Second Shot

‘And how did you meet Simone?”

“She was recommended by a friend of the family.” It was Simone herself who answered, shooting me a quick smile as she did so.

“I thought you didn’t have any family-apart from the fact that you now have us, of course,” Rosalind said, raising a small smile of her own in the direction of her husband, who answered it cheerfully enough.

“Yes, and it’s wonderful to suddenly discover I have two of you where I only ever expected-dreamed, really-to find one,” Simone said. She paused, picking her next words with care. “And I can’t wait until Greg and I have the tests done and we can make it all official.”

Simone delivered this news with such artful casualness, beaming at the pair of them and carrying on eating, apparently oblivious to the fact that they’d both frozen in their chairs.

“Tests?” Rosalind echoed.

“DNA,” Simone said. “I’m assuming we can get them done locally, can we?”

I scanned their faces quickly, suppressing a cheer and the desire to jump up and hug Simone for her sudden display of levelheadedness. Lucas and his wife exchanged glances, too fast for me to catch the message that flashed between them.

“Surely there’s no need to go that far, is there?” Rosalind said with a breathless kind of a laugh. “After everything Greg’s told you …?”

“Oh, it’s a formality, of course,” Simone said breezily. “I mean, I’m absolutely convinced, but my solicitor will skin me if I don’t come back with undisputed proof-especially when there’s Ella to consider.”

“Yes, but-”

That was as far as Rosalind got when, suddenly, the doorbell rang.

Rosalind’s eyes flew to her husband’s, startled. Lucas almost ducked sideways slightly in his seat, as if to hide. The dining area wasn’t quite in direct line of sight to the glazed front door, but it was pretty close.

“I’ll go,” he said, but the smile he gave Rosalind was a strained one. He wiped his mouth on his napkin and dropped it onto the table as he got to his feet.

Unconsciously, we listened to his footsteps on the polished wooden floor of the hallway, could imagine the blast of cold air washing towards us as he opened the front door, heard the murmur of voices. Only Ella seemed unconcerned-both by the interruption and the turn the conversation had taken before it. She was totally absorbed with making a sand castle of sorts out of her second helping of mashed potato and trying to create a moat for the gravy round the outside of it.

The voices continued by the front door. Lucas and another man’s, deeper and somewhat colder for it. I couldn’t make out the words but thought I detected a note of strain in Lucas’s. His tone went sharp, then stopped abruptly, like it had snapped off.

I glanced at Rosalind and found her apparently placid expression belied by the fact that she was gripping her fork so tightly her knuckles had turned white. I pushed my chair back slightly from the table and found myself automatically measuring the distance between us and the nearest doorway to the outside, which was behind where Ella and Simone were sitting. A pair of double doors led out onto part of the external decking that seemed to surround the house on three sides, with steps down into the woods.

There was another door leading to a screened porch by the fireplace in the great room, which was behind me and over to my left. I hadn’t initially liked the number of different access points to the house, but now I was glad of the options they provided.

Lucas came back into view at the end of the hallway with another man beside him. There was a study off to the right, and as they passed it Lucas tried to shepherd the visitor into it, saying firmly “Come into the den and we can talk,” but the man kept walking towards us, as though Lucas hadn’t spoken, almost brushing straight past Lucas’s outstretched arm. As they reached the dining area, Rosalind pushed back her chair and stood, defensive, allowing the man to kiss her pale cheek. An act of submission rather than affection.

The man was of a similar age to Lucas himself, perhaps a little older-into his early sixties-but this was clearly no pensioner. He had iron gray hair, cut short enough to see his scalp through it, and there was an altogether harder edge to him.

“Rosalind, my dear,” he said smoothly as he advanced. He had a craggy face with a strong nose and a full-lipped mouth, and his eyes were pale, a faded green or gray. “A pleasure, as always.” His eyes skimmed over the three of us as he spoke, and he made a convincingly rueful face. “My timing is impeccable, I see.”

“You know you’re always welcome, Felix. Why don’t you join us?” Rosalind said, contriving to keep her voice pleasant, even though her face was frigid.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, but making no moves to leave. His gaze swung to Lucas. “I saw your car was out front, but I didn’t realize you had people visiting.”

“Yes,” Lucas said bluntly