Chapter 5 #2
“People are talking about you and Dad too.”
My bluntness made her falter briefly, and it took a few moments for her to regain her composure. “You can’t compare over thirty years of marriage with three months of dating. They’re two entirely different situations.”
I agreed with that last bit, but not for the reasons my mum imagined.
Kate had simply had a run of bad luck in her life.
Through no fault of her own, she had ended up living on the streets, as Henry had confided in one of our recent conversations.
My dad, on the other hand, had made all his decisions of his own free will, and had taken the wrong turn again and again.
The waiter brought over our tea and draped the napkin over my mum’s lap.
She seemed to conclude that the conversation had become too heavy for afternoon tea and steered it back to London’s Finest Society, the women’s club she ran together with her friend Isabella Kensington.
With the help of other group members, they organised regular events, but in reality, the group was little more than a pretext for gossip.
“Do you want the rest?” asked my mum, gesturing at the cake on her plate. I’d already devoured my sandwiches, but to say I was full would have been a lie. The sandwiches were tiny, and with the amount of exercise I’d been doing recently, I was permanently famished.
“Only if you’re finished with it.”
“Yes, I’m done.” She slid her plate towards me. “And anyway, I have to watch my figure.”
I raised my eyebrows. My mum was willowy, and if anything, the stress of the past few months had made her lose weight rather than gain it. In my opinion, she could have done with a few more pounds, but I wasn’t going to tell her so bluntly. “You look stunning.”
My mum’s gaze flitted over my shoulder, and I caught the unease in her eyes seconds before I felt two hands settle on my shoulders. Instinctively, every alarm bell went off in my head. My muscles tensed and my breathing quickened.
“Who looks stunning?” my dad asked, squeezing my shoulders a little too hard for it to feel like an affectionate gesture. Then he released me and took the empty chair at our table.
He was wearing a dark suit, and although his once-black hair was now grey, his blue eyes were as sharp as ever.
Objectively speaking, my father was a good-looking man for his age, and I was well aware that many envied me for the genes he’d passed on to me, which made women fall at my feet no matter how I behaved.
I, on the other hand, envied Logan for taking after our mum.
I hated looking like a younger clone of my dad.
“Mum,” I answered curtly.
“Of course she does. Why do you think I married her?”
Because you like spending time with her? Because you value her opinion? Because she makes you happy? I could have come up with at least two dozen more reasons, but instead, I answered with a forced smile.
Silence settled over our table, made all the more noticeable by the fact that the pianist had chosen that moment to take a short break. The other guests didn’t seem to mind, but it made the back of my neck crawl.
“Why won’t you play something for us, sweetie?” my mum asked, touching my hand. Her fingers were cold as ice. “Please? I haven’t heard you play in such a long time.”
I didn’t really want to, especially not in front of my dad. It had been months since I’d last sat at a piano, and years since I’d played in front of an audience. I was pretty out of practice, but I couldn’t deny her request. “Anything in particular you’d like to hear?”
“No. Surprise me.”
Aware of being followed by my dad’s sceptical gaze, I made my way over to the piano and sat on the black stool.
As I adjusted the height—I was considerably taller than Theodore—I thought about what I could play without embarrassing myself.
A piece by Muzio Clementi came to mind. I placed my hands on the keys, pressing lightly to get a feel for them.
It was remarkable how something that had felt so natural for years could now feel so alien.
A hush fell over the room. People were still murmuring quietly at a few tables, but when I looked up, I realised that many of the guests had stopped talking to listen to me.
It clearly hadn’t escaped their notice that I’d taken the pianist’s place.
They would have done better to listen to him, though, since unlike me, he knew what he was doing.
But it wasn’t their curiosity that made my heart beat faster.
It was my dad’s scrutiny. His expression was blank, but his gaze was not.
It was dark, and I could see how he was silently warning me not to disgrace him.
Not again.