‘Now, Charles!’
Miltondisappears into the lounge, leaving them swathed in the hostile echo of the command he just barked.
‘Okay, let’s go.’ Loris places his hand onto Charles’ arm. ‘I can lend you some clothes for the weekend. Or quickly wash those you left at my place.’
Charles peeks at the next room, where his father must be convinced that he will join him, roll over and stammer an apology for whatever offence he’s guilty of. And it’s tempting to leave him high and dry, to elope with Loris, whose tense and protective energy is fuelling new cliff scenarios. But Charles doesn’t need protection. He’s not scared. He’s mad, and he would turn furious if he let the prospect of Milton lashing out hang over their getaway.
‘I’d rather deal with it tonight. You can go wait in my room.’
‘No way!’
‘I’ll be alright.’ Charles closes Loris’ hand around his set of keys. ‘I won’t give him any power. Unless you’re here, because the way he’d treat you would get to me. Please.’
Loris’ eyes are shining with alarm, but he yields with a resigned nod.
Charles caresses his cheek. ‘You can search my wardrobes and pick the outfits you’d like to rip—’
‘Charles!’
‘Charles!’
‘—off me… What?’
Milton has shouted the loudest, but Charles faces Alice, who’s just emerged from the opposite wing. She’s short-winded, as if she barrelled across the house after hearing her husband’s booming voice, but she’s now shock-still, goggling at them.
‘What?’ Charles runs his fingers along Loris’ jawline. ‘If you could make it quick, I’m being summoned to the fireplace.’
This information pulls Alice out of her torpor. Her crazed gazeleaves Charles’ hand just as it brushes Loris’ neck, and she slips on a mask where panic and acute disapproval are fighting a fierce battle.
‘You said that you wouldn’t engage, Charles. You were supposed to reflect and—’
‘And you were supposed to protect and support me, so let’s settle for mutual disappointment.’
Charles tilts his head towards the staircase – with an assured smile that doesn’t appease Loris’ tension – and turns around to pass under the arch leading to the lion’s den.
‘Alright, why are you beside yourself?’
‘Watch your tone!’
Milton is standing in the corner of the lounge where flames would cast forbidding glimmers on his face if a wood fire were burning. But tonight, his visual tactic hinges on the brass wall lights, which is less overawing. He hasn’t set the scene, probably not expecting Charles to show up on a Friday evening.
Was he going to simmer for days in his study, waiting for the front door to open? Or was he planning to contact Charles and order him to come home?
Back in the day, Milton always thundered on his own terms, picking moments when Fred wasn’t on his guard. But Fred gave him plenty of opportunities to do so, returning to this house way more often than Charles has lately.
‘I received a phone call from Paul Stourton this afternoon.’
So the outrage is recent. That explains why Alice didn’t have time to prevent a crisis over it and looks so out of her depth as she joins Milton.
It’s a shame Charles didn’t come back to pack yesterday, before the drama occurred. He could have ignored her convoking messages. Or he would have replied with photos of cliffs.
With photos of Loris in front of cliffs.
‘Are you listening to me?’
‘Yes, Paul called. I’m pleased. Who’s Paul?’
‘A board member of the business school you seem to believe you won’t go to next year.’
