by Lucy Gordon
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
E VIE 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.