Behind Blue Eyes: Empty Glass

By Anne-Marie Klein

It’s 1993 and Ian Harrington is happy. He is the lead singer of a successful band about to embark on another headlining European tour, and he and his partner are living a life of domestic bliss with their growing family. A quick trip home to England before his return to the stage throws everything into chaos as he locks horns once again with his famous father, the formidable but selfish designer John Harrington, who has once again carved himself a familiar path towards disaster. Before they can resolve their conflict, tragedy strikes and the consequences of John’s recklessness become the catalyst for Ian’s own downward spiral; suddenly, he risks destroying everything he has worked so hard for and losing everyone who means the most to him.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Nov 30, 2016
• ISBN: 9780988005174

Book preview

Behind Blue Eyes

Empty Glass

Anne-Marie Klein

This is a work of fiction.

Behind Blue Eyes: Empty Glass. Copyright © 2016 by Anne-Marie Klein. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any manner whatsoever without permission of the copyright owner. For more information or to inquire about reproduction rights, contact [e-mail].

Cover art and design © 2016 by Will Parks.

Published by behindblueeyes.ca.

ISBN 978–0–9880051–6–7 (Lulu Trade Paperback Edition)

ISBN 978–0–9880051–7–4 (Electronic EPUB/Kindle Edition)

For all the Wholigans out there

who are part of my Who family,

and for Pete Townshend,

whose music brought us together.

1993

Chapter One

We’re almost there, sir, said the taxi driver. Less than two miles now.

Ian nodded and blinked, straightening his shoulders to peer out the window. He was exhausted from the overnight flight and subsequent ride from Heathrow. Beside him in the back seat, Diandra dozed with their son curled up in her lap and older daughter leaning into her shoulder.

Here we are.

The vehicle turned into a narrow laneway with thick, overgrown bushes that slapped against the sides of the vehicle. Evan stirred, and the bumpy road made him turn to the window and begin to take notice of his surroundings.

The lane widened into a driveway that curved towards the main residence. The brown brick, two-storey country manor was topped by a grey slate trapezoid roof. Ian spotted his father’s silver Jaguar in front of the attached garage as the taxi came to a stop: there was no porch, only a covered alcove with a dark green door.

Evan felt the change from motion to stillness and jerked away from his mother’s arms. She groaned and straightened herself up, forcing Victoria awake with her movements. The boy’s eyes darted from one side of the glass to the other, and he spotted the middle-aged man standing by the main entrance.

Granddad!

Ian’s face turned with the noise and he wondered what his father was doing outside by himself at such an early hour. His eyes drifted downward, and he frowned when he saw the lit cigarette dangling between his fingers.

The car doors swung open and Evan tumbled out, nimbly landing on his feet. Ian caught his father crushing the butt on the gravel before his son rushed the few steps to reach him. Victoria climbed out behind her brother and mother, and stretched her stiff legs before making her way to him.

Did you notice the cigarette? whispered Diandra as Ian pulled the luggage from the car with the help of the driver.

I did.

He paid their fare, nodding back as the cabbie thanked him for his generous gratuity. Diandra glanced in their children’s direction, and the sight of John accepting their affectionate hugs and kisses made her smile.

Ian organised the suitcases at their feet as the taxi sped off.

I wonder why he’s smoking again.

She shrugged her shoulders, knowing from experience how difficult it was to break the habit permanently. She had stopped for the last time during her pregnancy six years earlier and though she had yet to light up again, the temptation remained. Maybe he just misses it—don’t you sometimes?

Not enough to start up, and I’ve never been scared into giving it up for my health like he was after his heart attack.

John drew away from his grandchildren and turned to his eldest son. Ian stepped forward, and the two men embraced warmly. He observed that his father had a harried look, likely the result of long hours planning the last collection he had just shown in London.

You look great, son. He turned to Diandra. And you’re like fine wine, my dear. You get better every time I see you.

She beamed as she accepted his arms. He felt soft in a way that middle-aged men often did as time changed their physique, and she suddenly longed for a mattress and a pillow.

He sensed her fatigue and stepped back. Long flight?

She forced a smile. Yeah, I’m more than ready for a bed.

Let’s get you into one, then. His eyes twinkled with mischief. Well, not you and I together—

She laughed. John, you never change. Thank God for that.

Ian gave him an exaggerated eye roll. You’re getting a bit old for it, Dad.

John raised an eyebrow at the reprimand and Diandra sprang to his defence, curling her arm into his. Don’t listen to him, John—he’s still far too young to possibly understand. I’m turning forty-one in a few months and appreciate all the innuendo. Anything that helps Ian remember I’m still desirable to other men is fine by me.

Ian turned to his partner. Love, I don’t know why you would need a reminder from anyone. You turn heads wherever you go, and you always will.

She released John’s arm and curled her fingers around Ian’s neck. That was a sweet thing to say. She gave him a kiss.

My son does speak the truth, Diandra. You’re still in your prime, and if I weren’t already with Nicky and you weren’t snatched up, well…

Ian sighed. Can we get these cases inside?

I’m just teasing, son. John picked up a duffle bag. You always were a crank after a long flight.

Yeah, I know, Dad. He smiled. On both counts.

Everyone helped bring the luggage into the vestibule of the house. On the left, an oak staircase led to five second-storey bedrooms, while to the right, double doors opened onto the formal dining space from the living room. The kitchen and breakfast area were at the rear. The décor was sombre, with traditional colours to accentuate the wealth and good taste of its absentee owners. Framed lithographs of horses and country scenes depicting rural pastimes of the privileged set hung in the main hall.

John took notice of his son’s fixation with the wall art. Appallingly boring, aren’t they?

Hm, agreed Ian. I guess it’s meant to appeal to the tourists—all things British and what not. Tell me we’re not going to be drinking our tea in those dreadful Victorian cup and saucer sets.

John laughed. You may well need seconds, I’m afraid.

He stepped into the dining room and pointed to the bone china in the display cabinet, then sauntered to the glass doors that opened onto the back of the property.

He turned to Victoria and Evan. I’ll bet you’re dying to see your cousins, am I right? They nodded eagerly. Well, follow me. They’re just finishing breakfast.

The grey stones formed a rectangular patio that gave way to a huge lawn, and the family sat at the round iron table, ending their morning meal. Chairs screeched against the rock slabs as the English children recognised their Canadian relations and jumped out to greet them. There were hugs, kisses, and warm hellos exchanged, and Ian waited for Nicky to finish speaking with his girlfriend and children before he moved towards her. Drawing her close, he savoured the contact: both were aware of the depth of his feelings for her and that despite the considerable passage of time between his burgeoning adolescence and the present, he continued to carry the burden of largely dormant tugs of affection and desire.

She stepped back and smiled at him, lifting a hand to his cheek. You look wonderful. So…happy.

There was a wistful quality in her voice so subtle that a less sensitive person would have missed it.

I am happy, he admitted. And you must be, too, judging by how you’re keeping yourself.

She waved away the polite compliment. I’m not keeping myself well at all these days. I’m very tired a lot of the time.

John cleared his throat from the patio doors. Come on, I’ll show you to your rooms. No doubt you are all in dire need of some sleep.

Ian looked at him, then turned to observe Nicky’s face. There was an obvious distance between the couple, and his father was attempting to minimise the discomfort by ushering them away. Diandra accepted his offer and the small talk she made so expertly allowed John to lead his son’s family through the main floor and up the stairs without a loss of face. He pushed open the pair of doors to the smaller bedrooms their children would be sharing with his two youngest.

Ian looked at the tasteful guest suite chosen for him and Diandra: the colours were neutral and the dark wood furniture looked expensive and functional.

Come, Di, I’ll help you settle the children in, John said as the luggage touched the floor. Ian can start putting things in order here while we sort them out.

Ian tried to lock eyes with him, but he refused to glance in his direction. Why are you afraid to be alone with me? Ian pondered the question and thoughts danced in his head until the only likely conclusion was that he had not imagined the tension between his father and Nicky. You’re afraid of what I might ask. You know I’ve noticed something is very wrong and that sooner or later, I’ll bring it up.

He lifted his suitcase onto the bed, resenting his father’s reservations because he felt he was capable of greater discretion and sympathy than he was being given credit for. He began to place shirts and jeans in the closet, then stuffed tee-shirts, socks, and underwear in the long dresser under the window facing the yard.

Ian looked out to the lawn beyond the stone terrace: its width and length mirrored a high school athletic field, bordered by privacy hedges on the three sides not touching the rear of the house. There were a few bright flowers in the elevated beds framing the edge of the patio, but the grass and darker shrubs gave the back of the property a clean and elegant simplicity.

In the middle of the lawn, Emma was chasing a ball under her mother’s care. She had kicked off her shoes and was in her bare feet on the soft grass, absorbed in thought while her daughter amused herself. The bright blue ball rolled past her, but she failed to notice it until Emma shouted. Nicky’s face lit up at the sound of her voice, and she sprang forward to retrieve the toy.

Well, they’re both asleep.

Ian nodded absent-mindedly, eyes still focused on the human scene unfolding below. Diandra curled her arms around his waist and pressed herself against him from behind.

What’s got your attention?

Ian felt her hand slip under his jeans. You do now, love. He craned his neck to kiss her cheek.

Good answer, she purred, glancing downward to see what had so enraptured him. She watched the two heads of bright copper run together on the lawn, and rested her chin on Ian’s shoulder. What a lovely picture that makes. She really does love being with her children.

Ian sighed, and his reaction puzzled Diandra.

What’s on your mind, hon? You haven’t quite seemed yourself since we got here.

He turned and leaned his tall frame against the windowsill. Something’s not right between my dad and Nicky.

What makes you say that?

It’s not like Dad to be smoking, or to be as nervous as he seems.

It could be that they started the day on the wrong foot. You know—an early morning tiff that could have happened just before our arrival.

I think it’s more than that. Did you notice he’s sticking closer to you than anyone else?

That’s only because he has exquisite taste.

Ian smiled. I meant aside from that most obvious fact.

And you think there’s a reason for that?

I think he wants to keep you between us so that I can’t ask him what’s going on.

It does make sense. Why don’t you let me take advantage of this to find out what the problem is? Her offer was greeted with a dour face. You don’t like the idea? I thought it was quite clever—underhanded, even.

No, the idea’s fine. It’s just that I’m annoyed that he doesn’t want to talk to me about whatever he’s going through.

She took his hand. Maybe he’s the culprit, if there is one. What father wants to admit that to his son?

Maybe…

Or maybe she is, and what father wants to explain that as well?

I know you’re probably right, love, I just… He couldn’t find the words.

You just love your dad and you want to help him but feel shut out.

That’s it exactly.

She leaned forward and found his ear. We’ve only got a few hours before the children wake up. Are you going to take advantage of this lull and take me to bed or what?

He blushed in that modest manner she still found so endearing nearly a decade and a half since they’d first met. Scooping her up in his arms, he flung her on the bed with abandon, and then threw himself over her inviting frame.

Are we aiming for quality or quantity? His fingers began to fumble with the buttons of her rumpled cotton blouse, and he uncovered her voluptuous breasts.

Can’t we have both?

He buried his face between them then kissed her nipples in response. We can certainly try. He towered over her on his knees, peeling off his long-sleeved shirt.

She admired his lean, muscular torso and ran her fingers through the sparse hairs on his bare chest. You’re still so sexy to me.

He smiled and pulled her cotton-knit skirt down until it passed her feet. Her bare legs were smooth to the touch, and his hand travelled up her thigh only to realise she had no underwear on.

She monitored his expression of surprise and winked at him. I was hoping the kids would fall asleep during the flight so you and I could get lucky.

He fumbled with his jeans. You’re a wicked woman.

She leapt forward and pushed him onto his back. Then let me show you my wicked ways.

She deftly removed his briefs, leaving them below his knees but just above the ankles under his jeans. Unable to wriggle free, his legs were trapped in the fabric. With his wrists pinned to the mattress by her strong, determined hands, she climbed over him and then lowered herself in a deliberately languid motion. He moaned as he accepted her dominant play, refusing to use his superior force to free his arms.

She could sense his frustration as she slowed her rhythm, and threw him a taunt to reverse their roles. You’re not going to let a mere woman toy with you like that, are you?

Ian grinned and she fell forward into his arms with only the slightest show of strength from him.

What would you rather have me do? Not that you’re in a position to make any demands, my pretty.

She made a mock attempt to release herself from his convincing grasp, and her dramatic struggle excited him even more. Placing a firm hand on her neck, he guided her forward until her head was pressed into a pillow.

Don’t move.

He lifted her by the waist so that he could enter her from behind. Folding her arms to the side, she responded to his furious thrusts with halted gasps and groans as her fingernails dug into the mattress.

Is this more like it? he panted as he slammed in and out of her.

It’s a start, but you can do better.

Ian slipped out and laughed as he turned her around to face him. How so?

He could see the unmistakable gleam of desire in her eyes. She brought her hands to her inner thighs and invited him to resume his actions. I want to feel your hot breath on my neck, and hear every loud grunt as you pound in and out of me.

Her mouth found his ear and the begging and pleading peppered with dirty, base words heightened the excitement; he exploded between her thighs with one sustained moan of satisfaction.

Diandra caressed her partner’s sweat-soaked curls and then kissed his forehead. She could feel the semen spilling out onto the bed sheets, and closed her legs tightly to prevent it going further.

Oh, you’re not getting away that easily.

Ian dug his hand into the gap between her thighs: she was so moist that he found it easy to arouse her with his fingers, alternating pace and intensity to increase her pleasure. She leaned back and responded by writhing on the mattress, his closed fist massaging her until he knew her senses were surging. She gasped as he brought on the telltale spasms that announced her orgasm. He took her hand into his: gently lifting it, he kissed her knuckles one by one.

Tell me I’ve given you enough quality and quantity that we can both get some sleep.

Diandra pushed the wet locks from his face. You always do. Surely you know that by now.

He acknowledged her kind words with a soft kiss to her forehead, and let himself fall to the mattress. She rolled over to curl up against his warm body and closed her eyes, smiling as his breathing slowed. Exhausted by the overnight travel and drained by their frantic lovemaking, the couple drifted off to sleep.

Please tell me there’s some wine left!

Ian smiled up at Diandra as she stepped out onto the terrace with an exasperated look on her face. It was nearing nine o’clock in the evening, and a cool breeze blew over the grounds.

Rough time of it, then? John asked as she slipped into the free chair between him and his son.

She brushed back a loose curl from her face. It’s always like that when he’s in a new bed. He insisted on two stories and a sing-a-long before agreeing to go to sleep.

John smiled at the image she had created of her difficult five-year-old. I’m sure Spencer enjoyed that.

He was easy. He basically ignored us and kept reading his book. She took a small sip of the white wine John had placed before her. He’s a sweet boy.

Nicky nodded. He and Emma have a much gentler temperament than Holden. He’s just impossible these days.

His hormones have taken over as well. John gave an exaggerated eye roll. We’re done for.

He was trying long before puberty crept up, argued Nicky with fatigue in her voice. He’s always had that streak of defiance, testing every limit. Now he’s just unbearable.

I wonder which other firstborn that reminds me of.

John laughed at his son’s comment. Yes, Jane was quite the handful from the start—and she still is!

Diandra smiled. Well, your children’s mothers are lucky that only the firstborns take after you.

Her comment, innocently made, elicited three different reactions from those around her. The image of his own mother flashed through Ian’s mind, and he found it troubling that it was increasingly difficult to conjure her up in a clear manner: he had many photographs to help trigger his recall, but time had faded her face from his memories. Nicky cast her eyes downward, reminded that Holden’s disagreeable nature was perhaps an uncontrollable inheritance, while her husband laughed at Diandra’s astute observation.

You might just be right about that, he admitted. At least this way, Holden and I are still outnumbered.

Nicky bristled. You make it sound like we’re in battle.

John’s eyes gleamed, and he seemed eager to stir controversy. Darling, every marriage is a battlefield in some fashion or other.

His manner struck Ian as unnecessarily cruel and cemented his belief that there was trouble in their union.

What a horrible thing to say. Nicky’s voice was curt yet unmistakably wounded.

I suspect John is just trying to be his usual shocking self, cut in Diandra to diffuse the tension that threatened to destroy what had been an enjoyable evening.

No doubt. It doesn’t make it any less painful to hear. Fighting to keep her quivering voice steady, she rose and then pushed her chair back into place. If you’ll excuse me, I really have no desire to encourage any more of this.

John watched his wife disappear into the house, unmoved to the point of looking bemused by the awkward situation he had created.

Dad, what the hell was that? asked Ian after a few moments of uneasy silence.

John ran his fingers through his greying mane of dark blond hair. That was the manifestation of the tedium that eventually awaits you if you ever decide to get married.

Ian’s face blanched. I’ve been, remember?

Luckily, not long enough to be…

The realisation of where he had waded struck John Harrington too late to retract his ill-considered, half-pronounced sentence.

His son stared back, stunned by the unimaginable. Luckily?

Ian, I didn’t mean—

Well, that’s two of us offended in less than a minute, he said as he stood up. Congratulations, Dad. I’m sure that’s a record, even for you.

The television blared in the living room, and Ian concluded from the loud rock music he vaguely recognised that Victoria and Holden were still riveted to their video programs. In the kitchen, a kettle whistled and drew him into the room.

Nicky turned back when she realised she was being watched, and with simultaneous relief and disappointment that it was Ian and not her husband in the entranceway, her composed façade collapsed. Ian moved forward and wrapped his arms around her.

Holden stepped into the room to refill his Coke glass. Mum, what’s wrong? Receiving no response, he gave Ian a steely look that accused him of causing her distress. What’s happened?

Dad’s biting charm. He understood Ian’s angry words instantly. Get your drink, Holden—we’ll be okay here.

The boy brushed back his long red hair and kept his eyes on his older brother for a few doubtful seconds while he considered whether or not to obey the order. He adopted an air of defiance and ignored Ian.

Mum, are you sure? I’d be more than willing to go tell Dad to fuck off on your behalf.

Holden’s lip curled into a sneer, but his mother wriggled out of Ian’s hold to address her son. Just go back to what you were doing and mind your language in this house, do you hear me?

Her response made him smile with a tenderness only she could elicit in him, and he reached out to kiss her cheek. You know I’d do anything for you, Mum. I hate to see you cry, especially when it’s him doing it.

He refilled his glass on the counter, and Ian’s head raced into the past, remembering his own mother’s endless tears, many brought on by his father’s verbal venom.

They were once again alone in the kitchen. Does he do it a lot?

Nicky dried her eyes with a tea towel. We’re going through a terrible patch lately. Normally, things are fine between us…

I’m a very good listener if you need someone to talk to.

She shook her head. I can’t. It wouldn’t be loyal to your father.

We’re all family. There’s no other loyalty—we’re all on the same side, surely.

You’re his son, and I’m an outsider to your relationship with him. I won’t put you between us.

He’s being a bastard again, isn’t he? I can feel it and I can see it…

She straightened her shoulders back and stared down his resolve to find the root of their conflict. I won’t have you involved, Ian. I’m sorry he caused an unpleasant scene out there, and I’m grateful to you for the kindness you’ve shown me, but this is still a personal matter between the two of us and I expect you to respect that.

Her words struck him as cold, and Ian felt a stab of rejection. The realisation that he had come for a week-long stay and landed in the middle of such unhappiness depressed him, and he suddenly wished he could return home to begin rehearsals with his band for their upcoming tour.

Fine.

He tried to make his voice sound detached but the words caught in his throat as he left the kitchen to go up to the guest room.

Ian sat on the edge of the bed and let his face fall between his knees. He had never felt so estranged from his father’s family in all the years he had come to visit, and he let tears of frustration rain down his cheeks without making any effort to curb them.

The knock was very faint, and the door creaked open before he could deny the intruder permission to enter.

Ian? Nicky’s voice was tentative as she closed the door behind her and sought out his silhouette among the shadows twilight had brought into the room.

He was thankful that, distraught and exhausted as he was, the cover of dusk protected him. She eased herself onto the mattress beside him and reached for his reluctant hand.

I realised after you left the kitchen that you didn’t come into the house because of me.

She accepted his silence as an affirmative answer.

John said or did something that drove you inside, didn’t he? He nodded. I’m sorry, Ian. You didn’t ask for any of this, and I’m sorry I added to it.

He withdrew his hand and used it to wipe his eyes. How fragile he still was, Nicky thought, still so deeply affected by the words and actions of his father more than twenty years after she had first met him, and with the same shy, modest nature of his boyhood lodged in a grown man’s heart. He still hesitated in her presence, unsure of himself and of his role in her life, and his ambivalence sometimes made it awkward for her to reach out. Though she was barely six years older, she often felt a maternal tenderness towards him, he who had suffered so greatly the loss of his mother as a result of her attachment to his father.

I’ll be alright, he assured her.

I don’t doubt that. She dismissed his lame attempt to push her away and took his clammy hand into hers. Can you forgive us for treating you like a stranger instead of family, as you deserve?

She could see his moist eyes in the faint light, and read in them the relief of being understood. She knew why he had cried, why he was so desolate, and decided she needed to make amends for the insular behaviour of her family. She pulled him into her arms, and held him close.

Ian, I don’t want to tell you what’s happening between your father and me because I really believe we’re going to work through it. He drew back. If he feels the need to confide in you, that’s fine, because I trust you completely, but I’m really too private to discuss it with anyone but him. Can you understand that?

I can. He locked eyes with her. You know I only want you to be happy, don’t you?

She smiled. You’ve never stopped being a kind and decent person, and I really do care very deeply for you, Ian. She sensed his discomfort but continued, determined to finish her thought. I don’t always know what to do with that emotion, because you’re much too old to be like one of my children, and saying you’re like a brother just doesn’t seem right either…I value your opinions and treasure your affection.

She gave a nervous laugh. There, now I’ve said it, and we’re still sitting here and haven’t been struck by lightning. She brought a hand to his cheek. Thanks for trying to help, Ian.

You’re welcome.

She stood up, and he watched her leave the room with a strange sense of aching in his heart.

Diandra had considered darting after Ian, but knew his temperament well enough to remain in her seat. He preferred to shed his tears privately, and deserved for his wishes to be respected at such trying times. Her dark, almond-shaped eyes gazed instead at John with a mixture of bewilderment and reproach.

What on Earth possessed you to say such a thing?

Her question had been expected, and he had no satisfactory answer to give her. Sheer foolishness, apparently. Damn, I wish I could have that moment back.

She took a small sip of white wine while she measured her words. John, forgive me if I appear too forward, but you don’t seem quite yourself at the moment.

In what sense? His blue eyes were petulant and interested, unfazed by what she feared might have been too blunt an observation.

You’ve been hiding from your son, for one. That’s never been your style in all the time I’ve been around you both.

He took a deep breath. Have I really?

She nodded. He’s noticed it, John.

And it must have bothered him if he mentioned it to you.

He’s very intuitive, John; you know that. It took him less than a day to figure out there’s something wrong between you and Nicky.

Is that an established fact? He wore disdain on his face. Who pray-tell has confirmed that notion?

She stared him down and gave him a dismissive smile. You can stop posturing. You didn’t fool him, and you’re certainly not fooling me now.

He rolled his eyes. Is it really that obvious, then?

Well, it wasn’t, until you made that remark about love being a battlefield! It didn’t take much to put two and two together after that, Mister Benatar.

He grinned then stood up from the table with his hand extended forward for her to take. Come on, let’s get out of here!

And just where are we going?

To the laneway so I can have a fag or two in peace.

He opened the garden gate and led her up the walkway to the front of the house. The sun had nearly set and daylight had almost vanished below the trees. He held her hand as they advanced between the thick hedges of the curving path; they came to a long wooden bench by the shrubbery just before the laneway turned onto the main road.

He took his habitual seat. Here we are. This is where I sneak off to so that I can enjoy some guilt-free smoking time.

She smiled and sat next to him. The arrival of the night sky had cooled things somewhat, and Diandra lifted her bare legs onto the bench so that she could tuck them under her long, knitted skirt.

Why are you smoking again? The question was asked without the slightest hint of judgement. You worked so hard to quit.

He plugged the cigarette between his teeth. I never fully quit, you know, but you’re right—I had managed to get it down to almost nothing. I just started up last month, right around the time Nicky and I started to argue more than she’d like.

Diandra found his word choices revealing, though she wondered how much was bravado on his part.

He took a few satisfying drags and surprised her by offering her the cigarette. She shook her head and he scoffed at her timidity. Ah, go on, you know you want to!

She turned around to make sure they were alone. Well, maybe a small puff.

The lungful of smoke travelled down her throat so powerfully that it overwhelmed her. She coughed and returned the cigarette to him, protesting that it was making her far too light-headed.

But that’s the idea. How else do you expect me to take advantage to try and seduce you?

She said nothing as she watched him throw his finished stub out onto the dirt road.

You think I’m joking, don’t you? He challenged her with an intensity that made her suspect he was being more honest than she had bargained for.

Oh, I learned long ago not to be surprised by anything you say or do.

There was a hint of flirtation and fearlessness in her voice, for she perceived him to be a harmless old friend who, despite his bold statements and occasional outbursts, knew better than to risk harming his son or alienating him by crossing the line so clearly drawn between them.

She flinched as his mouth covered her lips. He parted them by force and plunged in with his tongue, flicking it against her teeth and the inside of her cheeks. One hand grasped her neck so that escape was impossible, though she had already decided not to resist his unwelcome but puzzling advances. As abruptly as the kiss had been initiated, he tore himself from her and settled back on the opposite end of the bench.

Well, you’ve certainly got my attention now, John.

She watched him with apprehension for a few seconds, waiting for an explanation. His eyes drifted downward to her full cleavage, and she could see that his hands seemed anxious to caress her bosom.

John, a kiss is likely forgivable, but if you do that, I’ll most likely have to slap some sense back into you.

He reached up, and her hand stung his cheek with such ferocity that his head snapped back.

I’m sorry, but you really should have listened to me.

She gingerly touched the flesh she had just struck. He winced but allowed her fingers to trail what undoubtedly would leave a mark by the time they returned to the house.

John, what has got into you? This is not like you at all.

He gave a self-deprecating laugh. On the contrary, my dear, this is completely like me! This is the man I’ve been most of my life, taking what I’ve wanted when I’ve wanted it. It’s the domestic, faithful husband I’ve become who’s an impostor!

John… She began to reprimand him and he held up his hand in protest.

No, don’t say it. Don’t tell me how I’ve changed. I couldn’t bear it.

She leaned forward and her legs fell so that her feet touched the soft earth. Taking his hand, she snuggled up to him without hesitation, curling her arm into his. John, tell me why you’re feeling like this. And stop giving me stories.

He exhaled, running his free hand through his thick, full head of hair. Where do I start?

She squeezed his captive arm in encouragement. Anywhere you wish.

Nicky’s grown restless in the last few months. She’s talked about wanting to return to work now that all the children are growing up and don’t need her attention as much. Mind you, I’ve never been against the idea, although she’s not entirely sure of what kind of career she wants to pursue.

Then what’s at issue?

Well, I’ve suggested to her that it would be much easier for both of us to have our working lives in order if the children went off to boarding school in the fall—well, maybe not Emma, she’s still only seven, but the boys, essentially.

She drew back and smiled. I can see why you’ve been arguing. She is still absolutely opposed to sending the children away, isn’t she?

He nodded. She won’t hear of it, nor will she consider the idea of hiring a nanny to help out.

A short laugh escaped Diandra’s lips before she could suppress it. Well, no, I wouldn’t imagine she would, given your history together.

John grinned. I didn’t say I disagreed with her reasoning, but she’s being rather alarmist about sending the boys away. I would think Holden would look forward to getting out from under our thumbs, and Spencer’s coming along…

But surely there’s more than that.

Oh, there’s much more. You know how I get when I feel myself pushed to the wall.

Actually, no, not directly. I have heard stories, though.

He smiled. Well, I have two reactions, primarily: I either push right back a little bit harder, or I stick my head in the sand.

I can’t quite picture you as an ostrich, she laughed.

He reached into his shirt pocket and opened his silver cigarette case. Well, that’s exactly what I became. I threw myself into my work—I went in earlier and stayed later and later, anything to avoid the tension at home.

Which only added to it, right?

He drew deeply from his freshly-lit cigarette and blew the smoke towards the sky. Naturally.

She watched his mannerisms, and it struck her that he still harboured a part of his secret under his calm exterior. There is also a woman involved, isn’t there?

He gazed at her with a certain admiration for her instincts. Yes, there is also that added complication.

The confirmation deflated her somewhat, for she genuinely liked Nicky and suddenly felt a surge of sympathy for her upon hearing the news.

Does Nicky know?

He shook his head. She may suspect, but she hasn’t asked me yet. I’d tell her straight out if she asked—I’ve never lied to her.

Diandra wanted to scoff at his comment, but maintained a neutral expression. Who is she? Another beautiful young model with stars in her eyes?

He flashed a crooked smile. Actually, no. She’s closer to my age than to yours.

He shared details about the identity of his secret mistress, and she nodded as he divulged that the other woman was a renowned jewellery designer whose London clientele was upscale like his.

That’s in fact how we got together. I’ve known her for years, but in a friendly, casual way much like I do others in the fashion business. I needed some accessories for our last runway show and one of my long-time customers recommended her. One thing led to another, as they say…

Aren’t you afraid to be found out?

He took another drag from his cigarette. She’s divorced and independent, so I’m not living with the fear that she’ll go off hysterically and confront Nicky. It’s a nice arrangement we have under the cover of a legitimate business partnership.

Diandra nodded that it did indeed seem ideal. It sounds nice and tidy, John, but you and I both know that Nicky is clever. What will you do when she does find out, and I do say when because we both know that day is coming?

He threw the remains of his butt on the ground, snuffing out the faint red light of its embers with his shoe. I’ll give her up then, I guess, and she knows it. We both realise it won’t last forever; perhaps that’s why it’s so enjoyable in the meantime.

John, why are you playing Russian roulette with your family? You love your children and your wife. Aren’t you the least bit concerned about the possibility that you could lose them forever with this reckless behaviour?

He sighed. I couldn’t stop myself in the beginning and eventually, I didn’t want to. Honestly, Di, I don’t know what’s missing in my life these days that’s made it so easy for me to look outside my marriage for fulfillment. He covered his face with his hands and she feared he would cry. I’ve had dreams, you know, where I’m old and dying, and I’m all alone. My wife has left me and my children won’t come see me and it’s all been my own fault…

She felt compelled to wrap her arms around him. She had never witnessed John in such turmoil, and she knew her words and gestures, however well meant, were inadequate in lessening his guilt. That’s your conscience speaking to you subconsciously, telling you to stop what you’re doing. See, even that’s a sign of the different man you’ve become.

He laughed and lifted his chin. He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand, and smiled in a grateful manner. Thank you, Di, for letting me get so much off my chest.

She gazed back at him with affection. You’re an old friend, John, and I do hope you’ll work all this out.

He accepted her words with a simple nod of the head. Di, I’m sorry about… He hesitated, unsure of how to refer to his advances.

She ran her fingers under the red mark her slap had left under his cheek. So am I, John. Let’s call it a draw, shall we?

Chapter Two

The terrace was still deserted, and Diandra suggested they bring in the glasses left on the table. As they made their way