now be raised only by his mother, knowing nothing of his paternal background or his heritage.
Anatole’s face steeled. Well, he would ensure that did not happen. He owed it to Vasilis—to the little boy himself—to play some part in his life at least.
A stab of remorse—even guilt—pierced him. In the five long years since Tia had left him he’d received, from time to time, communications from his uncle. Careful overtures of reconciliation.
He’d ignored them all—blanked them.
But he could not—would not—ignore the existence of Vasilis’s young son.
I want to see him again!
Resolve filled him. Something about the child called to him.
Again that memory filled his head of how he’d distracted the little boy, talking about painting a picture of a train, just as he himself had once done for his uncle in that long-ago time when it had been he himself who’d been the child without any kind of father figure in his life to take an interest in him. When there had only been occasional visits from Vasilis—never his own father, to whom he had been of no interest at all.
Well, for Nicky it would not be like that.
He’ll have me. I’ll make sure of it!
And if that meant seeing Tia—Christine—again, well, that was something he would have to endure.
Unease flickered in him. Can I cope with that? Seeing her in the years to come with Nicky growing up?
It was a question that, right now, he did not want to think about.
‘MUMMA, LOOK!’
Nicky’s excited voice called to her and Christine finished her chat to Nanny Ruth and paid attention to her son.
They were out in the garden now that spring was here, and Nicky was perched on a bench beside a rangy young man who was showing him photos on his mobile phone.
As Nanny Ruth went off to take her well-earned break Christine went and sat herself down too, lifting Nicky onto her lap. ‘What have you got there, Giles?’ she asked with a smile.
The young man grinned. ‘Juno’s litter,’ he said. ‘They arrived last night. I couldn’t wait to show Nicky.’
‘One of them is going to be mine!’ Nicky piped up excitedly. ‘You said, Mumma, you said!’
‘Yes, I did say,’ Christine agreed.
She’d talked it through with Giles Barcourt and his parents. They were the village’s major landowners from whom Vasilis had bought the former Dower House on the estate. They had always been on very friendly terms, and now, they were recommending to Christine that acquiring a puppy would help Nicky recover from losing his beloved pappou. She was in full agreement, seeing just how excited he was at the prospect.
‘So,’ Giles continued, ‘which one shall it be, do you think? It will be a good few weeks before they’re ready to leave home, but you can come and visit them to make your final choice.’
He grinned cheerfully at Nicky and Christine, and she smiled warmly back. He was a likeable young man—about her own age, she assumed, with a boyish air about him that she suspected would last all his life. He’d studied agriculture at Cirencester, like so many of his peers, and now ran the family estate along with his father. A born countryman.
‘By the way,’ he went on, throwing her a cheerful look again, ‘Mama—’ he always used the old-fashioned moniker in a shamelessly humorous fashion ‘—would love you to come to dinner next Friday. My sister will be there, with her sproglets and the au pair, so Nicky can join the nursery party. The sproglets are promised one of the pups too, so there’ll be a bunfight over choosing. What do you say?’
Christine smiled, knowing the invitation was kindly meant. It would be poignant to be there without Vasilis. But at some point she must start socialising again, and the Barcourts had always been so kind to her. And Nicky would love it.
‘That would be lovely—thank you!’ she exclaimed, and Giles grinned back even more warmly.
She was aware that he was probably sweet on her—as he might have called it, had any such introspection occurred to him—but he never pushed it.
‘Great!’ he said. ‘I’ll let her know.’
He was about to say something else, but at that moment there was the sound of footsteps on the gravel path around the side of the house. She looked up, startled.
A mix of shock and dismay filled her. ‘Anatole...’ she said faintly.
This time there had not even been any warning from her housekeeper. Anatole must have parked his car, heard voices, and come across the gardens. Now he was striding up to them. Unlike last time he was not in a black business suit, nor in a tuxedo as he had been in London. This time he was wearing jeans, a cashmere sweater and casually styled leather jacket.
He looked...
Devastating.
A thousand memories drummed through her head, swooping like butterflies. Like the butterflies now fluttering inside her stomach as he stood, surveying the group. Her grip was lax suddenly, and she felt Nicky wriggle off her lap.
Excitement blazed from Nicky’s face and he rushed up to Anatole. ‘You came—you came!’ he exclaimed. ‘I did that painting! I painted it for Pappou, like you said.’
Anatole hunkered down. ‘Did you?’ He smiled. ‘That’s great. Will you show it to me later?’
There was something about the ecstatic greeting he was receiving that was sending emotion coursing through him. His grin widened. How could he possibly have stayed away so long when a welcome like this was coming his way?
‘Yes!’ cried Nicky. ‘It’s in my playroom.’ Then something even more exciting occurred to him. ‘Come and see my puppy!’
He caught at Anatole’s hand, drew him over to the bench where Giles had got to his feet.
‘Puppy?’ queried Anatole.
He was focussing on Nicky, but at the same time he was burningly conscious of Tia’s presence. Her face was pale, her expression clearly masked. She didn’t want him there—it was blaring from her like a beacon—but he didn’t care. He wasn’t here for her, but for Vasilis’s son. That was his only concern.
Not the way that her long hair was caught back in a simple clip...nor how effortlessly lovely she looked in a lightweight sweater and jeans.
Was her blonde loveliness the reason her current visitor was there? Anatole’s eyes snapped across to the young man who’d stood up, and was now addressing him.
‘Giles Barcourt,’ he said in an easy manner, oblivious to what Christine instantly saw was a skewering look from Anatole. ‘I’m a neighbour. Come to show young Nicky Juno’s pups.’ He grinned,
