Bound by Ivy by S. Quinn Page A

tend to talk to their children about their dating affairs. Would you like me to play matchmaker? I know a friend of Valerie’s who lost his wife a few years ago. A lovely fellow. Plays the violin. Likes the theatre. What do you say, shall we match them up?’
    ‘I’d say we ’d be interfering in Denise’s life,’ says Marc.
    ‘Shame,’ says Peter, draining his sherry glass. ‘I do like a bit of interfering from time to time.’ He gives Marc a wicked grin.
    ‘Denise will find someone when she’s ready,’ says Marc. ‘Until then, she seems perfectly happy. Or at least if not happy, then content.’ Marc finishes up his sherry, and I drink the last of mine too.
    ‘Nothing wrong with content,’ says Peter.
    Marc places his empty glass by the cash register and shakes Peter’s hand. ‘It’s been great to see you again. We should catch up soon.’
    ‘Always a pleasure,’ says Peter, shaking Marc’s hand heartily.
    ‘Have a wonderful Christmas.’
    Peter looks bewildered. ‘Have a wonderful Christmas? What have you done to him Sophia? He usually pretends Christmas doesn’t exist. Does everything he can to avoid talking about it.’
    ‘I didn’t know that .’ I throw Marc a playful smile.
    ‘There are still plenty of things you don’t know about me Miss Rose .’

25
    When we leave the shop, Marc holds Sammy’s gift-wrapped toy in one hand, and pulls the door closed with the other. I shiver as the cold winter wind hits me, and Marc puts an arm around my shoulder and pulls me close.
    ‘Don’t you feel the cold?’ I whisper, warming myself against his chest.
    ‘At times.’
    ‘W hy don’t you ever wear a coat?’
    ‘ Because I like the sting of cold weather.’
    ‘Why?’ I rub my fingers together to keep away the chill.
    ‘I had it stolen from me. The cold. When I was a child. I was taken to LA in the baking sun, and missed year after year of ice and snow in England. So now I want to feel the cold. Every bit of it. As much as I can.’
    ‘It must have been awful for you,’ I say, a s Marc steers me along the road and back onto the main square. ‘To leave your old life behind like that. When you were so young.’
    Marc shrugs. ‘When you’re young, you accept what’s happening because it feels normal. But I was messed up for a long time. A long, long time. I wasn’t like you, taking care of everyone.’
    ‘Oh I don’t know.’ I smile at Marc. ‘You took care of your si ster. And Denise. Maybe you’re not such a big bad wolf after all.’
    ‘ No, that’s exactly what I am. A big bad wolf. And if you’re not careful, Sophia Rose, you’ll get bitten.’
    ‘I’m not afra id of you,’ I say, meeting his eyes, a half smile on my lips.
    ‘P erhaps you should be.’
    ‘Oh? And why is that?’
    ‘Because I’m still a controlling monster at heart. Despite the fact that I’m learning to let go. My way of coping when times are hard is still to take charge and be in control. When it comes to your safety, I find it hard to ease off.’
    We walk across the squa re.
    ‘Marc? I wish you’d tell me what’s going on. With all the extra security and me not being allowed in your townhouse right now.’
    ‘Right now there’s nothing to tell. And there may never be anything to tell.’
    ‘And Getty’s still in custody?’
    ‘Yes . And he will be for the foreseeable future.’
    We’re not on the square anymore, but heading down a busy road. Marc swerves me down a s ide street, where I see a bustling open-air market. The smell of fresh bread, coffee and Christmas puddings fills the air.
    ‘Are we on the right track, Mr Blackwell?’ I say with a smile. ‘This is a food market.’
    ‘Exactly right. They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. Well. I thought I could warm your father to me by filling his house with food. And of course, I know you love cooking. So you might like to pick out some ingredients for Christmas dinner.’
    I snuggle against his suit jacket.