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had been, would you have minded?’
    ‘No, of course not . . . Yes, a bit,’ Anna replied, avoiding his gaze.
    ‘I wouldn’t have asked you out if I’d been seeing someone else,’ he said. ‘You’re not with anyone, are you?’
    Anna shook her head.
    ‘Great.’ He eyed her anxiously. ‘I guess you think I’m a bit of a saddo, wanting to spend time with a slightly eccentric sixty-three-year-old, when I could have seen you
earlier, but she’s hardly ever in England and . . .’
    ‘It’s OK, you don’t have to explain,’ Anna interrupted, not caring about the details now she knew who Ruth was.
    ‘I want to,’ Felix assured her earnestly. ‘See, she’s always been there for me. Always treated me like an equal. Does that make any sense?’
    ‘I know what you mean,’ Anna nodded. ‘Bit like my godmother, I guess; since Mummy died, she’s the one person I can really be up front and myself with. No pretence, no
worrying about saying the right thing . . .’
    ‘Exactly!’ Felix replied, tightening his grip on her hand. ‘Roo never goes mental or tells me how to live my life. Which is more than I can say for some people.’
    ‘And your parents do?’ Anna ventured, recalling in minute detail the rows she’d had with her father when she announced that she wanted to leave Swancote Hall and study music
and politics at Fleckford College and the way Marina had fought her corner.
    ‘My mother certainly does,’ he sighed. ‘When I told Roo this morning about trying again for the Marines, she was so over the moon about it, really behind me. Whereas my mother
. . .’ He fell silent and shook his head.
    ‘Maybe your mum’s just scared for you,’ Anna suggested. ‘You know, ending up in the middle of a war zone.’
    ‘I don’t think she’s scared exactly,’ he replied. ‘See, she’s an out and out pacifist – or at least that’s what she calls herself. Exhibitionist
more like . . .’
    ‘How do you mean?’
    ‘For years, every protest march going – she’d be on it. Not just the war in Iraq or petitions to Downing Street – oh no! Want someone to tie themselves to a tree or lie
down in front of a bulldozer? Ask my mother. Don’t get me wrong – in some ways, I guess it’s good that she stands up for what she believes in. She has every right to do that
– it’s just the way she tries to convert everyone else to her way of thinking that gets to me.’ He paused for a moment, scanning the view. ‘You know what? She used to drag
me along on marches with a placard strapped to my buggy when I was too young to know what was happening. I think she only did it to attract the press.’
    Underneath the strident anger in his voice, she could detect a note of real hurt.
    ‘Maybe it wasn’t that,’ he continued. ‘I don’t know. Maybe I was just in the way.’
    ‘No, I’m sure . . .’
    ‘See, I’m the afterthought, the mistake, the kid that should never have happened. My brother and sister were both teenagers when I came along. By the time I was at primary school,
Oscar and Skye were at uni and off her hands. I was a nuisance. An obstacle in the Rise and Rise of Cassandra Wentworth.’
    ‘Cassandra Wentworth? You mean, she’s your mother? But she’s . . .’ She had been about to say ‘she’s white’ and bit her tongue just in time.
    ‘See? Even you’ve heard of her.’ Felix paused and leaned against the trunk of an oak tree. ‘So what was it? The time she threw all those knickers out of that department
store window because they weren’t Fair Trade cotton? Or maybe when she stormed in on News at Ten , supporting animal rights protestors?’
    ‘Actually,’ Anna admitted, ‘I only know about her because of my dad. He wanted her on the programme after the knicker thing but she refused. She said . . .’
    ‘ I am too busy walking the walk to sit around talking the talk, ’ Felix mimicked.
    ‘Yes,’ Anna laughed. ‘Actually, I thought that was a pretty clever