The Rinucci Brothers: Wife and Mother Forever / Her Italian Boss's Agenda / The Wedding Arrangement

‘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.