tell him to return you the balance.’
‘That’s ridiculous,’ he shouted. ‘Where’s your common sense?’
‘Obviously I don’t have any. But I do have some self-respect, enough not to take charity from you.’
She heard his sharp intake of breath, and the look on his face was very ugly. She held out the papers and he snatched them.
‘Go to hell,’ he said with soft venom. ‘Go there and stay there.’
Both tense with anger, neither noticed a figure looking down at them from the stairs, or heard the soft noise as he scuttled back to bed.
For a moment it seemed that Justin expected her to yield. When she didn’t he simply walked out of the room, and a moment later she heard his car starting up. She sank down on the stairs, trembling violently.
She wondered what had come over her to have rejected his gift. To keep the cottage had been her heart’s desire, and now it was hers, if she would only bend her pride a little.
But no power on earth could make her bend it for this man. His curt, businesslike tone as he’d outlined his methods, the way he’d crushed all opposition, the easy way he tossed money around, told her all she needed to know about his motives.
And it was all the worse because a corner of her heart had started to warm to him. If he’d done this in friendship she might have been tempted to accept. But Justin Dane didn’t ‘do’ friendship.
She went back to her room and lay down, not expecting to sleep. But the fight had left her drained, and she dozed uneasily. When she awoke the sun was high, but Justin’s car had not returned.
Looking out, she saw Mark sitting far out on the rocks. She dressed and hared out after him, ready with the words of reproach for slipping away alone. But they died on her lips when he raised his eyes and she saw the unhappiness in his face. Just like at the start, she remembered.
‘Hallo,’ she said, speaking cheerfully. ‘You’re out early. Anything interesting in the pool?’
‘Some crabs. Nothing much. I just wanted to think a bit.’
‘Well, it’s a good place for it. Did you come up with anything?’
He shook his head. ‘Thinking doesn’t really help,’ he said wistfully. ‘It doesn’t change anything.’
He was too young to believe that, she thought. Unable to find any words of wisdom she said, ‘It’s easier to think on a full stomach. Breakfast?’
He nodded. ‘Then can we come back?’
‘Yes, we’ll spend the day here.’
She waited for him to ask if his father had returned, but he said nothing.
After breakfast they went back to the beach and explored the rock pools until Mark said, ‘Here’s Dad.’
Justin was coming across the sand towards them. He smiled at Mark, and then in Evie’s general direction.
Mark greeted his father kindly but without eagerness. Nor did he ask about the surprise Justin had promised. She recalled his sadness of that morning and guessed that it was still there, suppressed beneath a polite smile.
It was like that for the rest of the day. On the surface all was calm. But beneath were tensions, only just held in check. In the evening Justin insisted on taking them out to a restaurant.
It was an expensive place and they all dressed up for it. She wondered why he’d done this until she realised that, in the fuss of waiters and choices to be made, the awkwardness between them was less noticeable.
He offered her wine, but refused it himself, explaining that he never touched alcohol.
Of course, she thought. Staying teetotal is a way of keeping control.
But then she castigated herself for dwelling so much on thoughts of him and his motives. There and then she made a resolution to put him out of her mind.
But that was hard when other people seemed so aware of him. At a nearby table sat two young women, both of whom seemed much taken with Justin. They regarded him with lustful appreciation, tried to catch his eye, smiled if his head turned briefly.
They were beauties that any man would be proud to have on his arm, and they were Justin’s, if he wanted them, which he didn’t seem to. She had to give him full marks for courtesy, for he gave her and Mark his whole attention.
She was forced to see him through their eyes as a vitally attractive man, with a presence and charisma that went beyond mere good looks, and she began to remember things she would rather forget: days on the beach with him stretched out beside her, half naked or fooling in the surf. From there it was a short step to being held against his bare chest as he kissed her fiercely, repeatedly.
It was useless to say that she hadn’t wanted that kiss. Some part of her had wanted it, although she would go to the stake before letting him suspect.
Then came other thoughts—the way she’d awoken on the sofa to find him kneeling beside her, asking gently about her sadness. His unexpected kindness had touched her heart, making her vulnerable to him. But then he’d tried to turn it to his own advantage…
‘Are you all right?’ Mark asked her.
‘I’m fine.’
‘I thought you looked a little sad.’
‘Not me,’ she said untruthfully.
It was late when they reached home and Mark’s eyelids were drooping. When Evie suggested that he go to bed he agreed without protest. Justin bade his son goodnight and immediately opened his computer.
‘I think I’ll go to bed, too,’ she said.
‘Fine,’ he said. ‘Goodnight.’
She regarded the back of his head with exasperation.
‘Goodnight,’ she said, and went upstairs.
She tucked Mark in and sat down on the bed. ‘You didn’t enjoy today, did you?’ she asked.
He shook his head. ‘It was like it used to be.’
‘Used to be? When?’
‘Just before Mum left. She and Dad—they were polite but it was horrible.’
Evie groaned. Why hadn’t she thought?
‘I’m sorry, Mark. We were just both in a bad mood. It didn’t mean anything. Don’t worry. Go to sleep, and everything will be all right in the morning.’
But when she’d gone to bed and switched out her light she wondered if she’d spoken truly. How could everything be all right after this?
She lay for a while, trying to get to sleep, but actually listening for the sound of Justin climbing the stairs. Instead she heard something from the next room that made her sit up in bed. There it was again—a wail from Mark’s
