Bloodline

‘I’m going to need it,’ he said. ‘Especially when your mum and dad get here.’

‘They are coming, then?’ I was surprised.

‘They said so, but they aren’t here yet, which is slightly ominous. They only finally agreed to come yesterday, and that was thanks to you.’

‘Don’t thank me just yet,’ I said with a laugh. ‘You know how Dad can be a nightmare.’

‘To tell you the truth, I was half hoping they wouldn’t come but Angie is delighted that they are, so I’m trying to be pleased.’

As if on cue, Angela came through the French doors of the sitting room into the marquee with our mother and father.

‘Hi, Mum,’ I said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. ‘Lovely isn’t it?’

She looked around her as if in a bit of a daze. ‘I wish Clare had been here to see it.’ I could tell that she was very close to tears.

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘You’re right, Mum. So do I. But tonight is Tatiana’s big moment and we have to be happy for her.’

My mother smiled at me wanly. ‘Yes, Mark,’ she said. ‘I know. I’ll be fine.’

‘Evening, Mark,’ my father said brusquely.

I had been quite forceful in telling him that Nicholas and Angela couldn’t afford to postpone Tatiana’s party and that he should give his blessing for it to proceed. But I hadn’t expected him actually to attend the event and, unless he cheered up a bit, it might have been better if he hadn’t.

‘Evening, Dad,’ I said. ‘Doesn’t it all look wonderful?’

‘I suppose so,’ he grunted, but the marquee did look wonderful with a dozen round tables set for dinner and surrounded by white ladder-backed chairs.

‘Let me get you all a drink,’ Nicholas said, sensing the tension. He waved vigorously at one of the waiters, who brought over a tray of glasses.

I took an orange juice from the tray and Nicholas raised his eyebrows.

‘I’ve a speech to make,’ I said. ‘And I’m driving. I might have a glass of wine with dinner.’

‘You’re making the toast, remember, and we have champagne for that.’

‘I won’t forget,’ I assured him.

I went over to the bar area to give Tatiana a kiss and wish her a happy birthday.

‘You look gorgeous, darling,’ I said to her. Although, in truth, I thought her skirt was six inches too short and her heels were four inches too high.

‘Your speech is not going to be too embarrassing, is it?’ she asked.

‘Probably,’ I said.

‘Oh, God. It’s bad enough with Mum insisting on putting these dreadful pictures on all the tables. They’re so crass.’

I looked at the one nearest to me. It showed Tatiana as a baby, sitting naked in the bath. I could understand how she felt uncomfortable having a picture of herself like that for all her school friends to see. But, equally, I could appreciate how Angela would have found it rather amusing.

‘Don’t worry,’ I said. ‘I won’t be as embarrassing as that.’

She smiled at me. ‘I’m so glad. Now come and meet my friends.’

At dinner, I found myself sitting between Angela and a girl called Emily Lowther. I say a girl, but she was about my age, dark haired, beautiful and slim. She was wearing a low cut black dress that displayed just the right amount of bosom, and almost the first thing she told me was that she was a childless divorcée and one of Angela’s best friends from the local gym.

I detected a barefaced attempt by my sister to match-make, and I told her so in a fierce whisper.

‘So what?’ Angela said, unabashed. ‘Emily needs a husband, and you need a wife. And she is gorgeous, isn’t she? And frighteningly bright as well.’

She certainly was gorgeous, but did I really need a wife? Was I not happy enough as a bachelor?

It was certainly true that the ending of my affair with Sarah had made me rather glum, but I’d been so depressed anyway because of Clare that a little more misery didn’t seem to matter much.

And I kept telling myself that I missed Sarah only because some of the excitement had gone out of my life rather than for the loss of any undying love I might have had for her. In fact, I wondered if the possibility of being found out had been the most arousing aspect of our affair. So would I find the same thrill in a relationship that I could be open and honest about?

‘What happened to her husband?’ I asked Angela quietly as Emily talked to my father, who was sitting on her other side.

‘Stupid man decided after four years of marriage that he preferred boys. I ask you. Left our gorgeous Emily for some French male hairdresser called Pierre. The man must be a raving lunatic.’

Emily put her hand on my arm. ‘Mark, I’m so sorry about Clare.’

‘Thank you,’ I said, turning towards her but not removing her hand. ‘It has been a very difficult couple of weeks.’

Was it really only two weeks? How the time had dragged.

‘It must have been,’ Emily said. She moved her hand forward and placed it on the back of mine, squeezing it a little. ‘Do say if there’s anything I can do to help you, anything at all.’

‘Thank you,’ I said, looking her directly in the eyes. ‘I will.’

Was I mistaken, or had I just been propositioned for sex?

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