But Rich didn’t have such positive role models. Sure, his parents are still married, but they barely tolerate each other, only putting on a show of affection in front of other people.
An hour later, the wine bottles are empty, and we’ve made a big dent in the food. Itwastoo much, so Zorbs is getting a treat tonight, as well as getting a super deluxe wash of his litter tray. Now we’re having the usual discussion about who wants what kind of coffee.
I’ve got my back to the door, but I notice a change in atmosphere as everyone’s eyes move in the same direction.
Dad smiles and exclaims, ‘It’s Mark Antony!’
He’s the only one who pronounces his full name the Greek way.
When I see him, it’s obvious why people are staring: Mark’s in scrubs. It’s one thing knowing grown-up Mark is a surgeon, but to see him dressed in hospital blues doesn’t quite compute.
Mark acknowledges the stares. ‘There’s no emergency, folks, I’m off-duty. Unless anyone’s aortic valve needs repairing.’
There are a few reassured laughs, and a lady behind me mutters, ‘He can repair my valveanyday.’
‘We saved you some food,’ says Dad proudly.
‘Thank you, but you shouldn’t have.’
‘Nonsense.’ Dad waves at the waiter to bring another plate. ‘You’re always welcome at our table.’
Mum frowns briefly, then quickly rearranges her face back into a smile.
My parents have always had different opinions about Mark. Mum saw him as someone who might turn out just like his vicious father – their physical likeness was unmistakable – butDad believed that, where it counted, Mark was nothing like Giovanni.
They had a terrifying row about it one night, around the time Giovanni ran off with one of his many mistresses. I was about ten, and it was the night before Dad went to visit his brother in Cyprus who was having his gall bladder removed. He was away a week and Mum refused to ring him the whole time.
Mark sits in the seat opposite me, and I angle myself towards Pen so he’s not in my eye line, but not before I notice his hair’s wet. Is it raining?
‘Nice threads, Marky,’ Yan sniggers from the other end of the table.
‘Yeah, sorry about that but I didn’t have a choice.’
‘Are you dressed like that in case you get called back suddenly?’ asks Dad.
Mark shakes his head. ‘As I was leaving, a colleague asked for help with a patient with a dislocated shoulder. This guy was so drunk he couldn’t sit up straight. We got the joint back in place and, in a unique show of gratitude, he threw up all over me.’
The table laughs, and he cocks an eyebrow. ‘Twenty minutes in the shower and I still smell of Special Brew.’
Everyone laughs again, but the image of Mark showering bleeds into the memory of him topless and looming over me in Yan’s bathroom. I take a sip of iced water to cool myself.
Mark asks his mum how she’s getting on with some new medication and if she’s having any side effects. But she answers in short sentences – she obviously doesn’t want to talk about it at the dinner table.
‘Did the drunk man hit you as well?’ she asks suddenly.
‘No, why do you ask?’
‘Then what happened to your nose, Marko?’
I freeze, and so does he.
I allow myself to look properly at his face. His nose seems exactly the same to me, but I guess mums have super senses.
‘Oh, it’s nothing.’ He glances at me. ‘Someone knocked into me when I was playing football. Someone severely lacking in co-ordination.’
He means it as a dig at me. ‘Maybe you need to work on your spatial awareness,’ I counter.
‘My spatial awareness is just fine.’
