April blinked, realising he had timed this in such a way that she would have no opportunity to ask questions. In truth, her brain was too abuzz for her even to be able to formulate any. Why hadn’t Marcus told her?
Hurt touched her but she focused on her surroundings, wanting to imprint them on her mind so that if it came to it one day she would be able to picture her child here.
She followed Marcus across a gravelled courtyard, saw the sprawl of a beautiful terracotta-hued villa lit by an alluring twinkle of artful fairy lights. The door opened and an elegant woman with ash-blonde hair opened the door.
‘Marcus. It is so lovely to see you.’ She turned to April, a look of wariness and curiosity in her bright blue eyes. ‘And you must be April. I’m Louise. I’ve read so many of your articles; you have a wonderful turn of phrase.’
‘Thank you. It’s very kind of you to invite me to dinner.’
‘Our pleasure. Come in.’
April followed Louise into a spacious living room, aware of the quiet elegance of its furnishings that created a homely, comfortable atmosphere. A dark-haired man stood in front of a mantelpiece—a man who, oddly enough, reminded her of Marcus. Of course now she knew that the resemblance couldn’t be hereditary—so what was it? Perhaps it was the man’s stance, his posture of confidence and authority. The smile he gave his wife softened his face, and she could see an unspoken communication pass between them.
‘Good evening, April. I’m Bill Alrikson. Can I offer you a drink?’
‘I’d love a soft drink—I’m working tonight and I have a busy day tomorrow, so I’d best avoid alcohol.’
Too much information, April.
Louise turned in an abrupt movement and April did her best to look as bland as possible, realising she had taken a step closer to Marcus—a move Louise had also clocked.
Relief swathed her as the door opened and Elvira burst in.
‘Big Bro!’ she exclaimed, and headed straight for Marcus, giving him a hug. Then, ‘Mama... Pops.’ Two more hugs and then she turned to April, a smile on her face but wariness rather than welcome in her dark blue eyes.
‘So,’ Louise said, ‘I understand you’re writing about “the real Marcus Alrikson”. How can we help?’
Straight to the chase.
Belatedly it occurred to April that she should have prepared some questions—she could hardly come out with, Do you think he’d make a good dad? Or, What sort of grandparents would you be?
‘Could you maybe tell me a bit about his childhood?’
Further mistake.
She had no idea when Marcus had been adopted—didn’t even know whether he and Elvira were from the same birth family or not.
But Louise didn’t bat an eyelid. ‘Of course. Marcus was a very serious child, and that’s why some of my very favourite memories are of when he laughed or even smiled.’ She turned to her husband. ‘Do you remember the bicycle?’
‘Yes.’ Bill stepped forward and handed April a mocktail. ‘It was a birthday gift. Marcus never asked for anything, but we were sure he’d love a bike. I still remember his face when he saw it. It lit up.’ Bill handed Marcus a whisky. ‘And then he offered to pay us back for it.’
‘Obviously we refused,’ Louise interpolated, with a quick glance at her husband. ‘And then he took the bike and disappeared for hours. He came back with cuts and bruises but with another smile on his face because he could ride it. It was a two-smile day!’
‘Then there was the time he ran away from boarding school,’ Bill said.
Louise shook her head. ‘Elvira had just started school, and Marcus took it into his head that he needed to be here to make sure she didn’t get bullied.’
The image of a teenage Marcus arriving home to protect his little sister was so vivid in April’s head that she blinked to clear it.
‘Did it work?’ she asked, turning to Elvira, who was watching her with suspicion still evident in her gaze. It occurred to April that the protective instinct worked two ways.
‘Of course,’ Elvira said, throwing a quick affectionate smile at her brother. ‘Mum and Dad let him stay at home and take me to and from school—it set me up for years. All my friends thought he was the coolest thing ever. They all hero-worshipped him and everyone wanted to come to my house in case he was there.’
‘Then I guess I made the right call,’ Marcus said.
‘Well, that’s what we thought,’ Louise said. ‘Which is why we squared it with your very irate head of house.’
‘I didn’t know you did that.’