Images Of Love. Anne Mather
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In London?’
‘I—in Reading, actually,’ she lied, saying the name of the first town that came into her head. ‘It was just a small place. Not a proper art gallery really, a sort of—adjunct to the—to the public library.’
Robert frowned. ‘Really?’
She nodded. ‘But—but I gave that up a long time ago. I work for an insurance company now, in Holborn. Do you know Holborn, Mr Lang?’
‘Robert,’ he amended dryly, and then shrugged. ‘I used to know London very well. I used to live there. But since my accident …’
‘… you’ve lived here,’ Tobie finished for him eager to change the subject. ‘You’re very lucky really, being able to escape to such an island paradise.’
‘Is that how you see it?’ Robert enquired with a grimace. ‘It’s a lonely life, Tobie. Lonely, and—unfulfilled.’
Tobie bent her head, feeling the heat of the sun burning her shoulders. ‘I should have thought your work was—fulfilling,’ she commented, feeling obliged to say something, as he made a sound of exasperation.
‘I’m sure my mother thinks so, too,’ he essayed wryly, reaching for the almost empty bottle of champagne, residing in the melted ice cubes. ‘Will you join me?’ and when she shook her head, he poured the remainder into his glass and surveyed it with a crooked smile. ‘She doesn’t understand, I was a man first and painter second. I think she expects those roles to be reversed.’
Tobie darted a look up at him. ‘And they’re not?’ she asked involuntarily, almost immediately realising the antagonism she had provoked.
‘What do you think that crash did to me, Tobie?’ he demanded harshly. ‘It didn’t paralyse my feelings—my emotions! They still function as they always did.’
‘I—I’m sorry.’ Tobie was horrified at her blunder. ‘I didn’t—I didn’t mean—’
The sound of footsteps ringing across the stone tiles stilled her fumbling apology, and she sat there in mortified silence as Mark threw his towel down on to a lounger and stretched with evident self-satisfaction.
‘Magic,’ he remarked, half to himself, and then turned to his half-brother and Tobie. ‘So—how goes it? You two seemed deep in conversation when I came out of the house. What have you been telling her about me, Rob? Do I detect a certain aloofness in the air?’
‘Don’t be silly, Mark.’
Tobie got hastily to her feet, and as she did so Robert said indolently: ‘Don’t be so conceited, little brother. Your name hasn’t even been mentioned.’
‘No?’ Mark pretended to be put out. ‘Hey, Tobie, what’s been going on? Has he been taking liberties behind my back?’
‘I—no, of course not.’ Tobie found she couldn’t joke about it, and it was left to Robert to make light of their conversation.
‘We’ve been discussing my work, actually,’ he admitted at last. ‘You know what an egoist I am. I can’t resist extolling my talents to a willing listener.’
Mark grimaced. ‘I’ll believe you,’ he conceded good-naturedly. ‘But only because I know it’s true.’ He turned to Tobie. ‘So come on. I’ll race you round the pool, and if you win I’ll let you duck me, so long as I’m given the same privilege.’
Tobie hesitated. ‘It’s nearly lunchtime,’ she demurred, in no mood to act the fool with him, but Mark was adamant.
‘Lunch can wait,’ he said, advancing on her with menacing steps. ‘Now do you go quietly, or do I have to use force?’
Tobie backed away from him helplessly, realising she had to go through with this. But as she dropped her skirt and turned to dive smoothly into the water, it was Robert’s expression she remembered.
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