She blushed. Something she couldn’t control, James noticed, which excited him even further, wondering if her whole body blushed. At the very least, it was a sign of vulnerability to him, and nothing was going to stop him from exploiting that vulnerability.
His mother coughed. ‘This conversation…’
‘Is necessary.’ He flicked her a derisive look. ‘When you floated out on the balcony, Lucy thought I was playing musical beds.’
‘Me?’ She laughed, reached out and patted Lucy’s arm indulgently. ‘My dear! What a compliment, taking me for one of James’ women.’
‘He does tend to run through them rather quickly,’ came the acerbic comment.
‘Perhaps because they fawn on him,’ his mother remarked with knowing amusement. ‘I can see you don’t. Very sensible.’
‘Well, I guess you have the best standpoint to judge these things, Mrs Hancock,’ She shot him a look that was loaded with dubious thoughts as she added, ‘having lived with James so long.’
He tensed, realising he hadn’t won anything yet. Lucy’s guard remained up and this moving straight into the question of his sharing a home with his mother was a clear signal her mind was still assessing the situation. Her hand-bag was in easy stepping distance, hanging on the coat-rack, and although he’d put a glass in her hand, that could be quickly disposed of.
‘Shall we take our drinks out to the verandah?’ he swiftly suggested, wanting to put distance between her and her car-keys.
‘Good idea! Fresh air to blow thoughts of the plague away,’ his mother approved, collecting Lucy as she moved forward. ‘And please call me Zoe, dear. Hancock is actually my maiden name. I didn’t marry James’ father, you know.’
James winced at his mother’s garrulous habit of letting everyone know he was a bastard. Supposedly it reflected well on her for shouldering the task of bringing him up alone—the brave single mother—but it always made him feel belittled, having been fathered by a man who hadn’t cared enough to stick around.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know,’ Lucy muttered, sounding embarrassed by the revelation.
‘It simply wouldn’t have worked,’ his mother burbled on. ‘A brief fire in our lives, not a lasting passion. I didn’t marry at all until I met my wonderful Hugh, and James was fifteen by then.’
She was off and running and, James knew from experience, impossible to stop with a new audience to lap up the more colourful details of their lives.
‘Should I know your Hugh?’ Lucy asked, being drawn in by the excessive story-telling.
‘Really, James,’ his mother huffed. ‘Haven’t you told Lucy anything about your life?’
‘I’m sure you’ll make up the deficit,’ he replied, ushering them out to the verandah. At least his mother was adept at carrying guests with her, which was something to be grateful for. He was acutely aware of how elusive Lucy could be.
‘Hugh…Hugh Greenaway…was a marvellous father to James,’ his mother rattled on. ‘Just what he needed after years of being dragged around with a bunch of actors, living in temporary digs and having to fit in with the mad hours we worked. It’s amazing he wasn’t taken away by social workers, now that I think about it.’
‘I had lots of aunties and uncles, remember?’ James put in dryly, trying to correct any impression of being an object of pity.
He wouldn’t swap his childhood for any other. As an education in life and people, it had covered a very broad spectrum. Yet there had been many times he’d envied other boys their fathers and the activities they shared with them. If he’d had a father like Hugh, right from the beginning…
‘But it was a rackety existence, darling,’ his mother insisted. ‘Always changing schools.’
That wasn’t good, James silently agreed, but he’d learnt to go with the flow.
‘Sit here, Lucy.’
She waved to the cane armchair adjacent to the fan-backed one she always favoured herself—the queen taking her throne, usually surrounded by courtiers. There was only Lucy to entertain this evening, and James watched them sit down together, confident his mother would hold her audience captive for a while.
‘I’ll get some nibbles,’ he said and back-tracked to the kitchen, relieved to have Lucy settled and within easy reaching distance.
She could make what she liked of what his mother told her. It was irrelevant to him…as long as she stayed.
Lucy’s mind was in a whirl, knocked for a loop by the idea that James had fancied her for some time, even before the charity ball! Was it true? And was Buffy—every other woman—completely out of the picture now? Did he really think she was the sexiest female he’d ever met? It felt…too much to believe.
On top of that she was now sitting here with his mother, which was as unexpected as everything else, and she was being fed information so fast she could barely take it in. With James having taken himself back to the kitchen, relieving her of the distraction of his overpowering presence, she tried to recollect herself enough to focus on Zoe Hancock.
The older woman had glorious hair, thick with curls and waves, its rich colour undoubtedly provided by a hairdresser since she had to be in her fifties, but her pale skin suggested she had once been a natural redhead. Her face was relatively unlined, perhaps due to cosmetic surgery, yet it radiated a vivid personality through the fascinating mobility of her mouth and expressive blue eyes. James had the same eyes but Lucy could see no other similarity to his mother.
His father—the brief fire in Zoe Hancock’s life—must have been in the tall, dark and handsome mould. Lucy wondered if he knew he’d fathered a son. How brief was brief? From what she’d been told so far, he’d played no part in James’ upbringing. She wondered if James felt as deprived as she had by her father’s desertion.
‘This was Hugh’s place. I think I fell in love with it before I fell in love with him,’ Zoe remarked, gazing at the view down the harbour to the great coat-hanger bridge that spanned it. She heaved a sigh and flashed a wry smile at Lucy. ‘He left it to us when he died, but I’m away more than I’m home these days. It’s lucky James is always here to look after everything.’
‘I imagine he feels lucky to have the pleasure of it.’
She nodded. ‘It’s the only real home he’s ever known. God knows where he might have ended up without Hugh settling him into a proper education and guiding him through law.’