The Rinucci Brothers. Lucy Gordon

in anyone else.

      Evie took her chance, walking up to Mark and speaking quietly so that Justin couldn’t hear.

      ‘You know,’ she said, trying not to sound too heavy, ‘this isn’t playing fair. You promised me, no more playing truant.’

      ‘But I’ve been at school,’ he said quickly.

      ‘Don’t split hairs. No truancy means no vanishing after school either. No forcing us to chase around after you, and sending your father grey-haired with worry.’

      She thought she saw a smile of disbelief flicker across the child’s face.

      ‘I just like being here,’ he said.

      ‘Had you been here the other night, when I caught up with you?’

      ‘Yes. It’s beautiful.’

      ‘Show me.’

      He took her hand and led her deep into the cemetery, which was old-fashioned with elaborate Victorian graves and mausoleums. Grass and trees made the effect charming rather than bleak.

      Once she looked over her shoulder and saw Justin standing where they had left him, at a distance, watching them, motionless, isolated.

      They wandered on for a while.

      ‘Your mother’s dead, isn’t she?’ she asked.

      A nod.

      ‘And is she buried here?’

      A shake of the head. Then, ‘But she ought to be,’ he said so quietly that she wondered if she had heard properly.

      ‘What do you mean, Mark?’

      ‘Nothing. I suppose we’d better go back to Dad.’

      Justin was still standing in the same place, watching for their return. For a moment Evie had an impression of uncertainty, but that must be an illusion caused by the distance.

      ‘Are you ready to come home?’ he asked Mark as they neared.

      Quickly he looked up at Evie. ‘Are you coming with us?’

      ‘I can’t. I’m going out tonight and I’m late already.’

      ‘Please,’ he said.

      Beside her she could sense Justin turn to stone, waiting for her reply.

      ‘All right,’ she said. ‘But I can’t stay for long.’

      Mark’s face broke into a smile of relief. Justin relaxed slightly.

      ‘Let’s go,’ he said briefly, indicating the way back to the car.

      Mark grabbed hold of her hand and almost dragged her along, making sure that she got into the back seat with him. Justin started up the car without a glance at them.

      Nobody spoke during the journey. Mark kept hold of her hand and seemed content simply to have her there. Evie was glad of anything she could do for him, but she was beginning to be alarmed. This child barely knew her, except in class, yet he clung to her as though she were his saviour.

      She didn’t know what he wanted to be saved from, but the glimpse she’d had of his lonely life had filled her with dismay. And something told her there was worse to come.

      Lily opened the front door for them.

      ‘Miss Wharton’s really hungry,’ Mark said quickly.

      ‘I’ll go and see to supper,’ she said, and vanished.

      Mark gave a violent sneeze.

      ‘I hope you haven’t caught cold,’ Evie said.

      ‘I’m all right,’ he said quickly, and vanished after Lily.

      ‘I hope you can stay with us long enough for supper at least,’ Justin murmured.

      ‘I’d better make a phone call.’

      Andrew’s voice, when he answered, was revealing. It had a subdued exasperation that told her he’d been expecting this.

      ‘I’ve got a situation here that I can’t walk away from,’ she pleaded.

      ‘Another one?’

      ‘Darling, that’s not fair,’ she said, and sensed Justin looking quickly at her. ‘I didn’t ask for this to happen—’

      ‘You never do. Things just happen to you. Evie, did it ever occur to you that your life is too crowded? Maybe you need to junk a few things, starting with me.’

      ‘You mean break up?’ she asked, aghast.

      ‘Isn’t that where we’re heading?’

      ‘No, no,’ she said frantically. ‘I don’t want to do that. Please, Andrew, it’s too important to decide like this—’

      ‘Sure, let’s put it off for a while so that you can keep me dangling at your pleasure.’

      ‘Is that really what I do?’ she asked penitently.

      ‘I can’t believe that you really don’t see it. C’mon, Evie, be brave. Say you don’t care about me—’

      ‘But I do care about you. It’s just that tonight—please be patient. I’ll call you again tomorrow, and maybe we can fix something—’

      ‘Yes, sure we will. Anything you say.’ The line clicked.

      ‘Andrew—Andrew?’

      She stared at the phone, trying to understand that dear, gentle Andrew had hung up on her.

      ‘Did he give you a hard time?’ Justin Dane asked.

      ‘I can hardly blame him,’ she said edgily. ‘Wouldn’t you be annoyed?’

      ‘Probably. You sound as though you’re leading him a merry dance.’

      ‘You’d have hung up long ago,’ she said.

      But he surprised her by giving her an odd look and saying, ‘Maybe not.’

      She wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but she had no time to brood on her own problems now. Only Mark mattered. She couldn’t forget how he’d brightened at the sight of her, or how quickly he’d said she was hungry, an excuse to keep her here.

      ‘All right,’ Justin resumed in a businesslike tone. ‘You’re entitled to an explanation, so I’ll make things clear.’

      ‘Not now.’

      He stared. ‘What?’

      ‘What Mark needs now is for us all to sit down to supper and be friendly—or at least act friendly. Explanations can come later. Then I’ll tell you what I want to know.’

      From his frown she guessed that this wasn’t how people usually treated him. And she seemed to have the gift of reading his thoughts, for she could follow the lightning process by which he worked out how to turn this to advantage.

      ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘Then if you’ll have supper with Mark I can do some work.’

      ‘No, you can have supper with us,’ she said firmly. ‘How often do you and he eat together?’

      ‘Not often, but I have things to do.’

      ‘Indeed you have, some more important than others. The most important is to be with your son.’

      His lips tightened. ‘Miss Wharton, I’m grateful for the trouble you’re taking for Mark, but this is not your decision—’

      ‘Oh, but it is. Let me make it clear to you how much my decision it is. If I can give up my evening for your son, so can you. Either you agree to be there for supper, or I’m leaving, right now. And you can explain my absence any way you like.’

      Now he was really angry. ‘I’m not in the habit of being dictated