For the first time in several years, he really wished he could talk to his mum about all this. She had never judged him, never told him he was bad or dirty or wrong. She hadn’t really understood him, but that was okay. She had listened to him talk, and hadn’t asked for anything in return except his company. But she was dead and Luce was alone, and he really, really needed a hug right now.

  ~~~~~~~~

  Apart from that one text, Steve hadn’t heard a word from Luce before Hannah was due back at Heathrow. Steve had written a couple of emails, one before the police announced they had a suspect in custody, and one after, but hadn’t had a reply to either. Whatever Luce was dealing with, wasn’t just the uncertainty over who was behind all this. The Mail had hinted Luce had set the fire to deflect attention from the criticism he’d received from the Mail itself, but other reports had been a lot more sympathetic, especially when Luce made the appeal for donations to be sent to charity and not to himself. A couple of artists even Steve had heard of, had very publicly condemned the arson attack and the vilification of Luce, and had donated large sums in his name to Teenhaven. So far as Steve was able to judge, there had been no negative effect on Luce’s reputation, but the damage to his business and his own confidence was another matter. He wished he could call Luce, but he’d been told to give him space. He knew from his marriage that this was one request a partner ignored at their peril.

  Hannah’s flight arrived at seven am, so he had to be up at six to meet her and bring her home. She was alone since her friend Emma had come back the week before. She spotted him and jumped and down with delight before running over as fast as she could—not very—with her luggage behind her. “What are you wearing?” he said. “Rainbow tights?”

  “Aren’t they cool?”

  “Hot, I’d have thought.” He kissed her cheek, then loaded her suitcase into the boot. “Good flight?”

  “It was all right. Glad to be off the plane. Thank you for meeting me. I could have caught the Tube, though.”

  He held the passenger door open for her. “I missed you. I wanted to see you sooner.”

  “You’re an old softie, Dad.”

  “My secret is out.”

  She chatted twenty miles to the dozen as he drove back, about the universities she’d visited, Anthony’s grades, her mum getting more research funding, and Emma being a real pain most of the trip. “I wish she’d never come along, Dad. She hated everything.”

  “Maybe she was homesick. Wasn’t this her first trip abroad? And she didn’t have her mum there like you did.”

  “It wasn’t that. She’s never really even been away from home before, and she just had no manners. She expected everyone to run around after her.”

  “Oh. Unfortunate, that.”

  “Yeah. How are you?”

  “I’m all right.”

  “Don’t sound it,” his clever daughter noted. “Did something happen with that lady you were seeing?”

  “Can we talk about it at home, love?”

  “Okay.” She sat back and watched him in the rear view mirror. He hadn’t wanted to broach the subject right now, but perhaps it was time he did.

  The five hour time difference between London and New York would make sleeping difficult for Hannah later, but at nine in the morning, she was as wide awake as he was. She dumped a load of clothes in the washing machine while Steve made her tea, and they sat together in the kitchen to drink it. “So, what’s happening between you and this woman, Dad?”

  “For a start, it’s not a woman, Hannah.”

  Her eyes widened. “You’re gay?”

  “Don’t be daft. Bisexual.”

  “Wow. Does Mum know?”

  “No. No reason for her to. We didn’t break up over it, you know that. I’ve never been unfaithful to her.”

  “Oh.” It was unusual for Hannah to look lost for words. “So, who is he?”

  Steve pulled out his phone and pulled up the picture of him with Luce before the auction. “Luce Sherwood.”

  She sat back in her chair, eyes wide. “You’re joking.”

  Her reaction was a surprise to say the least. “Not a bit of it. How do you know about him?”

  “Dad, he’s like this major fashion icon. He even appeared on a Paris catwalk once. He’s gorgeous, and he wears these beautiful skirts...did you not know about him before?”

  “Never heard of him. He was just this bloke I met.”

  “Wow. Wait till I tell Laura.”

  “Well, hang on. Things are a bit tricky at the moment and I don’t think he’d appreciate too much noise being made about me.” He explained about the auction and what had happened afterwards. “He’s a bit battered right now. I’m just giving him a little while to sort his head out.”

  “Sounds like you should be with him, helping.”

  “He doesn’t want it, love. And I don’t want you interfering or giving me advice, any more than you’d want it, okay? I’m telling you because I want you to meet him at some point, and we had been planning to take you with us off to Kent or Norfolk for the end of your holidays. He can’t come now, but we could go somewhere, if you’d like. I’ve got tomorrow and the next day off, and you can bring a friend if you want.”

  “That would be great. Can it just be the two of us though? I’ve been with people for weeks and I’d like a bit of peace before I start back at Uni.”

  “Of course. Got a preference?”

  “Kent? Up on the beach? We haven’t been there since you and Mum split up, and I love Herne Bay.”

  “I’ll see what I can do. So don’t unpack too much, will you? We could leave tonight, actually.”

  She got up so she could hug him from behind. “You’re the best, Dad. Luce is an idiot if he lets you get away.”

  “None of that. Go sort out your bags while I make some bookings.”

  He managed to find a cottage at Herne Bay and paid online. Hannah was still in her room, the washing still going. Steve had nothing to do except pack a couple of changes of clothes.

  He texted Luce. In Kent from tonight to Thursday night with Hannah. Wish you could be here. Still thinking of you. S.

  He didn’t expect a reply, but his phone pinged a minute later. Have a good time. Miss you, still working things out with shop and my head. Love Luce.

  So that was better than he’d hoped for. He did a quick news scan to see if there was anything happening over the fire, and found that two men were expected in court that morning on arson charges. That should speed up the insurance claim. On Luce’s Facebook page, he’d announced that five thousand pounds, in addition to his artist mates’ donation, had been raised for Teenhaven. Not bad. Steve hoped that would cheer up his lover a little too. Anything that meant Luce would want him back again, had to be good.

  ~~~~~~~~

  By Wednesday, Angela reported to Luce that the abusive comments and tweets had slowed down to a trickle—the usual level in other words. Chun had come in to Camden just the once after the long weekend, to see how the shop was getting on. Since it wasn’t, Luce could only take her to lunch and talk to her about being outed so horribly.

  She was still rattled. “I never thought my own brother would say such things about me in public. Mum and Dad are furious. He’s brought shame on our family, they say.”

  “He has, but more on himself.” Luce held her hands. “How’s Jin coping?”

  “He’s lovely. More than lovely.” She smiled suddenly. “He wants to marry me.”

  “That’s wonderful! When?”

  “Oh, not yet. But we’re engaged. No ring yet. I don’t want one. Too expensive. Mum and Dad know.”

  “I’m so happy for you, love. You deserve it, and he’s a good man.”

  “He really is. When he read what people were saying about him, he said that even if he was gay, what’s wrong with that? And he would love me whatever I had in my underpants.” She grinned and Luce laughed. “How is Steve?”

  “He’s fine. Taking his daughter to Kent this week. I didn’t go because of the mess here.” Luce didn’t mention they hadn’t talked since the previous Saturday.

  “Oh, what a shame. Did you tell him about me?”

  “Of course not. That’s for you, if you want to. He won’t have a problem, but it’s none of his business. No one’s but yours.”

  “I know. But maybe he should? If he’s attacked for being with you too, he might found out in the worst way.”

  Luce patted her hand. “Even if he did, he wouldn’t think less of you. He’s really not like that.”

  “He’s a good man too. You should marry him, Luce. He’s husband material.”

  “Yes, he is. We’re not there yet.” And won’t be if I can’t pull my head out of my arse. “So, you can take the time off until Monday. Unless you’re bored and want to work with Angela?”

  “I’d like to do that, if it would help. I want to do something, Luce. It’s not right, you handling it all on your own.”

  “I’ll give her a call after lunch, and let you know if she wants you this week. I think she will.”

  By the time she left, Chun was in a better mood, and less shaky than when she’d turned up. Luce would kick her bastard of a brother in the arse if he ever met him, little creep.

  He called Angela when he got home. She was delighted at the idea of Chun’s assistance, and wanted her at the warehouse the following morning, if possible. “Darling, I was going to call you anyway. Lady Wensdale wants to meet you and offer you a commission. One of her dearest friends was a winning bidder for one of your drawings the other night, and they were talking about the fire and you. She’s absolutely fascinated by your work and you personally.”

  “Isn’t she Andrew Wensdale’s wife? The Tory donor?”

  “Yes, that’s her.”

  “No thanks, Angela. I don’t need the money that badly.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Completely. Tell her sorry, but no way.”

  “All right, but I hope you aren’t going to be too picky. You do need the money, actually.”

  “Not enough to swallow all my principles.”

  She agreed to pass on the refusal. Luce texted Chun, glad to give her more good news. He thought about calling Steve, but he didn’t want to intrude on his Hannah time, and he felt bad for turning him down over the holiday, especially, as it turned out, he could have gone and it wouldn’t have made a bit of difference since work wouldn’t start until Monday. The only change for the shop had been the boarding up and the posters, which had had the desired effect. Angela had reported an uptick in invitations from potential buyers, and emails from a number of overseas customers interested in buying prints.

  Should he send a text? And say what? Not for the first time that week, he felt utterly tongue-tied over Steve. He had behaved so badly, he felt too ashamed to face him. And yet the longer it went without facing him, the more likely it was that Steve would say ‘sod it’ and give up on him.

  Then the perfect solution came to him. He drew a cartoon on a piece of good paper, folded it like a card, and put it in an envelope. Steve would have it when he returned from Kent. And then...they would have to talk.

  He walked to the post box and sent the envelope on its way, and went back to the flat to find his phone ringing as he unlocked the door. He snatched it up. “Luce, it’s Angela again. I’m sorry to press you, but Lady Wensdale is insistent. She says if you agree to meet her and accept the commission, she’ll donate a hundred thousand pounds to Teenhaven as well as paying your usual fee.”

  “Bloody hell. Do you believe her?”

  “I don’t see why not. Luce, what else are you doing at the moment?”

  Kicking myself in the head for being an idiot towards my man. “Nothing much. I was planning to sketch.”

  “Which you can do anytime, and if I know you, you’re not working because you’re still so stressed. So why not meet the old girl?”

  “Oh, all right. But I’m not changing my clothes for her.”

  She laughed. “All right. I’ll set it up and text you the address and time. Be nice, Luce. She’s over eighty, and she’s not her husband.”

  “Married to him, using his money. Same difference.”

  “Luce.”

  “Okay, I know. I’ll be my usual charming self.”

  “And this is supposed to reassure me, is it?”

  He smiled a little at that. “Of course. Angela, be especially nice to Chun, will you? She’s having a bit of a bad time but won’t want to talk about it.”

  “I’ll treat her like my own daughter.”

  “Good enough. Thank you, darling.”

  Luce really didn’t want to meet some rich old woman with more time on her hands than was good for her. But that was a lot of money for a charity that needed it, and if he could earn that by drawing her a picture, well, then he had to do it.

  ~~~~~~~~

  Ironically, he could have walked to Lady Wensdale’s house as it was only at the other end of Hampstead. He took a cab anyway and arrived precisely at ten thirty, as arranged. A maid—no, the housekeeper he realised, looking at her tail of activity—took him through to the conservatory where an elderly woman sat waiting.

  She stood up. “Mr Sherwood, it’s such a pleasure to meet you. I'm Yvette Wensdale. Would you like tea?”

  “Thank you, yes.”

  She waved at him to sit, and asked the woman who’d shown him in to bring them tea. Luce sat down and waited for her to speak. She was tiny, white-haired, straight-backed and with a compelling serenity about her. She laid the book she’d been reading down on the table beside her, and took her glasses off to look at him.

  “I’m not surprised you didn’t want to meet me, Mr Sherwood. Your politics are very different from ours.”

  “Ours?”

  “We both vote Conservative. Him for his own reasons, and I for mine. But is that all that matters to you?”

  “I have a reputation, Lady Wensdale, as well as personal views. It wouldn’t look very good for me to work for someone in your position.”

  “Me? I’m just a housewife, dear boy.”

  Luce smiled. “That’s funny, because Wikipedia tells me you used to be a leading biologist, Dr D’Charn.” She had gone by her maiden name in her career, most unusual for a woman of her generation.

  “And you were raised in a comfortable home by someone who was a prominent member of his local Tory association.”

  “If you know that much about me, you should understand that’s one reason I can’t ever vote Tory, ma’am.”

  “Please call me Yvette. ‘Ma’am’ reminds me I’m old.”

  “Then call me ‘Luce’. ‘Mr Sherwood’ was my stepfather.”

  “The man who threw you out of your home.”

  “That’s the one. And then I had to scrabble around on the streets to survive just like thousands of kids are doing right now, thanks to this government. Your husband’s donations helped them win the last election. It’s hard to forgive him for that.”

  The housekeeper came back with a tea trolley with a beautiful fine bone china tea set and a plate of tiny cakes. “Please pour for us, Cathy. Thank you.”

  Cathy did so, then left Luce and Yvette alone again. Luce stood and handed her a teacup.

  “Thank you. Please have a cake. Cathy is a wonderful cook.”

  Luce obeyed. “Mmmm. You’re right, they’re good.”

  “She’s a treasure. I couldn’t manage at all without her.”

  “I’m sure. Yvette, about this commission—”

  “In a moment, dear boy. I just wanted to mention that while I voted for this government, I don’t support all their policies. The changes to disability benefit and the pension were especially distasteful, and I don’t agree with what they’ve done to the young people either.”

  “But they’re in power thanks to people like you, so you have to take responsibility for what it does. Weasel words and tears now don’t change that.”

  She sipped her tea. “I think your manager would prefer you added ‘no offence’ to that sentence.”

  “Does Dr D’Charn want me to coddle her, or does Lady Wensdale insist on it?”

  “I can see my position in society doesn’t have any influence on you, Luce.”

  “Well, no. Did you really think it would?”

  “I hoped not. I want a picture of my great-grandchildren. That’s all. There are only two of them, my grandson’s twins.” She smiled. “You look like him, you know. My grandson. He’s a hippy too.”

  “We don’t have hippies any more, Yvette. Only hipsters. I’m not either.”

  “We would have called you a gender-bender back in the day.”

  “I suppose that’s more accurate. Yvette, the commission isn’t the problem. It’s your husband, I’m sorry.”

  She set her teacup down. “I knew it would be. What can I do to change your mind?”

  “I’d say ‘divorce him’ but that’s not fair of me, is it?”

  “At least you know that. Luce, my dear, my father and grandfather were both Tory MPs. It’s in my DNA.”

  “But not his. He’s a property magnate now, but he came from a trade union background. Labour made his family secure, and he turned around and spat on his family’s roots. No offence,” he added with deliberate irony.

  “None taken. It’s quite true. Perhaps not the spitting. I suppose to tell you he’s a loving father, an absolutely devoted grandfather and great-grandfather, and the kindest husband to me, makes no difference.”

  “Those are all good things, but I can’t ignore him helping the Tories do what they have done to this country and the weakest people in our society.”

  “Then it appears I can’t change your mind. I’m sorry.”

  Luce had prepared one option, but up until now, he wasn’t sure he could use it. Worth a try, he considered. “There is one way you could. Come down to a night shelter with me. See the people the Tories are hurting, and then tell your husband what you’ve seen. Just one night, for a few hours.”