‘The form is chaotic. The content isn’t, unless—’
Loris cuts himself off, and Charles’ head snaps up, because the front door has slammed closed downstairs.
‘It must be Clare leaving. Or Robbie coming back. He’s our driver. What were you saying?’
‘Sofiais only chaotic through theMind of Wondersfilter, meaning She’s not.’
‘We’re not having this debate now, Loris. I really don’t want to get annoyed at you in this room.’
‘Okay, okay… So tell me who you speak to when you come here for answers. The women outside the Nevsky Cathedral? They look like they wouldn’t tell you what you want to hear either.’
‘I don’t talk. Most times,I—’
‘Charles!’
‘—simply— Shit!’
‘Robbie?’ Loris asks unconvincingly.
‘No.’ Charles scurries across the room, panic rumbling in his chest. ‘Damn it.’
‘Should I hide behind the…Putain. A Henry Moore bronze!’
‘Please don’t.’
It would be utterly suspicious if Loris squatted behind the pedestal. And he’s perfectly entitled to be here. He’s not the one who was supposed to be out and might ruin the day from start to finish.
‘What are you doing here?’ Charles hisses when his father appears in the corridor, sterner than ever.
‘The last time I checked, I owned this house.’
‘Weren’t you going to—’
‘Your mother was worried about the preparations for tomorrow’s lunch. With reason. Thankfully, we caught Carla before she left.’
‘Her name is Clare.’
‘She said that you brought a guest to the art room. You know this is something I want you to run by me beforehand.’
Milton moves to sidestep him, so Charles whirls around to re-enter the room first.
His panic turns into dread, but it has nothing to do with the relationship he needs to conceal. Milton would believe Loris is a time-travelling pirate before contemplating the possibility that they’re romantically involved together.
Charles’ fear is fuelled by the strong probability that his father is about to be venomous.
‘This is my friend Loris. Loris, meet my father, Milton Ledwell.’
Loris smiles, holding his hand out. ‘It’s a pleasure.’
Milton shakes it mechanically, his eyes sweeping the room in search of anything the intruder mayhave disrupted. When he eventually looks at Loris and scans his outfit, contempt starts seeping out of his pores.
‘How do you know Charles?’
‘We met through art. And I must say that your collection is truly extraordinary. It’s a privilege to see it.’
‘Indeed. Is it a French accent that I am perceiving?’
‘Indeed.’
