Chapter 12
I take an involuntary step back.
Mark. Here?
I’ve managed to avoid him for fifteen years, but now he’s at my sister’s flat? Some warning from her would have been nice.
He’s easily a whole head taller than me, but the stoop is lower than the door, so we’re eye-to-eye. His gaze has always been unsettling. He’s olive-skinned and dark-haired, and you expect his eyes to match, but they surprise you by being the colour of clear honey.
There’s nothing sweet in his expression, though.
It’s lightning fast, but he scans me up and down. If he says anything about my Britney top, I’ll slam the door in his face. The look that passes across his features is hard to read, though. What’s clear is that he isn’t happy to see me.
He frowns. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Having dinner with my sister. Weird, huh?’
I don’t want him to know he’s affecting me, but I can’t keep the sarcasm from my voice.
He narrows his hunter eyes. ‘You’re supposed to be in Paris.’
Someone told him I was going to Paris, but not that my plans had changed catastrophically?
‘Well, I’m not.’
I throw in a shrug that says no biggie.
He waits on the step, both of us seemingly frozen to the spot.
He could always stop traffic but unfairly, he looks better now at thirty-four than he did when he was nineteen.
He’s filled out, his shoulders are more powerful, the shadow on his jaw darker, his brow bone more pronounced.
All the testosterone markers that scream, ‘I can give you lots of babies’, and whether you want babies or not, something primal in you reacts to it.
It’s psychology 101 – we’re programmed to notice this stuff.
I never understood what all the fuss was about when I was at school, but I understand better now, at least on an intellectual level.
Leo was his opposite – light hair, wide-set eyes, and soft cheeks.
Cherubic, angelic. There was nothing angelic about Mark – not in how he looked and certainly not in how he behaved.
His MO was arriving at school on Monday still recovering from Sunday’s hangover and sporting a cut lip from Saturday night’s brawl.
He holds up a textbook. ‘I came to give this to Theo.’
I wait for him to offer it to me, but he evidently wants to deliver it himself.
Releasing my iron grip on the door handle, I flatten myself against the wall, motioning him to come in. He’s wearing a heather grey T-shirt and light blue jeans that don’t have holes in the knees.
The hallway is narrow and as he passes, he brushes my arm. A wave of heat floods me, and he jerks, his eyes widening before he walks on.
Breathing heavily, I rub my arm. I haven’t seen him since Leo’s funeral.
And even though it’s been fifteen years, it feels like yesterday that I was in that freezing church, shivering in the second row between Mum and Yan.
I spent most of the service staring at the back of Mark’s head, at where his military-short hair met his neck in a sharp line.
I was glad he blocked my view of the pale oak coffin.
I didn’t want to think about what was inside.
I couldn’t escape Anthi’s sobs, though. So loud they almost drowned out Father Michalis. I heard them in my dreams for years.
When we reach the kitchen Theo looks chuffed to see his friend. ‘Just in time for dinner.’
‘I’m not staying. I just wanted to drop this off.’ Mark hands over the book. ‘It’s all I had on right ventricular failure that might help with your dad’s care. We can go through it another time if you’re busy now.’
‘That’s really decent of you, mate. Thanks.’ He smiles at me. ‘You know Nella, so you should join us.’
‘Yeah,’ adds Tig. ‘Stay and eat. Look how much we made.’
Oh, come on.
First Yan offers up his flat, and now Tig wants to feed him? If I’d told my family about my last conversation with him, they’d be much less keen to roll out the red carpet.
‘And we can’t not feed the Best Man,’ adds Theo.
Best Man?
My heart starts thumping erratically. I’m raw from Friday night; if we’d had this unwanted reunion a week ago, I would have coped fine. Or at least better.
‘What are you drinking, Mark?’ demands Tig, as if once he’s got a drink in his hand he’ll be forced to stay.
‘I’m on call tonight.’
‘Well, then stay until you get called – if you get called,’ says Theo. He slaps Mark good-naturedly on the back. ‘Ah, the joy of general practice. Much more civilised hours. I don’t miss working in hospitals.’
I discreetly look at my watch. With any luck, there’s a poor sod somewhere in west London whose ticker is on its last legs.
‘We’ve got Perrier if you’re not drinking tonight. I’ll pour you a glass,’ says Tig, heading to the fridge.
I follow her to the kitchen area, separated from the dining room by a big breakfast bar.
‘Best Man?’ I hiss.
‘What’s the problem?’
‘I just … wasn’t in the mood to be sociable tonight.’
It’s a lie by omission but that’s all I’m willing to tell her.
Tig gives me a sympathetic look. ‘I’m sorry if it brings up painful memories of …’ she stops herself saying Leo’s name. ‘Theo’s an only child and Mark is like family to him. He’s really helping with the wedding.’
I fake a smile; I can handle a couple of hours with Mark Marino. Not that I have much choice.
Tig pops ice in a tall glass and pours the sparkling water. ‘Give this to him, would you? I’ve got to keep an eye on the rice.’
Mark’s already made himself at home at Tig’s dining table, sprawled on a chair with his back to the kitchen. Theo’s sitting opposite, leaning forward, and when he sees me, he suddenly stiffens, making it obvious they were talking about me. I wordlessly put the glass down without making eye contact.
Theo looks guilty. ‘Sit down, Nella.’
He pulls out a chair for me, eyes darting nervously between me and Mark.
‘So, small world, right?’ He grins toothily, determined to break the weird tension. ‘When I told Mark I’d met an amazing Greek girl who lived round the corner from where he grew up, he was gobsmacked.’ He turns to Mark. ‘Remember?’
Mark doesn’t react, but Theo is undeterred. ‘In fact, the first thing he said to me was, I hope her name’s not Nella. Ha ha! Imagine that!’
I blink, surprised by how much this stings. Even Mark stiffens.
I’m not remotely interested in my future brother-in-law, but is Mark still so angry about what I did to Leo, he’d flip out if a friend liked me?
Theo notices Mark’s stone-cold stare and stops, horrified. ‘Oh God, I forgot about that. I didn’t mean … I just meant, you know, you’d be analysing me all the time, and be all, so, let’s talk about the childhood trauma you experienced that makes you to leave the toilet seat up.’
Tig arrives and glares at him. ‘I’ll give you proper trauma if you do that.’
‘I was just making a joke. I didn’t mean to offend your profession. I’m just too much of an open book. Tig keeps telling me I need to stop being so sensitive. And thank God for that because, once—’
‘Theo, shut it,’ says Tig.
The therapist in me knows he’s trying to make an awkward situation easier, but the idea that my job might make any future boyfriend think twice is quietly terrifying.
The tense silence stretches. Mark rubs his forehead like he’s getting a headache.
Theo looks at me apologetically. ‘I just meant … I’m sure you’re wonderful and all, but not for me. I need someone to crack the whip.’
‘Babe, you’re digging the hole deeper and deeper,’ Tig mutters.
‘I’m starving – how long until dinner, Tig?’ I ask, cringing at my overly hearty tone.
‘I’ll go and check,’ she says.
Scared that Tig’s absence might rekindle the tension, I attempt some small talk.
‘So, you guys met at medical school in Leeds?’
Theo looks grateful for the lifeline, and for a moment, there’s something puzzlingly familiar in his expression.
‘That’s right, he was a couple of years above me, but we bonded on the second eleven football team.’
He looks at Mark, waiting for him to take up the story. ‘He’s the worst keeper I’ve ever played with,’ is all Mark offers.
I’m used to guys using banter to show affection, but in Mark’s case I’m not sure he doesn’t mean it as a straightforward insult.
‘That seems harsh,’ I say.
‘Oh no, Mark’s right. I was rubbish,’ Theo insists, without ego. ‘I was asthmatic as a kid, so playing keeper meant I could enjoy sports with my mates without getting out of breath.’
‘How were you with penalties?’ I ask.
‘Bloody useless,’ he grins. ‘That’s how we got talking in the pub after one of the first practices. Mark offered to take a load of penalties so I could improve.’
‘And did you?’
‘Nope,’ says Mark, without hesitation.
Again, Theo doesn’t seem to mind. ‘In the end, I realised watching football was much more my thing, but even then, Mark had to get me out of a close shave with some United fans at the pub once.’
‘At school, Mark’s hobbies revolved around the three “F”s: football, fighting and, well, I’m sure you can guess the third.’
Mark does not look happy, and I’m secretly pleased.
Theo laughs. ‘Ha ha! Sounds about right.’
Mark shakes his head. ‘I wonder when the next flight to Caracas leaves.’
Theo looks chastened. ‘Sorry, mate. You’re not like that any more. You turned your life upside down for me.’
According to Yan, he delayed his move by a few weeks. Is that really such a sacrifice?
‘He’s better off without her,’ says Tig, arriving with knives and forks.
Her?
‘Oh?’ I say, hoping someone will elaborate but not wanting to sound nosey.
For once, I’m glad Tig has no filter.
‘His girlfriend flew out without him, but not before throwing a hissy fit and giving him an ultimatum. Theo or her.’ She smiles indulgently at Theo. ‘He chose you, babe, which was completely the right choice.’
Mark asked his girlfriend to wait a few weeks, and she broke up with him? Seems extreme, but maybe theirs is a stormy on-off relationship, the kind that needs drama and fireworks to sustain itself.
Theo certainly doesn’t think it’s terminal.
‘I bet she regrets it. Once you get there, everything will be fine,’ he says. ‘Absence makes the heart grow fonder.’
‘Brigitta was pretty angry when she left.’
‘Just don’t do anything hasty before you get there,’ says Theo.
‘That begins with F?’ says Mark, with a glance at me.
Tig calls for help and Theo gets up, but not before giving Mark a pointed look. Mark ignores him and keeps his eyes on me. Wary. Watchful. It’s not a particularly fun experience being their focus. It never was.
Did you think you could do better than my brother?
The echo from fifteen years ago rings in my ears.
‘You seem remarkably well, Nella,’ he says.
I don’t bother thanking him or returning the lukewarm compliment because I know there’s more coming.
‘Considering …’
Of course there is.
‘Considering my boyfriend slept with another woman? Considering I’ve had to move back in with my parents? Considering it’s humiliating for a couples’ counsellor to have to face her cheating partner at the office in front of her patients?’
He looks at me like I’ve told him I’m joining a convent for the rollicking social life. ‘Considering you found out about this wedding twenty-four hours ago.’
Oh. The end of his sentence is so unexpected it takes me a moment to absorb it.
‘Wait, are you saying you knew about it earlier? Have they been planning it a while?’
‘Of course they have. It takes at least a month to get the banns done. Never mind finding a church and venue. I assumed Tig had told you but then Theo said she hadn’t.’
‘I haven’t seen her much recently. What with work and studying.
’ I don’t know why I’m justifying being busy to him.
Tig’s the one who’s in the wrong here. But even as I think that I also know Tig, how she can’t keep anything to herself, how she’d be too excited about a wedding not to confide in her sister.
‘Does Tig definitely want this rush-job wedding? Or is Theo putting pressure on her because of his dad’s heart attack?’
He scowls. ‘No, of course not. I’ve never seen Theo assert himself in his life. And against your sister, he’s got no chance. Like he said, she’s a ball-breaker.’
I blink at his arrogance.
He’s got some nerve criticising Tig in her own flat, where he’s just turned up uninvited, and she’s happily feeding him.
It’s one thing for our family to tease Tig about being overbearing, but Mark needs to check himself.
And it’s hard not to catch the implied dig about his supposed best mate.
And it’s not the first one tonight, either.
‘What gives you the right—’ I don’t finish because Theo returns with two plates of steaming Thai green curry. It smells amazing, but my appetite is suddenly gone. He looks between Mark and me, picking up on the undercurrent of tension.
‘Is everything okay?’
Mark doesn’t deem it necessary to reassure Theo, so it’s down to me.
‘Yeah, all good here. But Mark might have to shoot off. I’m sure I heard his bleeper.’
If Mark’s as uncomfortable as I am, he’ll bloody well take the hint and leave.
He doesn’t say anything though, he just silently glares.
‘Did the hospital call?’ asks Theo.
‘Nope.’
‘Was it Brigitta?’ he asks hopefully. ‘I knew she’d change her mind!’
‘No one has called or texted.’
‘But Nella said she—’
‘Nella’s wrong.’
‘It would be awful if you missed Brig—’
‘Please stop with the Brigitta stuff,’ says Mark, anger creeping into his voice. ‘I get it. You feel guilty that I stayed for you and messed things up with her, but I’m an adult. I make my own decisions. And so does she.’
‘But you’re being stubborn for no reason.’
Mark’s eyes flash. ‘Jesus, just drop it, Leo!’