At last they were gone. Tatiana wearily closed the front door behind them.
‘Well,’ she said sourly to Jason. ‘Thanks for nothing.’
Buoyed by George Wilkes’s kindness earlier, Jason took the rare step of defending himself.
‘Look, I’ve said I’m sorry and I am. But I was on the piano, and everyone in the pub loved it.’
‘The pub?’ Tati’s voice was rising. ‘You missed an important investor evening for our business because you were spending the afternoon in the pub?’
‘Important to whom?’ muttered Jason under his breath, instantly regretting it when he saw the white-lipped fury on Tatiana’s face.
‘Oh, I see. It’s like that, is it?’ she fumed.
‘No. Sorry. I didn’t mean …’
‘Do you know what time I got up this morning?’ Tati ranted on. ‘Five fucking o’clock. The same as I do every morning. I had a thousand fucking emails to deal with, then a full day in the office at school, then a site meeting in Clapham. I didn’t even eat lunch! Then back here to change and schmooze these people, our partners, who, by the way, we really, really need to keep sweet, especially now we’re expanding. And you can’t even be arsed to cut short your afternoon in the pub to help me.’
‘I said I’m sorry,’ Jason floundered.
‘Yeah. You say that a lot,’ Tati said bitterly. It wasn’t like her to let loose like this on Jason. But for whatever reason, tonight was the straw that had broken the camel’s back.
‘I’m tired, Jase,’ she said, with feeling. ‘I’m bone tired, all the time, and I’m tired of being tired, and of doing it all on my own.’
‘Then stop working all the time!’ Jason blurted. He was surprised to hear the words come out of his mouth, and even more surprised by the angry tone they came out in. ‘You know the irony is, you only started Hamilton Hall to try to prove something to my father.’
Tati groaned. ‘Not this again.’
‘Yes, this again. You wanted to show Brett that you could make money and be a success and beat him at his own game. In business, if not in the courtroom.’
‘That’s not true,’ said Tati, although they both knew it was.
‘But instead you’ve turned into his clone,’ Jason pressed on, ignoring her. ‘You haven’t beaten him. You’ve become him. You and my dad are two peas in a self-centred, workaholic pod.’
Tati drew back her hand and slapped Jason hard across the cheek. His skin was so pale, the livid red hand-print began to form immediately in an ugly tattoo of rage. For a few seconds the two of them stood in the hallway in stunned silence, staring at one another.
Then Tati gasped.
‘Oh my God. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.’
‘Me too,’ said Jason. Moving forward, he hugged her tightly.
‘Yes, but … I hit you,’ Tati said in disbelief.
‘I shouldn’t have provoked you,’ Jason comforted her and himself. He didn’t know what he would do if he didn’t have Tati. Despite all their issues – his issues, really – he loved her so much. ‘I didn’t mean those things.’
It was an awful moment, but it was real, and brutal, and in a strange way it was the closest they had been to each other in a long, long time. Unfortunately, the intimacy wasn’t to last.
The front door shot open, almost knocking Tati flying.
‘What the hell …?’
A heavy leather suitcase came hurtling through the door, landing with a thud on the marble floor. It was followed moments later by its owner, wearing a ripped denim miniskirt, Doc Marten boots and a T-shirt cheerfully emblazoned with the message ‘Kiss My Ass’. She was carrying a hospital-issued crutch, but she showed no signs of actually needing it.
Logan looked at Jason, her big, baleful eyes red and swollen from crying.
‘Can you pay my taxi?’ she sniffed. ‘It’s fifty-something pounds and I’ve only got, like … four.’
‘Fifty pounds?’ said Tati, shooting Jason a what’s she doing here? look. ‘Where have you come from, the moon?’
‘Sort of.’ Logan wiped away a tear. ‘Lewisham. A horrible train man threw me off for not having a ticket. Can you believe it? He wouldn’t even let me stay on till Victoria and pay at the end.’
Tatiana dashed outside to pay the cabbie while Jason took Logan into the kitchen and put the kettle on. ‘What are you doing here, Logie?’ he asked her, not unkindly. ‘Have you had another fight with Dad?’
‘It’s more than a fight.’ She shook her head and the tears started to flow in earnest. ‘He hates me and I don’t blame him. I hate myself.’
‘Dad doesn’t hate you,’ said Jason, laying a comforting hand on his sister’s heaving shoulders. ‘He’s angry, that’s all. It’ll pass.’