That toxic feeling is creeping up on me even as she pulls it out of her pocket. Her eyebrows contract and she bites her lips softly.
I don’t have to ask. I know it’s him.
5
TORI
The Wards’ house is stunning, set in the countryside across the water from Edinburgh. The tarmacked driveway could belong to a castle, and the curved steps up to the entrance are at least as imposing as the high-ceilinged rooms. It’s a listed building, but the kitchen and bathrooms are bang up-to-date. You can practically smell their money. No wonder, because this property is basically a form of advertising for them.
Val’s wearing a dark suit that fits his broad shoulders to perfection. He greets me with a kiss on the cheek after shaking hands with my parents and nodding to Will. It’s not until Mum, Dad and my brother have followed Veronica Ward into the drawing room and the housekeeper has hung up our coats, that he kisses me on the lips in the hallway.
‘Val,’ I murmur, pushing him gently away. I wouldn’t exactly call my parents prudish, but kissing in front of them feels out of place. ‘Not here.’
He eyes me with an arrogant smile. ‘Don’t want them to know about us? That’s kind of sexy – I like it.’
‘It’s not that,’ I say, in a low voice, as we follow the others through the high double doors.
My parents, Will and the Wards are standing in front of a large painting on one of the walls. It’s a Jean-René Matignon, whichMum bought at auction at Art Basel last year. She sold it on to Veronica Ward before it even got as far as her gallery.
‘You were right. It’s like it was made for this room,’ says Mum, declining graciously, as the waitress offers her an aperitif.
‘Oh, go on, Charlotte, don’t leave me drinking on my own. You too, George.’ Veronica beckons the caterer to come back and reaches for two champagne glasses. Mum hesitates and my heart sinks a storey lower as she takes one. Dad doesn’t comment, but his eyes rest heavily on her.
It’s a work dinner, she could hardly refuse. It doesn’t mean a thing. Relax.
Val hands Will and me a glass of orange juice each, then takes the last one from the tray. It’s almost silly, considering the way he was swigging gin from the bottle and snorting cocaine at the New Year Ball. Maybe he’s remembering that too, because there’s a hint of challenge twinkling in his eye as he raises his glass to me.
‘Nice to see you all,’ says Veronica Ward. ‘It’s been too long. William, Victoria, I hardly recognized the two of you.’
I smile politely and include Will in my thanks for the invitation. Val stands beside me as our parents resume their conversation. There’s no way they can see him put his hand on my back, but it still gives me goosebumps. His fingertips stroke the black lace on my fitted dress, which I’m wearing with opaque tights and patent leather loafers.
‘You’re looking seriously hot,’ he whispers in my ear, before turning away and clinking glasses with Will.
It’s no secret that my brother can’t stand Valentine. But he answers his questions – how’s Kit? How’s tennis training going? When the caterers usher us through into the dining room, Will rolls his eyes demonstratively at me.
Fortunately, Val doesn’t notice. He’s sitting opposite me at the long table and next to his mother, who involves me in aconversation about school and my book blog. She’s trying to sound interested, but the look in her eyes when I mention Instagram and TikTok tells me what she really thinks of my hobby. Not a lot. Reviewing books and making entertaining videos is a waste of my time. Mum and Dad don’t mind me being active on social media, but she plainly thinks it’s kind of beneath me. I’d bet my signed Hope MacKenzie that Veronica Ward has no clue about her son’s Insta account. Val had the sense not to set it up under his real name. If his mother knew about Val’s fondness for topless mirror selfies after training or in the school gym (#shredded #noexcuses), she’d try to get it shut down on the spot. His thousands of followers seem to like them, though, judging by their comments – sometimes seriously weird – beneath Val’s photos.
My social battery is almost drained by the time our starter plates are cleared away.
Val’s talking to my dad about the rugby season as the main course is served. I glance at Mum’s wine glass and Will looks at me. Our eyes meet. He’s clearly about as tense as I feel.
She doesn’t stop at one glass. By dessert, Mum’s on her third top-up. She’s sitting up straight and talking animatedly to Veronica about Val’s sister Philippa. Val plays no part in the conversation. He stares at his plate while his parents discuss Pippa’s university career and the various firsts she got last term.
‘You must be very proud of her,’ says Dad. ‘And of Valentine. Captaining the rugby team is a great honour.’
Veronica nods. ‘Philippa is so ambitious. She never would settle for second best.’
‘She gets that from you,’ Val’s father remarks.
‘Thank you, Augustus.’ She dabs her mouth with her napkin. ‘Philippa is focusing on European law. It’s a challenging course, but her hard work will pay off.’
‘What a shame she couldn’t be here this evening,’ says Mum.
‘I know, but it is term time after all. I’m always glad if my work takes me anywhere near Oxford so that I can have lunch with her.’
‘What are your plans for next year, Valentine?’ Dad glances over to him.
‘Hopefully economics at Cambridge. If I get the results.’
