‘Try me.’
‘I intend to,’ she said incredulously.
But again he proved himself better than her doubts. His egg and chips might not have been haute cuisine but they were properly cooked, even if both father and son drenched everything in tomato ketchup. She had to smile at the sight of them acting in unison, wiping their plates with bread, fearful of losing the last smidgen of ketchup.
When the meal was over she leaned back, watching him, her arms folded.
‘Well?’ she said.
‘Well?’
She inclined her head slightly towards the sink.
‘I did the cooking,’ he said indignantly.
‘Yeah, but we invited ourselves, Dad,’ Mark muttered.
‘Fine. I’ll wash, you dry.’ He rose. ‘Where’s the washing-up liquid?’
‘I’ll do it,’ she said, laughing.
In the end they all did it together in an atmosphere that was more pleasant than she would have dared to hope. Afterwards Mark asked to watch the television, and was amazed to discover that the set only received four terrestrial channels and had no teletext. Nor was there a video.
‘Gosh, it’s like history!’ he gasped.
‘Mark!’ Justin said sharply.
‘It’s all right.’ Evie chuckled. ‘He didn’t mean it rudely. It must be like something out of the Dark Ages to a modern child.’
In the end they settled down to watch the news, until they heard an ominous sound outside. Evie turned down the sound and they all listened in alarm.
‘It’s raining!’ Mark whispered in horror.
They went outside, where it was pelting down.
‘It’ll be all right in the morning,’ Evie said.
Mark looked at her. ‘Promise?’
‘Promise,’ she said recklessly. ‘And now I think you should go to bed. It’s late and tomorrow’s a big day.’
‘Can we go swimming?’
‘What about your cold?’
‘It’s better, honestly. Isn’t it, Dad?’
‘I wouldn’t have brought him here otherwise,’ Justin assured her. ‘Mark, you heard what Miss Wharton said. Up to bed.’
Mark took her hand. ‘Miss Wharton—can I call you Evie?’
‘Mark!’
‘Well, I’m not his teacher any more,’ she said. ‘Evie it is.’
Mark departed, satisfied.
‘I apologise,’ Justin groaned.
‘Don’t. He’s just being friendly.’
‘How friendly do you think he’ll be tomorrow when it rains?’
‘It won’t rain.’
‘How can you be sure?’
‘Because I promised him. You heard me.’
‘Yes, but—’
‘It won’t rain. I promised.’ She yawned. ‘I think I’ll go to bed too. Sea air makes me sleepy. ‘G’night.’
‘Goodnight.’
In her room she undressed and went to bed, listening for the sound of him coming upstairs. She was still listening when she fell asleep.
She didn’t know what roused her, but she awoke suddenly in the darkness. The clock by her bed showed two o’clock. She listened and thought she could hear a voice talking in the distance.
Pulling a dressing gown on over her pyjamas, she crept out into the corridor and went to the top of the stairs, from where she could see down into the main room.
Just as Mark had predicted, Justin had set up a laptop computer and was staring at the screen at the same time as talking into his cellphone. He spoke softly, but Evie could pick up the tense note in his voice.
‘I’m sorry but I just couldn’t take the call this afternoon—I know what I said but I had important business—’
She went quietly downstairs and into the kitchen. By the time she returned with two large mugs of tea he was off the phone.
‘Thanks,’ he said, taking one. ‘Sorry if I disturbed you, but I had to catch up with my work somehow.’
‘Yes, you’ve obviously come prepared. I’m surprised you could put work aside long enough to drive down here. All those hours not at the computer, not on the phone, not making contacts.’
‘I don’t bother to make contacts any more. I don’t need to. People contact me.’
‘You arrogant so-and-so,’ she said, amused. ‘Anyway, it isn’t true. There’s always someone bigger you can be doing business with.’
‘That’s true,’ he reflected. ‘Why don’t you say outright that you’re just surprised that I put Mark first?’
‘Well—’
‘Don’t worry, you’ve already made your poor opinion of me pretty plain, and I’m not arguing with it.’
‘Hey, I didn’t exactly—’
‘Are you saying you don’t have a poor opinion of me?’
‘Well, it improved when you took the trouble to drive down here for Mark’s sake. Although it takes a dive at your way of moving people around like pieces on your own private chessboard.’
‘Do I do that? Well, maybe sometimes.’
‘You know quite well that you do.’
‘Miss Wharton—’ he began in a patient voice, but she stopped him.
‘What did you say?’
‘Nothing.’
‘You did, you called me something.’
‘I called you Miss Wharton.’
‘But why?’
‘I thought it was your name.’
‘But why aren’t you calling me Evie?’
‘Because you haven’t given me your permission.’
She tore her hair. ‘I gave it to Mark.’
‘Yes, to Mark. Not to me.’
He was serious, she realised. Was it possible for a modern man to be so old-fashioned? Against her will she realised that there was something charming about it.
‘Why are you smiling?’ he asked suspiciously.
‘It’s nothing.’ It wouldn’t do to tell him she found him charming. He would hate it. ‘Call me Evie. And look, you can stay for a short time, but I’ll have to ask you to leave without warning. I’m expecting someone.’
‘Andrew?’
‘Yes, not that it’s any of your business.’
‘When’s he coming?’
‘I’m not sure, but when I know he’s on his way you really do have to go. He and I have a lot of ground to make up.’
‘You mean because of the other evening?’
‘Among other things.’
‘But surely you made it up when he called you?’
She made a face. ‘That wasn’t him. It was someone trying