Anne Mather - Images Of Love

‘Tobie!’ He had observed her approach and now hailed her with friendly enthusiasm. ‘Come and join me. Mark’s gone to get changed, but I don’t suppose he’ll be long.’

‘No—no. I—I saw him.’ Tobie automatically quickened her step and came to stand beside him. ‘I—er—isn’t this a marvellous view?’ She gestured towards the harbour and the wide expanse of ocean beyond. ‘I should think you never get tired of looking at it.’

‘You’d be surprised,’ he remarked dryly, glancing up at her with wry humour. ‘When it’s the only view you see, it can become a little—monotonous.’

‘Oh, I —’ Tobie flushed. ‘I didn’t mean—that is—I didn’t intend to imply—’

‘I know.’ His smile was heartbreakingly familiar. ‘So—won’t you sit down? Or must I get a crick in my neck looking up at you?’

‘I’m sorry.’ Tobie bumped down jerkily on to the low lounger beside him. ‘I didn’t think.’ Her fingers closed over the rim of the cushion she was sitting on. ‘Er—it’s a beautiful day, isn’t it? It was raining when we left London.’

‘Was it?’ Now his eyes were slightly above hers. ‘Yes, that’s one thing you can be sure of here. We usually have beautiful days.’

She sensed the irony in his tones and realized she was not making a good job of this. He probably thought she was one of those useless females, without a thought in their heads outside of the latest fashions and make-up, and certainly she had not displayed any particular intelligence in their conversation so far.

‘Do—er—do you work indoors, Mr Lang?’ she ventured now, choosing the subject least likely to prove controversial, and he inclined his head.

‘In a manner of speaking,’ he agreed, half turning in his seat to indicate a path that led around the side of the building. ‘I have a studio that’s attached to the house, but only accessible from the outside, if you know what I mean. It’s along there, if you’re interested. And the name is Robert, Tobie. I can’t have my future sister-in-law calling me Mr Lang.’

Tobie’s colour deepened again. ‘Very well,’ she murmured awkwardly. ‘I—are you working at the moment?’

‘At this moment?’ he asked provokingly, the dark eyes full of amusement, and Tobie sighed.

‘You know what I mean,’ she exclaimed, speaking without thinking for the first time. ‘I mean, have you a commission at present? I don’t suppose there’s much scope for portrait painting here.’

‘You sound very knowledgeable,’ he remarked, his dark eyes narrowing. ‘Do you know much about painting, Tobie? And don’t tell me again that you know what you like.’

This was deeper water, and Tobie immediately sought for the shallows. ‘I—I used to work in an art gallery once,’ she said, and instantly regretted the admission. Mark didn’t even know that, and by confessing such a thing to Robert she was stepping dangerously near disaster.

‘An art gallery,’ he murmured now, his eyes watching her closely. ‘What art gallery? Where? 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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