I don’t say anything. My heart feels cold. I know I will eventually have to let him hit me, but it is better if I tire him out first. Once he banged his head on the wall and knocked himself out. That is the best case scenario. When he woke up he was livid but it would be worth it.
Cursing, he nurses his injured knuckles in his hand for a few seconds. Then he flexes them and clenches his hand into a lethal fist. He looks up at me, his face twisted with hate.
‘If you don’t stand still boy I swear I’ll kill your mother with my bare hands,’ he snarls
This is it. The fight is over. I lock eyes with him and stop moving. He comes towards me and punches me in the gut. I don’t see it in slow motion like in the movies. His hand flashes through the air and suddenly it is in my stomach. Kaboom.
My mother screams.
I love you, mama.
Forever and ever.
Eleven
Dahlia Fury
For my birthday, buy me a politician.
‘Hey Molly,’ I say into the phone.
‘How’s it going, doll?’ Molly’s cheerful voice comes through my cellphone.
‘Great. How are you?’
She sighs. ‘I’ve got a client who insists on wearing leopard and tiger prints at the same time. If it gets out that she consulted me, my reputation will be in tatters.’
I laugh. ‘You’ll make it work.’
‘I do hope you’re right. So what can I do for you today?’
‘I need something to wear to the races.’
‘At this time of the year you’re presumably going to Cheltenham?’
‘Yes, I am.’
‘It’s less high fashion than Ascot, but it can be lots of fun and very romantic if it rains.’
‘What? English rain is just wet and cold.’
‘The object is not to go into the rain, but snuggle up to each other in the bleachers.’
‘Sorry, I’m not going to hope for rain.’
She chuckles. ‘Coming back to your outfit. I think I have exactly the thing for you. I just saw it like three minutes ago at my friend’s boutique. It’s very, very French. A two piece skirt suit.’
‘Brilliant.’
‘Do you want to wear a hat?’
‘A hat? I haven’t worn a hat since I was a kid.’
‘Then you must wear one. The races is one of the last few places left that one can wear a hat to anymore.’
‘You have successfully convinced me,’ I say with a laugh.
‘When are you going?’
‘Day after tomorrow.’
‘Oh, that soon.’ She pauses. ‘I have your measurements so I’ll see if I can get a milliner to make one to match your outfit. Marney should be able to do it, but I’ll call you back and let you know if she can’t, and I have to find something readymade instead.’
‘OK,’ I say, impressed by Molly’s list of contacts and her ability to rustle up the perfect outfit at moment’s notice.
‘Right see you tomorrow night,’ she says crisply.
‘Thanks, Molly.’
I slip into nude block heels (Molly says high heels will simply mean I’ll spend my day balancing on the balls of my feet on grass) and stand in front of the mirror looking like a character from Beverley Hills Housewives. My dress is immaculately tailored, lush pink, knee-length number. It comes with a coat in the same material an inch longer than the dress. The hat is a side sweep felt concoction in a delicate shade of blush, and decorated with three silk camellias dyed to match my outfit.
‘Go knock him dead, Dahlia,’ I whisper to my reflection, and go down the stairs to Zane’s room.
As I open the door he is getting into a dusty-black single-breasted jacket. His shirt is bottle green and his tie mustard brown. Wow! He looks precious yes, but complicated. Somehow astonishing. Like coming across an extinct saber-toothed tiger and knowing that loving him or bringing him into your world can only mean loss. But he is real and I love him. The visceral desire to protect him is so strong I feel it like something the size of a fist in my throat.
He stops mid-shrug and stares at me.
Don’t address him seriously or carefully. This is a light occasion. I clear my throat and I twirl around. ‘Well, what do you think?’ My voice is light and easy.
He pulls the lapels of his jacket together and walks up to me. ‘I think,’ he says brushing the back of his hand on my cheek, ‘it is cruel that one woman should have been given so much beauty.’
I grin. ‘And I think it is cruel that one man should have been given so much charm.’
He smiles. ‘That is one adjective I’ve never heard used on me before.’
‘That’s probably because you didn’t decide to lay it on thick before.’
His eyes glow. ‘There was no one worth laying it on thick for.’
I place my hand gently on his chest and look up into his gorgeous eyes. ‘Good. I’m glad.’