make out that he was explaining that they were on their way to visit relatives, that the snow had temporarily cut short their journey. That, yes, public transport would have been more sensible but for the fact that the trains had responded to the bad weather by going on strike. However, what a blessing in disguise, because how else would they have discovered this charming part of the world? And perhaps she could bring them a bottle of wine with their sandwiches…whatever she had to hand would do as long as it was cold…
‘So…’ Luiz drawled as soon as they had the sitting room to themselves. ‘The truth is now all coming out in the wash. Were you ever going to tell me about your background or were you intending to keep that little titbit to yourself until it no longer mattered who knew?’
‘I didn’t think it was relevant.’
‘Do me a favour, Aggie.’
‘I’m not ashamed of…’ She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. It was cosy in here and beautifully warm, with an open fire at one end. He had removed his jumper and rolled his sleeves up and her eyes strayed to his arms, sprinkled with dark hair. He had an athlete’s body and she had to curb the itch to stare at him. She didn’t know where that urge was coming from. Or had it been there from the start?
Wine was brought to them and she felt like she needed some. One really big glass to help her through this conversation…
‘You’re not ashamed of…? Concealing the truth?’
‘I didn’t think of it as concealing the truth.’
‘Well, forgive me, but it seems a glaring omission.’
‘It’s not something I talk about.’
‘Why not?’
‘Why do you think?’ She glared at him, realised that the big glass of wine had somehow disappeared in record time and didn’t refuse when her wine glass was topped up.
Luiz flushed darkly. It wouldn’t do to forget that this was not a date. He wasn’t politely delving down conversational avenues as a prelude to sex. Omissions like this mattered, given the circumstances. But those huge blue eyes staring at him with a mixture of uncertainty and accusation were getting to him.
‘You tell me.’
‘People can be judgemental,’ Aggie muttered defensively. ‘As soon as you say that you grew up in a children’s home, people switch off. You wouldn’t understand. How could you? You’ve always led the kind of life people like us dreamt about. A life of luxury, with family all around you. Even if your sisters were bossy and told you what to do when you were growing up. It’s a different world.’
‘I’m not without imagination,’ Luiz said gruffly.
‘But this is just something else that you can hold against us…just another nail in the coffin.’
Yes, it was! But he was still curious to find out about that shady background she had kept to herself. He barely noticed when a platter of sandwiches was placed in front of them, accompanied by an enormous salad, along with another bottle of excellent wine.
‘You went to a boarding school. I went to the local comprehensive where people sniggered because I was one of those kids from a children’s home. Sports days were a nightmare. Everyone else would have their family there, shouting and yelling them on. I just ran and ran and ran and pretended that there were people there cheering me on. Sometimes Gordon or Betsy—the couple who ran the home—would try and come but it was difficult. I could deal with all of that but Mark was always a lot more sensitive.’
‘Which is why you’re so close now. You said that your parents were dead.’
‘They are.’ She helped herself to a bit more wine, even though she was unaccustomed to alcohol and was dimly aware that she would probably have a crashing headache the following morning. ‘Sort of.’
‘Sort of? Don’t go coy on me, Aggie. How can people be sort of dead?’
Stripped bare of all the half-truths that had somehow been told to him over a period of time, Aggie resigned herself to telling him the unvarnished truth now about their background. He could do whatever he liked with the information, she thought recklessly. He could try to buy them off, could shake his head in disgust at being in the company of someone so far removed from himself. She should never have let her brother and Maria talk her into painting a picture that wasn’t completely accurate.
A lot of that had stemmed from her instinctive need to protect Mark, to do what was best for him. She had let herself be swayed by her brother being in love for the first time, by Maria’s tactful downplaying of just how protective her family was and why…And she also couldn’t deny that Luiz had rubbed her up the wrong way from the very beginning. It hadn’t been hard to swerve round the truth, pulling out pieces of it here and there, making sure to nimbly skip over the rest. He was so arrogant. He almost deserved it!
‘We never knew our father,’ she now admitted grudgingly. ‘He disappeared after I was born, and continued showing up off and on, but he finally did a runner when Mum became pregnant with Mark.’
‘He did a runner…’
‘I’ll bet you haven’t got a clue what I’m talking about, Luiz.’
‘It’s hard for me to get my head around the concept of a father abandoning his family,’ Luiz admitted.
‘You’re lucky,’ Aggie told him bluntly and Luiz looked at her with dry amusement.
‘My life was prescribed,’ he found himself saying. ‘Often it was not altogether ideal. Carry on.’
Aggie wanted to ask him to expand, to tell her what he meant by a ‘prescribed life’. From the outside looking in, all she could see was perfection for him: a united, large family, exempt from all the usual financial headaches, with everyone able to do exactly what they wanted in the knowledge that if they failed there would always be a safety net to catch them.
‘What else is there to say? I was nine when Mum died.’ She looked away and stared off at the open fire. The past was not a place she revisited with people but she found that she was past resenting what he knew about her. He would never change his mind about the sort of person he imagined she was, but that didn’t mean that she had to accept all his accusations without a fight.
‘How did she die?’
‘Do you care?’ Aggie asked, although half-heartedly. ‘She was killed in an accident returning from work. She had a job at the local supermarket and she was walking home when she was hit by a drunk-driver. There were no relatives, no one to take us in, and we were placed in a children’s home. A wonderful place with a wonderful couple running it who saw us both through our bad times; we couldn’t have hoped for a happier upbringing, given the circumstances. So please don’t feel sorry for either of us.’ The sandwiches were delicious but her appetite had nosedived.
‘I’m sorry about your mother.’
‘Are you?’ But she was instantly ashamed of the bitterness in her voice. ‘Thank you. It was a long time ago.’ She gave a dry, self-deprecating laugh. ‘I expect all this information is academic because you’ve already made your mind up about us. But you can see why it wouldn’t have made for a great opening conversation…especially when I knew from the start that
