Page 25 of Crocodile Tears

Noah Lytton gave a strained smile, and they faced the usual tortured choice of going in for a hug or offering a hand. Alex opted for the hug and opened his arms, but Noah held out his hand instead. Alex felt an old anger rise up inside and settle around him like a cloak.

Noah was in his late forties but looked ten years older with his paunch, thinning hair, and permanently haggard expression. Alex had always wished he looked like his mother, as Charles did, but his dark hair, grey eyes, and pale skin placed him firmly on his father’s side of the family.

“Good journey?” Noah asked, studying him closely.

“Ask Neil – that’s what you pay him for, isn’t it?” Alex lit another cigarette, drew on it heavily, and then blew a cloud of smoke into his father’s face.

“I can see you haven’t changed,” Noah snapped, waving the smoke away.

“And neither have you, Daddy darling.” Alex gave a sweet smile, leaned forward, and planted a sarcastic peck of a kiss on his father’s cheek before pushing past him into the house. He jogged up the stairs to his bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

This room felt safe and confining at the same time, the way it had during the time he’d spent hiding away after the accident. He opened his suitcase, which the servants had placed in his room, and immediately pulled out the long green chiffon scarf he took wherever he went. It had belonged to his mother – she’d loved scarfs, as colourful and dramatic as possible.

He wondered, not for the first time, how she and his father had ever fallen in love. He found his father rigid, conventional, and devoidof imagination, but Noah Lytton had loved his vivacious wife to bits. His grief at her loss was still etched on his face.

Alex opened the window so he could flick out cigarette ash. Then he sat down on the window seat, leaned back, and wrapped the scarf around his neck, pulling the free end over his nose and inhaling his mother’s scent. He knew she would have hated to be the cause of all this anguish – she’d been so much fun and had always disliked anyone moping around her.

There was a tentative knock on the door, which he ignored. It opened anyway, and Neil stepped inside.

“Charles sent me to tell you that lunch is ready,” he announced.

Alex remained seated, still gazing at the achingly familiar view from the window.

“Uh, are you okay? It must be hard, being back here again,” Neil said softly.

“You think?” Alex snorted. “I wish I was back in Oxford. I can at least pretend I’m free there, even with you spying on me all the time. The past lives here like a fog, so thick and heavy that I can barely breathe.”

“I like it here,” Neil said. “The rooms are huge compared to what I was used to growing up, and there’s so much space. I suppose it must feel different for you, though, because of… you know.” He took a step back, towards the door. “Come on – you’ll feel better after some lunch.”

“Don’t tell him,” Alex blurted. Neil turned, questioningly. “Don’t tell my father about the drugs and the boys. What you said earlier, about lying to him for me – please do it. I can’t stand the thought of having to come back here to live again. I didn’t realise how much it mattered until just now, when I arrived.” He took a deep breath. “I can’t live here again. Please… lie to him for me.”

Neil’s face lit up. “I will. Now, come down to lunch.” He turned and left.

Alex finished his cigarette slowly, then closed the window, unwrapped the scarf from around his neck, and went downstairs.

Charles, his father, and Neil were all assembled in the dining room, and he could sense his dad’s rising tide of anger at being kept waiting.The fact that the black sheep son made no effort to atone for his many sins was both infuriating and inexplicable to a man like Noah.

He took his seat at the table, and his mood lifted a fraction when Charles shot him a dimpled grin; it was always impossible to resist his brother’s smiles.

“So, how is everything at Lytton AV, sir?” Neil asked, as one of the servants served them bowls of soup.

“All ticking along.” Noah gave a tight smile. “How do you like the duck I gave you?”

“She’s great, sir – runs really well. I try to avoid the lost zones as much as possible, but when I do have to take her through the water, she’s pretty fast, and she hasn’t broken down on me once.”

“Excellent!” Noah beamed. “That was the upgraded Lytton Classic design that we invested in heavily a couple of years ago, and I’ve been very pleased with how it turned out.”

“You shouldn’t be – it’s crap,” Alex snapped. They all turned to look at him. “Well, it is.” He shrugged. “Look, I know AVs had to be cheap and utilitarian in the dark old days after the Rising, but that was years ago. You have to shake that off and make them beautiful and not just functional. The world is bouncing back, the economy is on the move, and they’ve started building these new floating cities. People have money again – and they want to spend it on something luxurious, not some chugging piece of metal.”

His father took a sip of his wine. “Ah, how kind of you to give us the benefit of your many years of experience in the AV industry, Alex,” he said tersely.

“I might not have atrophied in a boardroom for the past twenty-odd years, like you, but I’ve driven Lytton ducks – I know what they’re like.”

“Youusedto drive them,” his father snapped. “Until you got pumped up on drugs, drove one into a tree, and destroyed this family. So, I don’t think anyone needs to hear your opinion on this subject, do you?”

Alex sat back in his chair and a tense silence fell around the table.

“So, are you going to work in the family business, Charles?” Neil asked eventually.

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