“That’s the school I told you about,” said Xander. “You can go there if you want to,” he went on, keeping his tone of voice casual.
He saw Dan’s head turn to look in the rearview mirror.
“We’ll have to see,” said Laurel. Her voice was not bright but compressed.
For a second Xander’s eyes met hers in the reflection. Clashed hostilely.
His eyes went back to the road. The village with the house he’d rented was a few miles further on, in open countryside. It was as prosperous-looking as the market town, with a village green, a well-kept pub, a smart village shop declaring itself to be a delicatessen and artisan bakery, all neatly manicured and well-heeled. He drew up at one of the several large cottages set a little way off from the green. Detached, made of brick and flint, it had a small white-fenced garden, a front porch and a separate garage to the side. He turned into the driveway in front of the garage and cut the engine.
“Here we are,” he announced. “Let’s take a look.”
He himself already had, with the estate agent when he’d signed the tenancy, just as he’d already looked around the excellently well-equipped fee-paying school Dan would—he fully intended—be going to next term, reserving a place with the headmaster. But these weeks of the Easter holiday before term started were going to be essential to help get Dan used to the new life he’d be living now. Getting him to accept it as his new life. Whether Laurel accepted it he couldn’t care less. If she didn’t, then he’d make a formal application for joint custody. Drag her into court if he had to, to get his rightful share of the son she’d deprived him of.
As he cast his eye over the neat, spacious, well-kept cottage in this clearly affluent village, a cynical expression fleeted in his eyes. What possible reason would Laurel have to object to living here, completely free, in all this affluence, rather than that cramped terrace house in that urban street in North London?
After all, she took to life with me on my yacht easily enough—enjoyed the luxury I could afford.
His expression darkened. Yes, so much so that she’d tried to take a pricey little souvenir of it back home with her once she realised it was all ending…
He opened the car door and Dan clambered down, looking about him. Laurel got out, and took Dan’s hand.
“It looks nice,” she said. Her voice was back to bright, and she headed to the front door with Dan. Xander followed with the house keys and her suitcases. When he’d got her to accept that this move was permanent he’d make arrangements to get all of his son’s things here. That was all that would be necessary. The house came move-in ready, fully equipped. What Laurel did with her own house and its contents, he didn’t care.
All he cared about was Dan.
He opened the front door and ushered them in.
Laurel looked around her. Fernwood Cottage was more of a house than a cottage, and it was very swish indeed. The rent—she’d seen online—was sky high. But Xander Xenakis could afford it. She explored it with Dan, starting with the beautifully furnished sitting room with its log burner in the fireplace, and patio doors to the garden beyond, glancing in at the formal dining room on the other side of the entrance hall, and then the kitchen, a sunny extension with large windows and a partial glass roof, top-of-the-range units, a breakfast bar and a separate kitchen table. It was all very, very nice, she had to concede. Consternation filled her. Of course it would be lovely to live here. How could it not be? It was more than twice the size of her little terrace house, and she could see that the garden stretched way back to the woods beyond. Xander had chosen well, though it galled her to admit it.
But I won’t be rushed—I won’t! He can’t just bulldoze me. I won’t let him!
She knew, bitterly, that if it came to a legal fight over Dan, Xander would be a terrifyingly powerful opponent. She couldn’t risk it, she just couldn’t. So surely this way, galling though it was, was preferable? Cooperating, though it choked her—but never just giving in across the board.
Determination filled her as she followed Dan upstairs. Xander was leaving them be, and she was grateful for that at least. Upstairs were three bedrooms, a master with an en suite, plus a very fancy bathroom for the other two bedrooms. Dan made a beeline for the one that looked out over the garden.
“Can I have this one, Mum?” he asked. She could hear eagerness in his voice and felt her heart constrict. It wouldn’t take him long to want to live here all the time. Or go to the school that would obviously be such a cut above the one in London, both in terms of facilities—all those playing fields and swimming pool and goodness knew what else—and of educational standard. She wouldn’t have to worry about him falling behind. And that wouldn’t be the only thing she’d not have to worry about. No more bills to pay either, no more money worries…
Yes, putting herself into Xander’s hands would have its advantages.
Except that it came with Xander himself. Who condemned her as a thief…
“Mum! Look! There, at the back of the garden!” Dan exclaimed excitedly, interrupting her troubled thoughts.
She went across to him to see what he was seeing. At the far end of the garden, beyond the lawn which was easily big enough to kick a ball around in, was a wooden summer house. It would make a great den…
Just like this house would make a great home…
She turned away. “Shall we go out into the garden and take a look?” she suggested, her voice bright. But it was an effort to make it so. Unease was lapping at her. Xander was making it clear he was changing his son’s life, and hers would change with it.
How can I cope with any of it? Come to terms with it?
And it was not—she felt that sense of unease grip more tightly—the mere physical circumstances that Xander was changing that she was going to have to cope with.
It’s Xander—Xander himself! After everything that happened, I’ve spent seven years putting behind me!
And now he was back. Back in her life…
She could sense a hollow form inside her as she walked downstairs with Dan. Xander was in the sitting room, opening the patio doors. She felt her breath catch, eyes fastening on him. Oh dear God, was it possible that she should still,still, after all he’d done to her,stillreact this way to him? Still feel it like a blow to her solar plexus, taking in his tall lean strength, that sable hair, those planed features she had known so, so well…
