Smokescreen. Anne Mather

probe too deeply into old wounds, Mrs Winters. Who knows what would have happened if—if my father had still been alive?’

      The housekeeper shook her head. ‘He never forgave you, you know.’

      ‘I know that.’

      ‘I think he wanted to.’

      ‘Do you?’ Alex looked wry. ‘You’re very tactful, Mrs Winters.’

      She sighed, gazing up at him with hungry eyes, almost as if she was afraid he might suddenly disappear again without notice. ‘And you’re much too thin,’ she exclaimed, through trembling lips. ‘Where on earth have you been all these years? What have you been doing? If only you’d written!’

      Alex heaved a deep breath. ‘Later, Mrs Winters,’ he assured her gently. ‘Right now, I could surely do with a bath and a change of clothes.’

      ‘Of course.’ Mrs Winters controlled herself and turned to Olivia now. ‘With your permission, Mrs Gantry, I’ll put Master Alex in his old room. It’s the one overlooking the stables, and I think he’d like——’

      ‘I know which room he used to occupy,’ Olivia interposed briefly, her eyes the only indication of her angry indignation, and Mrs Winters, too bemused by Alex’s reappearance to notice, smiled beneficently.

      ‘Of course you do,’ she beamed. Then she remembered the food cooling on its tray, and put an anxious hand to her throat. ‘Would you like me to tell Cook you’ll have a bit of dinner with Master Alex, instead of bothering with your omelette. I’m sure, now that you’ve got company——’

      ‘The omelette is just fine,’ replied Olivia crisply. ‘I suggest you inform Cook of our unexpected guest’s arrival, and she can prepare him a meal while he takes his bath. I—I shall be going straight to bed. I am rather—tired, after all.’

      Mrs Winters’ eyes widened. ‘Oh, but——’ She cast a troubled look in Alex’s direction, and he, interpreting her anxiety, made an irritatingly complacent gesture.

      ‘Don’t worry,’ he told her cheerfully. ‘Olivia and I will have plenty of time to talk tomorrow. It’s natural that she’s feeling a little tired. Let’s face it, it’s been a long day, hasn’t it, Liv?’

      Olivia moved her head from side to side in an oddly confused way. Perhaps she was tired. Perhaps she was dreaming all this. Perhaps none of it was really happening! But she knew that she wasn’t, and it was; and she was blankly aware of being outmanoeuvred at every turn.

      Mrs Winters dragged her eyes away from Alex sufficiently long enough to give Olivia an encouraging smile. ‘Then I’ll go and attend to the arrangements,’ she said, in the tone that falls midway between a statement and a question. And at Olivia’s indifferent consent, she added: ‘What about your luggage, Master Alex? Is it being sent on or what?’

      ‘It’s outside, actually. In the car I hired,’ he declared casually, producing the keys.

      ‘Then would you like me to get Murdoch——’

      ‘Oh, no, that won’t be necessary.’ Alex pocketed the keys again. ‘I’ll get them myself.’ He glanced at Olivia for a moment, and then went on: ‘But perhaps you could arrange with the hire company to have the car collected tomorrow. I suppose while I’m here, you could lend me a car, couldn’t you, Olivia?’

      Olivia made another gesture which could have been acquiescence, and Mrs Winters’s smile reappeared. ‘Very well, then, I’ll leave you for the moment.’ She shook her head. ‘Wait till Murdoch hears about this! He’ll never believe it.’

      ‘Oh, I’m sure he will,’ Alex remarked in a low tone, as the housekeeper closed the door again behind her, and Olivia’s resentment erupted into blazing anger.

      ‘How dare you?’ she demanded. ‘How dare you? I did not insist that you stayed here, and as for lending you a car——’

      ‘Yes?’ His eyes were narrowed and wary.

      ‘Oh—it’s ludicrous!’ Olivia thrust her hands forward, as if to ward off a physical presence. ‘Whatever my feelings, you’ve inveigled your way in here—which reminds me: how did you get in? The gates are electrically operated, and we have a very efficient security system.’

      ‘You forget, I used to live here,’ Alex retorted blandly. ‘And before you tell me the guard on the gate couldn’t possibly remember me, I know. But it’s amazing what the production of a passport will do, particularly when I explained how sorry I was not to have got here sooner. A son’s grief still means something, Liv, even to hard-bitten security guards.’

      Olivia pursed her lips. ‘I don’t believe you’re sorry at all. I think you timed your arrival perfectly!’

      ‘Oh, Mother! How can you say that?’

      His words mocked hers, and Olivia felt a helpless sense of impotence. Almost without volition, she was being backed further and further into a corner, and although she didn’t want to fight him, he was making it impossible for her not to do so. What did he want? Why had he come here? And how long would he stay, if she did not make a stand?

      With another bemused shake of her head, she moved then, intent on reaching the door and the comparative privacy of the hall beyond. But he moved too, stepping deliberately into her path, and she looked up at him angrily, incensed by his arrogance.

      ‘Do you mind?’ she exclaimed, her breathing quickening in concert with her emotions. ‘I think we’ve said enough for one day, don’t you? You’re here—and thanks to Mrs Winters, you’ve acquired a certain respectability. But don’t expect me to applaud your methods, because I won’t. I don’t know what your intentions are, but let me remind you, I am the mistress here, and don’t you forget it!’

      ‘Oh, I don’t.’ But he was mocking her again, his thin lips curling lazily as he surveyed her obvious frustration. ‘You’re the one who seems in danger of forgetting it. I mean, is this any way to treat a long-lost son?’

      Olivia clenched her fists. ‘Will you stop that!’

      ‘And if I don’t?’

      ‘You’re completely despicable, aren’t you? I’m beginning to understand why Henry threw you out. I——’

      ‘Correction, Henry did not throw me out,’ Alex cut in harshly. ‘I—walked out. Of my own free will.’ He looked down at her contemptuously. ‘He practically begged me to stay, do you know that?’

      ‘Then you can’t blame him, can you?’ she exclaimed, seizing the opportunity he had given her, but he only shook his head.

      ‘I don’t,’ he retorted coldly. ‘But that doesn’t stop me despising him, and what he did. I’m afraid your husband was no saint, Mrs Gantry.’ He lifted a finger and before she could stop him, had brushed a sooty tendril from her cheek. ‘Now ain’t that a shame!’

      Olivia flinched away from him, fumbling at the thread of hair with unsteady fingers, thrusting it back behind her ear, as if by doing so she would remove the unwanted touch of his skin. ‘Don’t do that!’ she choked. ‘Don’t touch me! And please, get out of my way, before I——’

      ‘Yes? Before you what? Throw a tantrum? Scream?’ He rucked up his jersey to tuck his thumbs into the low belt of his jeans. ‘Dear me, I wonder what Mrs Winters would have to say about that? A nice piece of gossip to end the day with!’

      Olivia took a deep breath. ‘Why are you doing this?’ she exclaimed tremulously. ‘What do you want? I’ve said you can stay. Isn’t that enough?’

      He shrugged. ‘Maybe I’m thinking that as we’re what you might call—kissing kin, we should exchange something more than just goodnights.’

      Olivia gasped. ‘You must be crazy!’

      ‘Why?’

      He