The Rinucci Brothers. Lucy Gordon

The Rinucci Brothers - Lucy Gordon


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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


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