When Aiden won the sports prize that day for his year, for cricket, I watched him swell with pride as he received it, knowing it hadn’t pleased Mum, because I had seen her unsmiling face. Nothing pleased Mum except stellar exam results. She over-eulogised academia because she had had very little academic opportunity herself. And sure enough, in the car on the way home for the holidays, she only congratulated me, not Aiden.

‘Do you know what the head said to me at the last cricket match?’ she asked him.

Aiden shrugged. ‘No. How would I know that?’

‘If you tried as hard at English and maths as you do at rubbing cricket balls you might have a career in front of you.’

‘That’s nice. Most encouraging.’

I looked across at Aiden, biting his lip and looking out the car window. Living in my academic shadow must have been hard.

But now I am an academic. And he is an entrepreneur. Far more successful than me. My mother should have always appreciated her younger son more. Are you right, Saffron? Is Aiden hitting on you to get back at me? Or is it worse than that. Is he truly in love with you?

Aiden Jackson, we have shared much in life, but I am not sharing my wife. My fist clenches. Be careful, Aiden. Still waters run deep.

44

Caprice

Saffron, you fly towards me like a hellcat, claws out.

‘Don’t ever lie to me again. Don’t ever come between me and Miles again,’ you shout. ‘Otherwise, I’ll … I’ll …’

You stammer. You struggle for words. Who would think you’re a top-flight lawyer?

‘Otherwise you’ll what?’ I taunt.

45

Saffron

I lie in bed, watching Miles sleeping next to me. Even though he is almost forty, his face in repose looks so young, so vulnerable; mouth slightly open, content in slumber. His thick brown hair spreads across the pillow. I lean across and gently, gently kiss his forehead. Every time I do that I imagine love is energy, and that I’m passing love from my head into his. His precious head, containing so many thoughts and ideas that I cherish.

By what contradiction of fate did a man like Miles burst from your loins, Caprice?

She brought up the man you love. A good man. She can’t be all bad, as she managed to do that.

But, Caprice, I haven’t found kindness in you yet. I think of you yesterday, taunting me, metallic eyes steady on mine. ‘Otherwise you’ll what?’ you asked.

Have you no conscience? No belief in social responsibility? I’ve tried to love you, to have a close relationship. Memories come flooding back.