have hated that. He doesn’t like people to know how he feels.’

He fell silent. Then he said unexpectedly, ‘I keep wishing I could help him.’

She gave him a quick look of surprise, asking, ‘Shouldn’t he be helping you?’

‘We help each other. Well, that’s what I wish. I want to be—it’s just that—if only—’

His shoulders sagged and she saw the glint of tears on his cheeks. Evie abandoned words and took him in her arms, holding him while his shoulders shook.

‘I’m sorry,’ he sobbed.

‘You’ve nothing to be sorry about. If you’re sad you need to cry, and tell someone.’

‘There isn’t anyone,’ he sobbed. ‘Nobody understands.’

She did the only thing she could—tightened her arms and rocked back and forth, trying to comfort him.

A sound made her look up to see Justin standing in the open door. He stood dead still as though amazement had stopped him in his tracks, and she was reminded of the way he had looked at her on the terrace.

Quietly she shook her head, and he retreated without a word.

Mark seemed unaware. He freed himself and straightened up, wiping his eyes and managing a smile.

‘Sorry,’ he said again.

‘Don’t be,’ she told him.

He was obviously embarrassed, as though feeling he’d given way to an unmanly display.

Sweet heaven! she thought. He’s only twelve years old.

‘It’s getting late,’ she said. ‘Why don’t you go to bed?’

‘Will you come and say goodnight before you go?’

‘Yes, I promise.’

She gave him another hug, then went downstairs, feeling thoughtful.

Through the open door of the front room she could see Justin, and walked in.

‘Is he all right?’ Justin asked gruffly.

‘Not really. But he’s calmed down, and he’s going to bed. I promised to look in and say goodnight before I leave, but I think you should go up to him now.’

‘There’s no point,’ he said wearily. ‘This has happened before. He won’t talk to me. He hates me.’

‘He doesn’t,’ she said at once.

He looked at her sharply. ‘You know that? What did he say?’

‘I can’t tell you what he said. It’s confidential between him and me—’

‘That’s nonsense,’ he said impatiently. ‘I’m his father—’

‘And I’m the person you had to bring in to help you. I’m the one he talks to, although he said very little even to me. I’ll tell you that he doesn’t hate you. Far from it. But I won’t break his confidence. Please understand that that is final.’

‘Like hell it is!’

‘OK, throw me out!’

‘Don’t tempt me.’

For answer she pulled out her cellphone and dialled. ‘Andrew?’

Justin’s hand closed over hers, gripping her so tightly that it hurt. ‘It’s better if you stay.’

‘Really?’ she said, freeing her hand and flexing the fingers. ‘I’m glad you made your mind up about that. I can’t stand a man who dithers.’

He drew a deep breath. ‘Now Andrew will be wondering what happened. You’d better call him back.’

‘No need. I wasn’t really connected.’

‘Playing games?’

‘No, just warning you not to try to push me around. I’ll help all I can, for the sake of that poor child. But it has to be on my terms, because they’re the only ones I can use.’

‘I’m the same way myself,’ he said grimly.

‘Then one of us is going to have to give in.’

She realised then how far she had travelled in a short time. Once she’d feared to antagonise Justin in case it rebounded on Mark. But now her instincts were telling her that he only respected people who stood up to him.

Deference equalled disaster.

Besides, she didn’t do deference. She didn’t know how.

From the thunderous silence she guessed he was assessing his options, realising that they were limited, but not knowing how to admit the fact.

‘Don’t you think you should tell me what’s really happening?’ she said. ‘Why did Mark go to that cemetery? You said his mother was dead, so I thought she must be buried there, but he says not.’

‘No, she’s not. Did he say anything else? Or can’t you tell me?’

‘He said she ought to be there.’

‘Hell!’ he said softly.

‘What did he mean?’

‘My wife left us two years ago.’

‘Us?’

‘She left us both. There was another man. She went to live with him in Switzerland.’

‘She didn’t take her son with her?’ Evie asked, aghast. ‘Or did you stop her?’

‘I wouldn’t have stopped her if she’d wanted him, but I don’t think she even thought of it,’ he said in a soft voice that had a hint of savagery.

Evie rubbed her hand over her eyes.

‘I just don’t understand how any mother can do that,’ she said distractedly. ‘To leave a man—well, it happens if the relationship isn’t working. But to abandon a defenceless child—’

‘It’s the crime of crimes,’ Justin said sombrely. ‘It’s unnatural, unforgivable—’

He stopped. Evie stared at him, alerted by something in his voice that went beyond anger. Hatred.

‘That poor kid,’ Evie breathed. ‘Did she stay in touch?’

‘She wrote to him, telephoned sometimes. There were presents at Christmas and birthdays. But he wasn’t invited to visit her. The new boyfriend didn’t want him, you see, and he was much more important to her than her son.’

Again there was that bitter edge of something that was more than anger. More like pain.

‘It must have devastated him,’ she murmured. ‘How does he cope?’

‘He’s brave and strong,’ Justin said unexpectedly. ‘And he knows what the world is like now.’

‘He’s too young to learn that side of the world,’ Evie said quickly.

He gave a mirthless laugh.

‘Is there a proper age for a boy to learn that his mother doesn’t want him?’

‘No, of course not,’ she agreed.

‘Any age is too young, but it happens when it happens, ten, nine—seven.’

As he said ‘seven’ his voice changed, making her look at him. But he didn’t seem to notice her. He was talking almost to himself.

‘And then the whole world becomes unreal, because it can’t have happened, yet it has happened. All the reference points are gone and there’s only chaos. Disbelief becomes a refuge when there’s nothing else.’

‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘That’s how it must be.’

‘But it isn’t a reliable refuge,’ he said in a low voice. ‘The world blows it apart again and again, and it becomes harder to find excuses to believe the thing that’s least painful.’

‘Mr Dane—what are you telling me?’

‘I’d have done anything to save my son from the knowledge that his mother rejected him. I stalled on the divorce, went out to Switzerland to see her, begged her to return to us. I hated her by then but I’d have taken her back for his sake.

‘I even bought this house for her. It’s bigger, better than the one we had. She liked nice things. I thought—’

‘You thought you could get her back by spending money?’ Evie said, speaking cautiously.

‘She wouldn’t even come home for a while, even to look at it. She was besotted by her lover. She cared about nothing else.’

‘What happened?’

‘She died. They died together when his car crashed. I was over there at the time, and since she was still legally my wife it fell to me to oversee her funeral. I suppose it should have occurred to me to bring her home, but it didn’t. She’s buried in Switzerland.’

‘But—Mark—you were willing to do so much to get her back for him—’

‘When she was alive, yes. But when she was dead, what difference could it make?’

She stared at him, nonplussed by a man who could be so sensitively generous on the one hand, and so dully oblivious on the other.

‘I think it would have made a difference to Mark to have her nearby, even if she was dead,’ she tried to explain. ‘People need a focus for their grief, somewhere where they can feel closer to the person they’ve lost. That’s what graves are really for.

‘And Mark feels it more because you sold the house where she used to be and made him live in a place where she never was. So he can’t go around and remember that this was where they shared a joke, and that was where she used to make his tea.

‘He needs those memories, but where does he go for them now? This great mausoleum, which is empty when he comes home every day?’

‘Not empty. Lily’s here, and he wouldn’t want me. You seem to see everything, surely you’ve seen that?’

‘I’ve seen that the two of you aren’t as close as you ought to be. There has to be something you can do about that. I’m guessing you don’t spend very much time with him.’

‘I have to work all hours. The business doesn’t run itself. I created it and I need to keep my eye on it all the time.’

‘And it’s more important than your son?’

‘I do the best I can for my son,’ he snapped.

‘Then your best is lousy.’

‘I’m trying to make a good life for him—’

‘Yes, I’ve seen that ‘‘good life’’ upstairs. The latest computer, the latest printer, the latest digital camera—’

‘All right, you think I put too much emphasis on money,’ he broke in, ‘but you can rely on money. It doesn’t betray you. And what you’ve bought really belongs to you.’

‘So then you control it?’

‘Right,’ he agreed, not seeing the trap she’d opened up at his feet.

‘And that’s what really matters, isn’t it?’ she challenged him. ‘Control.’

‘Sometimes it’s important to be in control of things. In fact, it’s always important.’

‘Just things? Or people. Why did your wife really leave you?’

He flashed her a look of pure hatred. ‘I guess I didn’t pay enough,’ he snapped.

Before she could answer he walked out of the room and slammed the door.

Evie was left silently cursing herself.

I had no right to say that about his wife. She sighed. Why do I keep losing my temper? Now I’ll have to find him and apologise. Oh, hell! Why don’t I grow up?

Hearing him outside the door, she braced herself for the worst, but his manner, when he entered, was quieter.

‘Shall we start again?’ he asked mildly.

‘That would be a good idea. Please forget that last question. I had no right—’

‘It’s over,’ he said hastily. ‘Besides, all the worst you think of me is probably true, and you’d be the first person to say so if you hadn’t decided it was wiser to be tactful.’

She let out a long breath at his insight. ‘Touché,’ she said at last.

He gave her an ironic look. ‘It’s good for my pride if I win the odd point or two.’

‘I don’t think the worst of you,’ she said. ‘I think you’re just floundering.’

‘That’s true. I don’t know what to say to Mark, what to do for him. We don’t speak the same language. What you say about moving house may be right, but I meant it for the best.’

‘I wish I could help—’ she sighed ‘—but I’m not even going to be here much longer. I leave when term’s over. But I’ll stay in touch with Mark, if you like, from anywhere in the world.’

‘I’d appreciate that.’

‘Now I’ll go up and see him, because I promised.’

‘Thank you. Then I’ll take you home.’

‘There’s no need. I can call a cab.’

‘Miss Wharton, I will take you home,’ he said firmly.

He came upstairs with her and they stopped outside Mark’s door. Evie raised her hand to knock, then thought better of it and opened the door a crack.

‘I’m awake,’ came Mark’s voice at once.

Laughing, she slipped inside and went to sit on the bed, giving him a hug.

‘I’m going now,’ she said. ‘I just came to say goodnight. And thank you for the pictures. I’ll give you back the memory stick at school.’

‘You will be there?’

‘For a bit longer.’ She kissed his cheek. ‘Bye!’

He flung his arms about her neck. ‘Bye!’

Then he saw his father standing in the doorway and removed his arms.

‘Hallo, Dad,’ he said politely.

‘I’m going to drive Miss Wharton home, son.’

‘Goodnight.’

If only he would smile at his father, Evie thought. Or at least stop being so woodenly polite. But Mark didn’t say another word as she and Justin left the room.

Downstairs, Justin stopped for a word with Lily before leading Evie out to his car.

‘Where to?’

She gave him her address and he swung out on to the road. As he drove he said, ‘I’m sorry about your ruined evening with your boyfriend.’

‘I’ll call him when I get in.’

‘What will you tell him?’

‘The truth. What else?’

‘Might he not misunderstand?’

‘He won’t, as long as I stick to the facts.’

‘Are you one of those terrifyingly honest people who always tell the truth about everything?’

She laughed. ‘No, I’m not as bad as that. And honesty really has nothing to do with it. It’s just that lies have a habit of backfiring on you. I learned that when I was ten.’

In the darkness of the car she just sensed him grinning.

‘I learned a lot earlier than that,’ he said.

‘I even think that honesty can sometimes be an overrated virtue.’

‘Heresy!’

‘No, just that sometimes you have to choose between honesty and kindness, and kindness is usually better. My home is just up ahead, in that apartment block.’

‘How do you manage with the motorbike?’

‘I park it in the basement garage. If you drop me on the kerb here—’

‘Actually, I was hoping to come in and talk to you for a while.’

Before she could answer her mobile phone rang.

‘I guess that’s Andrew,’ Justin said. ‘You might still save your evening with him. OK, I’ll drop you here. Goodnight.’

It wasn’t the moment she would have chosen for Andrew to call, but she had no choice but to get out of the car. Justin closed the door behind her and sped away into the darkness, leaving her to answer the phone call, which turned out to be a wrong number.

Evie looked for Mark at school on the following Monday, but there was no sign of him, and Debra said that his father had called to say he had a cold and would be off for a few days.

She’d brought the memory stick in to return to him, but now she wrote him a little note saying that the pictures were lovely, and including her email address and sent the whole thing off in a package.

The following evening his reply was waiting on her computer, with some attached pictures of the puppies. She thanked him, and they settled into an amiable gossip that lasted for the next few days until she wrote at last:

If I don’t see you before I go, I promise to email you from all over the place. I’m off to my seaside cottage now. I’ll send you some pics of it, taken with my digital camera. If you can work yours I’m sure I can learn to work mine.

She had briefly considered calling at the house to see him, but decided against it. She was leaving soon, and it wasn’t kind to encourage Mark to cling to her.

She wondered if Justin would ask her to visit the child, but there was no word from him. Obviously he reckoned that she had outlived her usefulness.

Grumpy but curious, she looked him up on the Internet and what she found there confirmed what Lily had said. Justin Dane took over—people, firms, the world. Starting with nothing fifteen years earlier, he had created an empire out of hard work, genius and ruthlessness.

Before that fifteen years there were gaps in the information. Reading between the lines, all carefully worded to avoid the libel laws, Evie picked up an impression of a wild man, coldly indifferent to the feelings of others, who might even have done a spell in jail.

‘A nasty piece of work,’ she mused. ‘Perhaps it’s just as well I won’t come into contact with him again.’