Page 60 of Payback

The hamper ended up selling for five-thousand, four-hundred-and-fifty pounds. Mr. Bourneville walked onto the stage, clad in a cream boating blazer that showed off his broad frame and thick biceps. He handed the hamper to the winner and made a pompous-sounding announcement about an upcoming summer sale at his department store.

Afterward, he strolled around the lawn with Mrs. Bourneville on his arm. She wore a wide-legged pastel blue jumpsuit with a wrap-around top that showed off her golden hair and slim figure and she held a contrasting sienna-yellow clutch. Her face lit up as they approached.

“Of course,” muttered Mr. Bourneville. “My degenerate son’s lovers would have to be friends.”

“Mr. Bourneville, are you here to donate?” Edward gestured at the entrance of the blood donation trailer.

The older man narrowed his green eyes.

Blake stepped forward. “I was going to make a witty remark about getting blood out of a stone, but I was distracted by Mrs. Bourneville’s beauty.”

“How are you, dear?” Mrs. Bourneville exchanged air kisses with Blake.

“Better for seeing you.”

With a disgusted snort, Mr. Bourneville rolled his eyes. I pushed a leaflet into his hand, and I walked around the table to greet Henry’s mom.

“And Henry?” asked Mrs. Bourneville.

“Unburdened, I’d say.” Blake shot the older man a filthy look.

Henry’s mom exchanged hugs and kisses with Edward and me, while Mr. Bourneville cast impatient glances around the stalls. He probably didn’t want to admit he was looking for Henry.

I stepped back and gave him my sweetest smile. “Are you going to donate, sir? There’s a reporter inside, interviewing donors.”

With a grunt, he walked up the trailer stairs. I glared at his broad back. He obviously wanted something from Henry if he was flaunting his wealth at Mercia Academy. As far as I knew, Henry hadn’t asked for his inheritance back. Did Mr. Bourneville want his son to beg?

“Where’s Henry?” I asked.

“Getting the Pimms and lemonade.” Blake nodded in the direction of the refreshment tent, where Henry emerged with a large jug of fruit cup.

Mr. Bourneville stormed down the stairs and beckoned for Henry to meet him behind the trailer. Henry rolled his eyes, gave his mother a quick peck on the lips, and walked around to the back. Blake rushed after Henry to unburden him of his tray.

The older man cleared his throat. “The summer holiday starts next week. I’ve arranged a job for you on the shop floor of our Hong Kong branch. If you perform to my satisfaction, I may—”

“I’ve decided to pursue a career in professional rugby,” said Henry.

Mr. Bourneville snorted. “Nonsense. They kicked you off the team.”

“And they’ve lost every match since. I’ll challenge Coates for my position at the start of next year.”

The egg-and-spoon race started, and cheers filled the lawn. I snuck around the trailer to get a view of proceedings. Mr. Bourneville’s face darkened as though he was building himself up to a rant. Henry turned around, seeming to have ended the conversation.

“Don’t walk away from me.” Mr. Bourneville grabbed Henry by the arm.

Henry spun and head-butted his father straight in the face, making the older man grunt and staggered back. My hand rose to my chest. I was pretty sure his mom wanted Henry to use words, rather than violence, to stand up to his father, but Mr. Bourneville seemed to have gotten the message.

Henry’s dad strode out from behind the trailer, clutching his hand over his bleeding nose. “Clara, we’re leaving.”

Mrs. Bourneville turned around and winked. “We’ll be between Tokyo and Hong Kong this summer. The London flat and European villas are at your disposal.”

“I hope you’re not upset—”

She rushed up at him and threw her arms around his neck. “I’ve been waiting years for you to knock that pompous ass on his behind. Things will be different the next time you meet.”

“Clara!” Mr. Bourneville hissed.

“Bye, boys. Bye, Emilia.” She spun on her heel and hurried down the magnolia path.