‘You know, you really need to be in therapy,’ Tati responded. ‘You’re not well.’
Brett laughed. The black eyes were turned on Tati in their full intensity now. She felt her stomach flip over unpleasantly and wished, not for the first time, that Brett Cranley didn’t have such an uncanny ability to toss her emotions like a pancake. He was a complicated man, more complicated than he appeared on the surface or liked to admit. But he was also an unreconstructed bastard, who would stop at nothing to deny her her inheritance. With an effort, she managed to keep her own gaze steady.
‘I’m just being honest,’ said Brett. ‘You should play to your strengths.’
‘And what are my strengths, Mr Cranley? In your warped opinion?’
Standing up, Brett reached across the desk, and ran one finger slowly across Tatiana’s cheek. Gently lifting a single strand of hair that had fallen across her face, he placed it back behind her ear. It was a small gesture, but it was slow and intimate and unbearably erotic. It took all of Tatiana’s willpower not to gasp out loud.
‘One of these days, Tatiana,’ Brett whispered, ‘I’ll show you exactly what your strengths are.’
Outside in the corridor, Max Bingley was still chatting to Angela Cranley, trying to talk her into sponsoring the school’s upcoming Gala, when Tati burst out of the classroom and practically knocked them both flying.
‘What on earth’s the matter, Tatiana?’ Max said reprovingly.
‘Nothing,’ said a thin-lipped Tati, exchanging only the briefest of glances with Angela, who could see at once what had happened. Brett must have picked a fight with her. Pushed things too far, as usual. ‘I need to get back to Year Two, that’s all. I promised Sarah I wouldn’t be long.’
Max watched Tati dash off, frowning slightly before returning his attention to Angela. ‘So you’ll be gone for the whole summer, then?’ he said. ‘That’s a shame.’
‘It is,’ Angela sighed in agreement. ‘Brett adores St Tropez, but to be honest I can take it or leave it. All those beautiful people, showing off. The smell of effort’s enough to put you quite off your Bellini.’ She laughed, then blushed, wondering if perhaps that was a crass thing to say to man like Max Bingley, who almost certainly holidayed in Cornwall and drank nothing more exotic than the local pale ale. ‘I hope you don’t think me a show-off,’ she began, awkwardly. ‘I didn’t mean—’
‘Nothing could be further from my mind,’ Max assured her.
‘I know our life probably sounds awfully glamorous. But the truth is, I’m afraid I’m old before my time. I can’t bear the thought of leaving my garden for six whole weeks. Sad, isn’t it?’
‘Not at all,’ said Max. Although he did wonder how this sweet, private woman had ever fallen for a shallow, party-loving shark like Brett Cranley. It was the oddest pairing he’d seen in many years.
‘Will Furlings be empty then, over the break?’ he asked Angela.
‘No. Jason will be there. He has to work. None of Cranley Estates’ junior staff get more than two weeks’ holiday allowance in their first year. It wouldn’t be fair to change the rules for Jase. That’s what Brett says, anyway.’
‘He’s quite right,’ said Max. ‘Well, we shall miss you. I shall miss you. But you can rest assured I’ll be roping you into Gala committee meetings the moment you return in September.’
Just then Brett emerged from the classroom looking highly pleased with himself, and as relaxed as Tati had seemed stressed. He snaked a possessive arm around Angela’s waist.
‘What’s this about September?’
‘I was just saying I look forward to seeing you both again after the summer,’ said Max Bingley. ‘Your wife tells me you’re off to the South of France for the duration.’
‘That’s right. Can’t wait,’ Brett grinned. ‘My yacht, the Lady A, should be in St Tropez by this weekend.’
Pompous arse, thought Max. And why not ‘our’ yacht?
Aloud he said, ‘How lovely. Well, I’d better get on. Lots of parents to see and all that.’
As Max walked off down the corridor, Brett turned to Angela.
‘I don’t like that guy,’ he said abruptly. ‘He’s such a stiff.’
‘Oh, he’s all right,’ said Angela. ‘He’s kind.’
‘Hmmm.’ Brett sounded unconvinced. ‘He was all over you like a rash.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ Angela laughed, taking Brett’s arm. ‘And don’t try to distract me either. What happened in there after I left? With Tatiana?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘What did you say to upset her? She came out looking as if someone had squirted lemon juice in her eyes. You promised you wouldn’t cause trouble today, remember?’