But he was no longer smiling.
Or at least not for her, she thought, her heart contracting as he withdrew his hand and switched his gaze to Diane, his mouth curving upwards.
‘Sorry I’m late, Dee. My head’s still back in LA. With my razor.’
He ran his hand over his stubbled jawline, smiling crookedly, and for a moment Nia couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. All she wanted to do was reach out and touch his face, stroke it like she’d used to.
He had been like a cat that way, lying on the sofa with his head in her lap, hitching his chin to push up against her hand.
Her head was spinning, her heart crumbling, but if Diane sensed the flickering undercurrent of hostility in the room she gave no sign of it.
‘Thank you for coming, darling boy.’ She smiled up at him. ‘I know this isn’t your favourite night of the year so I really appreciate it, and Tom does too.’
‘It’s the least I can do.’ Farlan smiled back at her. ‘You were there for me when I needed you. I was pretty hard work back then, but you never pushed me away.’
Nia felt her whole body tense as his eyes locked with hers.
‘Most people don’t have your heart, Dee. They don’t have the courage to trust their own judgement.’
His face was blank of expression, his voice too, but his eyes were the same dark forbidding green as the pine forests that edged the estate.
‘Well, you’ve been there for us too.’ She glanced at Nia. ‘It’s thanks to Farlan we’re standing here right now—isn’t it, Tom?’
Clapping his hand on Farlan’s shoulder, Tom nodded. ‘We’ve been talking about it for years, but something always got in the way. Would have been the same this time only he got mad. Told us we needed to make a decision and stick to it. That’s how he got himself all those awards. It’s not just about having a vision. My boy doesn’t falter.’ He winked at Nia. ‘I bet you knew he was going to go all the way to the top.’
Farlan’s gaze scraped against her skin like sandpaper.
‘Yes, I mean… I didn’t—’ she began, but Farlan interrupted her.
‘I’m not sure I made that big an impact on Lady Antonia. I was just a farm boy—a stupid, naive kid. Of course I’ve grown up a lot since then.’
His pointed use of her title made swallowing difficult. ‘I remember you perfectly,’ she said quietly.
It was like drowning. She could see every single moment of her life with him playing out on fast forward in front of her eyes.
‘When we met. How we met. You were making a film about the Fringe,’ she said.
He smiled at her now, but it was a smile that stopped at his mouth. There was no corresponding warmth in his eyes. It was just a consequence of muscles moving beneath the skin.
‘Not about the shows. It was the performers that interested me.’
His eyes met hers, the green irises steady and implacable.
‘All the sacrifices they made. I wanted to document that commitment. Show people what they could achieve if they believed in themselves and others.’
I did believe in you, she wanted to say.
But before she had a chance to open her mouth, Diane tapped Tom on the arm.
‘We need to call Isla and Jack.’ She turned to Nia. ‘We usually have a Burns Night supper with our Scottish friends back home, and we said we’d call them and show them how it’s done in the old country.’
Still flustered from her showdown with Farlan, Nia stared at her blankly. ‘Show them…?’
Pulling herself together, she realised what Diane was asking.
‘You might have to go to the kitchen to make a video call. The internet never really works in this part of the house—’
‘The kitchen?’ Diane hesitated. ‘Oh, we don’t want to leave you two—’