Читать книгу The Rinucci Brothers - Lucy Gordon - Страница 13

EVIE had expected Mark to grow quickly bored with an old-fashioned seaside holiday, but it didn’t happen. He was eager for even the simplest experiences, and she could almost imagine that she saw herself again in him.

For the next few days they all enjoyed themselves so much that she nearly forgot about her problems. Nobody else came to view the place, and she was able to relish her temporary reprieve.

They went exploring, and Mark listened, entranced, to the tales of pirates. When they actually found a pirate museum he was in seventh heaven. Evie bought him a book called Black Simeon’s Revenge, which he read in the car all the way home. After supper he fell asleep over it.

The next day Justin found a fisherman with a boat big enough for them all, and they went out to sea. After a day in the salty air they were all sleepy, and Mark actually made the journey back fast asleep with a smile on his face.

Evie watched all this with delight, but she was also puzzled by Justin. He was pleasant, and on the surface all was well between him and his son. But sometimes she happened to glance at him when he thought nobody was looking, and then his smile would be replaced by a look that was distant, almost haggard.

Mark had spoken of a darkness inside his father, and Evie began to sense an air of unreality. Justin was doing his best, but he was following rules that he didn’t understand.

Once or twice he came close to losing his temper—about nothing, as far as she could see. He controlled himself quickly and apologised, but she was disturbed by how trivial were the things that triggered his outbursts. He was living on his nerves, and the strain was pulling him apart. She often caught him watching her with Mark, as though desperately trying to discover something.

Then she told herself that she was being fanciful. He worked long hours at night to keep up with his business, and he was simply very tired. When she found Mark asleep over his book, Justin was also fighting not to nod off.

‘Go to bed,’ she told him, laughing and yawning.

She was about to say that she too fancied an early night, when the cottage telephone rang.

The other two watched her pick up the receiver and announce herself cheerfully. Then they saw the smile fade from her face. After that she said very little before hanging up and turning to face them.

‘That was Uncle Joe’s executor,’ she said. ‘The Nicholsons have upped their offer, and he’s accepted it. They want to push the deal through fast, so that they can take possession as soon as possible.’

Dawn was just beginning to glow across the sea when Justin came quietly downstairs, meaning to slip out for an early swim. He was dressed in shorts and his shirt was open, for the day was already growing warm.

He headed for the door, eager to get outside and plunge into the water, but then he stopped, realising that he was not alone.

The figure on the couch was so still and silent that at first he hadn’t seen her. Now he moved closer, uncertain what to do next. He supposed he ought to leave and not invade her privacy. Instead he dropped to his knees beside her.

She looked as though she’d been crying, but that might have been a trick of the poor light. Last night she’d been near to tears, following the phone call, but she had brightened up at once, insisting that everything was fine.

But it wasn’t fine, he thought, as he leaned a little closer, noticing how her usual elfin cheekiness had drained away. Now he saw the tension beneath the laughter, and realised that she no more let the world see inside her heart than he did himself.

Without warning she opened her eyes, looking straight at him. For a moment he was transfixed, more startled than she.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said at last, softly. ‘I was worried about you.’

‘Why?’

‘You’re not happy.’

‘I’m all right.’

‘Are you?’

She shook her head. Then she rubbed her eyes.

‘What am I doing down here?’ she asked, looking around.

‘You don’t remember?’

‘Oh, yes, I stayed up late and fell asleep. I started looking around, and remembering everything about this place. It still looks almost exactly as it did when I first came here.’

She rose to her feet, but her limbs were cramped and she moved awkwardly. He put out both hands to help her and she clung to him.

‘What was it like then?’ he asked.

‘I thought it was magic—flagstones, open fireplace, little old-fashioned windows. When Mark walked into this room for the first time, it was like seeing myself again, full of a child’s wonder.

‘And it went on being wonderful when I grew up. I loved coming back here and being with Uncle Joe—all the happiest times of my life—and I wanted to keep it for ever, just as he kept it—’

Her voice had grown more and more husky until at last it ran out, and she passed a hand over her eyes.

‘Look, we’ll do something about it,’ he said. ‘Don’t cry—’

‘I’m not crying,’ she flashed. ‘I never cry.’

‘So I see,’ he murmured.

‘It’s just that—that dreadful woman will change everything. I don’t want her to, but I can’t stop her because it’ll be hers and—it’s all wrong.’

This time she buried her face in her hands, and her shoulders shook.

‘I think perhaps you’re crying,’ he said kindly.

‘No, I’m not—yes, I am—oh, hell!’

‘Yes, that’s usually the best thing to do,’ he said, putting his arms about her so that her head fell naturally against his shoulder.

She left it there. She didn’t want to argue any more. She just wanted to release all the tears she’d been holding back ever since she’d understood the extent of her loss.

He surprised her by being the perfect comforter, holding her patiently against the warm, strong column of his body while she wept. And she, a woman who prized her independence and detachment, clung to him as though he were her last hope.

But at last she began to feel self-conscious, and moved to disengage herself.

‘I don’t know what came over me,’ she said awkwardly. ‘I don’t usually do that.’

‘Perhaps you should do it more often.’

‘Not me. I’m not the type,’ she said firmly.

‘Of course you’re not. But you shouldn’t try to do everything alone. Isn’t there someone to help you?’

‘I don’t have any other family.’

‘Then what about Andrew? Isn’t he an accountant?’

‘Yes, but—’

‘Then why can’t he think up some brilliant financial scheme—a tax dodge or something? What’s the point of knowing an accountant if he can’t fiddle the books for you?’

‘I don’t want him to fiddle anything.’

‘But he should at least have offered.’

She remembered telling Andrew about the cottage. He’d advised her to hold out for the best price, but he hadn’t thought of a way to help her keep it.

‘Why not ask him?’ Justin urged.

‘I suppose I could. He’ll be here any day.’

‘Any day? How much time do you have?’

‘None. You’re right. I’ll call him now. At this hour he’ll be asleep.’

And it was the perfect excuse to call him and ask him when he was coming down. Seizing the phone, she dialled Andrew’s London apartment. It rang for some time before he answered, sounding slightly muffled.

‘Hallo, sleepyhead,’ she teased.

She heard the moment of shocked silence but refused to understand it.

‘Evie,’ he said at last.

‘Who did you think it was?’ she asked, trying to laugh, although there was something inside her that wasn’t laughing at all.

‘I—well—I don’t know.’

‘I’ve been at the cottage a few days now. You’re going to love it here, really.’

‘Well—actually, I wanted to talk about that—I mean, the way things have been recently—’

He let his voice die away awkwardly, and in the silence Evie heard a sound that froze her blood.

A giggle.

It was definitely a giggle, not a laugh, or even a chuckle, but the giggle of a young woman who had been put in a very good mood by something or other.

‘Come on, darling,’ she cooed from close to Andrew. ‘Don’t stay on that phone for ever.’

Andrew spoke in a low, hurried voice.

‘Evie, are you still there?’

‘Oh, yes. I wouldn’t miss this for anything.’

‘I hope you’re not going to be unreasonable. After all, it’s usually you apologising to me—’

‘Not for being caught out in bed with someone else.’

‘Well—things haven’t been going well for us, and I don’t really think you mind about this—’

‘Don’t tell me what I mind and don’t mind,’ she said tensely.

‘I’m sorry, but it’s just a nice change to be with someone who puts me first. You never did that, and if you think over why you didn’t, you’ll realise that this isn’t really such a big deal.’

She opened her mouth to put him right on this point, then closed it again. While she was choosing her words the line went dead. He’d hung up on her.

‘Andrew? Andrew!’

She hung up, dazed by shock. Justin, coming out of the kitchen, where he’d retired to give her some privacy, saw her staring into space.

‘No?’ he asked gently.

‘No.’

‘He can’t help you?’

‘I didn’t even ask him. It’s over. He isn’t coming here.’ She gave a jerky laugh. ‘I suppose he never really was, was he?’

‘I don’t think so,’ Justin agreed gently.

‘I’m a fool. I should have seen it all before. He was in bed with someone else.’

He came beside her. ‘You really never suspected?’

‘No,’ she said with self-mockery. ‘I’ve been so full of myself. I just saw it from my own point of view. We were going to have an idyllic time here, and I was going to tell him that I really did love him, and everything was going to be all right. But things don’t work like that, do they?’

‘No, I guess they don’t.’

He touched her face, brushing her untidy hair back. ‘Come on, Evie, you’re not broken-hearted. You’re not madly in love with him. You never were.’

‘You’re as bad as he is,’ she said, incensed. ‘Telling me how I feel.’

He made a wry face. ‘When a woman’s really in love it’s pretty obvious. She never forgets the man for an instant. Can you honestly say that you never forgot Andrew? Be honest, Evie. You hardly remembered him.’

Now he’d gone too far. She made a move to free herself but his arms tightened. She gasped with outrage that he was daring to keep her prisoner.

‘He didn’t remember you either,’ Justin continued remorselessly, ‘because when a man loves a woman she’s there with him, in his mind and his heart, every moment of the day.’

‘Let me go—’

‘Could you feel his body against you even when you were miles apart? Did the thought of him excite you? I don’t think so.’

‘How dare you—?’

She tried to struggle free again but it was useless. His face was close and she could feel his warm breath whispering past her cheeks, against her mouth. To her intense annoyance the sensation seemed to go right through her body, making her aware of him in a way that she would rather not have been at this moment.

‘Did his kiss drive you wild, Evie, or don’t you even remember that?’

She barely heard the last words, murmured as his mouth descended. She’d known what he meant to do but refused to believe it until his lips touched hers.

Even then she wouldn’t face it. It wasn’t possible that this awkward, arrogant, manipulative man should send shivers of excitement through her. It wasn’t possible, it wasn’t possible! She must hang on to that thought.

She tried to shut herself down and not be aware of her own feelings, but her body wouldn’t let her off the hook. It insisted on responding to every sensation as his lips moved over hers again and again.

Her heart was a traitor too, pounding as it had never done before, almost as though it were in league with Justin. And while her mind seethed with indignation, her flesh ached for him to touch her more deeply, more intimately.

At last he loosened his grip enough for her to draw back. She was breathing heavily with rage and something else.

‘I’m warning you,’ she gasped, ‘if you don’t let me go this minute, I’ll do something that will make your ears ring for a week.’

Now he would lose his temper and she would have the satisfaction of a real knock down, drag ‘em out fight. She was looking forward to it, every inch of her vibrating in anticipation, in a way that was new, violent and shocking.

But Justin disappointed her. There was no rage, no outburst. He just stood there looking dazed and confused.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I don’t know what—I just wanted you to understand that this man—that you don’t—’

‘And I’m supposed to fall at your feet, am I?’

‘No, that’s—’

‘You have the most unspeakable nerve. You think I have no feelings because that’s what it suits you to believe. I’ve just lost the man I loved. I suppose the idea that I might be broken-hearted never occurred to you.’

‘It might have done if you’d been a different woman,’ he retorted.

‘You have no idea what kind of woman I am.’

‘I know you’ve got a lot of common sense—’

‘Thanks a lot!’ she snapped, insulted.

He threw up his hands. ‘Now what have I said wrong?’

Since she couldn’t have told him in a million years, she changed tack. But to be accused of common sense was a slur not to be forgiven.

‘You seem to think you know everything about everybody, but this is my life. I decide how I feel—’

‘You could if you were thinking straight,’ he said. ‘As it is, I’ll spell it out for you. You’re well rid of him. He was a waste of space.’

‘You never even met him.’

‘That’s right, I haven’t. And why? Because he isn’t here when you need him. You were worried sick about losing your home, and what was he doing? Screwing around, that’s what. He didn’t do one single thing to help you.’

‘It’s not his problem—’

‘Then it damned well ought to be.’

‘Well, I confused him by sending out the wrong signals.’

‘Give me patience!’ Justin said in deep disgust. ‘What happened to the independent woman I thought I knew?’

‘She took the night off!’

‘She’s taken her whole life off if you’re going to talk this way. Why must you blame yourself?’

‘Have you never blamed yourself for anything?’

‘Not if I could help it.’

‘I can believe that.’

‘Sometimes you have to admit you were wrong,’ he admitted, ‘but only a fool rushes into it.’

‘Great! Now I’m a fool.’

‘I won’t answer that since everything I say seems to be wrong.’

‘Hah! You noticed.’

She knew she was talking nonsense but her nerves were jangling.

‘Look,’ he said, with an air of exaggerated patience calculated to drive her to murder, ‘I only kissed you. I was trying to make you feel better—’

‘You conceited—’

‘I mean by making you see things in a new light.

Maybe I did it clumsily—all right, yes, I was clumsy, but I—oh hell!’

He turned away, tearing his hair, but almost immediately swung back to face her.

‘Fine, I did it the wrong way. But if you could just clear your head long enough to consider—’

‘There you go again. Even your apologies are insults in disguise—and not that deep a disguise—’

‘If you don’t shut up I’ll kiss you again.’

‘Now there’s a threat that’ll keep me silent for years.’

He drew a sharp breath. His face was full of fury and for a moment she wondered if he would carry out his threat.

But he didn’t. Instead, he snatched up a towel where he’d dropped it on a nearby chair and stormed out.

Evie ran upstairs. From her window she could watch Justin run across the sand to the sea. He’d removed his shirt, which was a pity because it brought back the sensation of being pressed against his bare chest.

She had never been so angry with him. Everything he had done was inexcusable: trying to dictate to her, daring to throw the light of common sense over her relationship with Andrew, kissing her, not kissing her.

She threw herself on to her bed, trying to quell the turbulence within. He was right. Of course he was right. Hadn’t she always known that her relationship with Andrew was incomplete, because she’d always withheld part of herself? Hadn’t she driven Andrew into another woman’s arms, and secretly known what she was doing all the time?

She heard Mark moving in the next room and forced herself to be calm. By the time the boy came downstairs she was there ahead of him, smiling and preparing breakfast.

‘Where’s Dad?’

‘He went for an early swim.’

‘Can we go too?’

‘Have some breakfast first.’

Justin came in a few minutes later, greeted them both, and said, ‘I have to go away for a few hours today.’

Mark said nothing, but regarded his father with a face that was suddenly tense.

‘Is that all right?’ Justin asked, speaking to them both and neither in particular. If he was looking at anyone, it was Mark. But it was hard to be sure.

‘That’s fine,’ Evie said. ‘Mark and I will have a great day together, won’t we, Mark?’

When he didn’t answer she looked at him and found him staring fixedly at his father.

‘Will you be away long, Dad?’

‘Only until tomorrow.’

‘Promise?’

‘I promise,’ he said, speaking gently. ‘I’ll be back tomorrow.’

‘Where are you going?’

‘That’s a secret. But when I come back I’ll have a surprise for you, and I think you’ll like it.’

Mark nodded, seemingly satisfied. Justin ruffled his hair and went upstairs to change.

For a moment Evie was tempted to go after him, but she thought better of it. After a while he came downstairs, formally dressed, carrying a briefcase. This was a man intent on business, just as she had first known him.

Then she understood why Mark had asked if he were returning. He’d seen that, for his father, the holiday was over. In a few hours Justin would telephone, saying that he was staying in London and asking her to bring Mark home.

Fine! Evie thought with a touch of contempt. She wouldn’t let his son down, even if he did.

They waved him off together and spent the day at the beach. Neither of them mentioned Justin. In the evening they played chess. Evie began by resolving to let Mark win a game or two, and ended up struggling to beat him even once. His twinkling eyes told her that he’d followed her thoughts.

She laughed with him, thinking how like Justin he looked. His mouth was different, gentler, with a touch of sweetness, but his nose was exactly the same, sharp and dominating his face, with a curiously flat bridge.

The phone rang. Mark ran to be the first to answer it.

‘Hallo, Dad? When are you coming home? OK—I’ll put you on to Evie—all right. I’ll tell her.’

He replaced the receiver.

‘Dad couldn’t talk to you because he was in a hurry, but he says he’ll be here first thing tomorrow.’

She answered vaguely. She was disturbed by a small knot of anxiety that was easing inside her, almost as though she were glad of his return. Even pleased, although pleased was perhaps going a bit far. She would admit to relief, but only for Mark’s sake.

They tidied up and went to bed. Evie lay in the dark and tried to focus her attention on Andrew, wondering just how broken-hearted it was suitable for her to be. After a while she gave up. How could you grieve for a man whose face you couldn’t remember?

In the early hours she awoke, hearing sounds from below. In a moment she was out of bed, pulling a light dressing gown on over her pyjamas and slipping quietly out on to the landing. The light was growing fast and she could see the man who had just arrived.

‘Justin?’ she called softly.

‘Yes, come down. I have something to tell you.’

‘Goodness, what’s happened?’ she asked, wondering at his businesslike tone.

She hurried down and saw him rummaging in his briefcase. He looked tired and unshaven.

‘Have you been driving all night? You look done in.’

‘Never mind that,’ he said, sounding almost impatient. ‘There’s something I want you to see.’

‘Is this the surprise you told Mark about? Shall I fetch him?’

‘Later. I want you to see it first.’

‘You’re getting me worried.’

‘No need. Here.’ He’d found a large envelope in his briefcase and held it out to her. ‘This is yours.’

‘What is it?’

‘Look at it,’ he said curtly.

At first the words were a jumble, dancing before her eyes. Then she recognised the address of the cottage.

‘It’s sold,’ she said at last. ‘You mean the Nicholsons moved that fast?’

‘Not them. Me. I bought this place yesterday.’

‘You what?’ Then her eyes fell on the price. ‘How much?’

The final price was fifty grand higher than the original asking price.

‘You didn’t really pay that?’ she gasped.

‘I had to. When the Nicholsons heard of my offer they raised theirs, which, I must admit I hadn’t expected, considering that they tried to get it cheap. But, once they’d decided, they were determined not to let go. There was a bidding war, but I won because I kept going longer.’

‘Yes, I can imagine that you did,’ she said, dazed. ‘But why—?’

‘Look at the other paper. It’ll tell you.’

The other paper was a deed of gift, making over the cottage to herself.

‘I don’t understand this,’ she murmured.

‘Surely it’s clear enough? The cottage is yours. I bought it and now it’s yours.’

She should have felt an uprush of gratitude, but there was only the old, uneasy feeling of a net closing about her. He hadn’t done this for her sake, but for reasons of his own.

‘But why are you giving it to me?’ she asked.

His manner became even more impatient.

‘What does it matter why? The point is, it’s yours. You won’t have to move out now. And since I paid over the odds you’ll have plenty left when the debts are cleared. It’s a very good deal for you.’

‘Yes, it is, isn’t it?’ she said in a voice that was suddenly hard. ‘And you really did pay over the odds, I can see.’

‘Sometimes you have to, if it’s the only way to get what you want.’

‘I understand that,’ she said slowly. ‘It’s really impressive, the way you never let anyone get the better of you. Not anybody. Ever.’

Something in her manner finally got through to him. He turned, regarding her with a puzzled frown.

‘Evie, don’t you understand? The cottage is yours. Yours to keep. For ever. It’s what you wanted. Don’t you have anything to say to me?’

She raised smouldering eyes to him.

‘Yes,’ she said fiercely, ‘I do have something to say to you. I shall never forgive you for this as long as I live.’