The Rinucci Brothers. Lucy Gordon
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