Dinner is now being brought out to us all, by two hired waiting staff that look no older than eighteen. The male teen funnily looks like a stereotypical Italian waiter—dark, smoothed over hair, olive complexion and a slightly aquiline nose. While the female teen has swept-back long blonde hair and has skin so pale, I wonder whether she has ever sat out in the sunshine for a significant period of time. I'm watching them with silent interest, because once upon a teenage time, I was briefly a waitress. A spectacularly bad and brief one.

Put me in front of a computer, and I know exactly what to do. Put me anywhere near a lot of plates and cutlery, and I'm a total disaster.

I only lasted three Saturdays in the café that I had worked at when I was sixteen. The owner liked me a lot, but said that he didn't have enough plates to permanently keep me on. In the end, mum and dad decided to pay me a little something for helping them both out with their accountant businesses. So when I see waiting staff who make it all look so effortlessly easy, I can't help but admire them.

"Isn't this lovely?" The very genial Ellen declares with delighted clasped hands, while looking down at her triple cheese and tarragon-stuffed mushrooms starter.

I glance up, smiling. I think the very lovely Ellen is equally just as delighted to her being seated to the left side of Mitch. To his right, is the dry-humoured and very Scottish Psychology professor, Fraser.

Opposite to Mitch, I am sat in between his brother Marcus and a neckerchief wearing Fine Art lecturer called Asena, which she has already proudly informed me means She-Wolf. With her spiky shock of wine-red hair and her plum stained thin lips, I think I can believe that this woman is quite the femme fatale when she wants to be.

"Now that I have you parked next to me, Rebecca, tell me a little about yourself?" Marcus asks in a very friendly way, while cutting into one of his succulent mushrooms.

"I run my own computer company...well more of a franchise, actually." I smile, before putting a little of my starter into my mouth.

Swallowing down his own mouthful, Marcus appears really keen to know more. "Doing what exactly?"

Tilting my head slightly, I'm always happy to talk about my work. "We do all of the usual run-of-the-mill troubleshooting and maintenance of systems, but there's an exciting increase in cyber security now, which is really where I'd like to move more of the franchise into."

Arching both of his dark eye brows, Marcus nods, impressed with my answer. "Well, I may be able to give you some pointers with that, I work within the Digital Intelligence Unit for Gloucestershire Constabulary."

"Really? What's your role there?" Okay, I'll admit it, he's definitely caught my geeky interest now.

"I'm a Digital Forensics Expert." Like me, he appears to be proud of his profession.

Genuinely interested, I turn a little more towards him, resting my fork on my plate. "So you analyse digital data?"

Marcus himself has turned more in my direction, keen to fully engage in our conversation. "I do. I investigate CCTV footage, social media content, data from seized computers and mobile phones...I also support the staff with advice regarding internet crime." His eyes on me are now softly assessing. "Cyber crime is huge now, so if you need any help whatsoever...just let me know." His straight mouth breaks into a leisurely smile.

It is then that I look him right in the eye, flashing a smile of great thanks. "That would be great."

"My pleasure." Marcus says, successfully disarming me with his arresting smile. Maybe I have misjudged him? Maybe he's not as bad as I thought he was?

Gazing down at my stuffed mushrooms, I suddenly think that they'll taste much nicer with a little more seasoning on them. With a quick stretch of my hand, I am reaching for the salt, but Marcus Heston is doing the very same. In the blink of an eye, my hand is clasped around the salt mill and his hand is clasped around mine. "Oh, sorry," comes my embarrassed apology. "Here, you have it first." I'm still very aware that his hand is still wrapped around mine.

"Not at all, ladies first." Still, his hand is on mine.

Only then, do I look across to Mitch. He isn't just looking at both me and Marcus, his eyes are now drilling into us from where he quietly sits at the table. I am literally a victim of his unimpressed glare. A victim of his unsaid anger. My eyes flick down to where my hand still has hold of the salt and Marcus still has hold of that hand. Realising how that overly long, yet purely accidental, hand-holding scenario must look to Mitch, a blush like a shadow literally runs across my cheeks. "It's fine, you have it." Then I yank my hand free, placing it safely down on my lap, out of offending sight beneath the tablecloth.

Lifting the salt mill, Marcus then happily starts twisting it just above his half-eaten mushrooms, smirking across to his brother while he does so. As he's slowly twisting the salt, Marcus Heston knows that he's slowly twisting up his brother at the very same time. The sardonic grin says it all.

Inner anger is singeing the corners of my soul. I'm angry with Marcus for holding my hand that was innocently holding the salt mill. I'm angry, because I know he has quietly glorified that moment at the expense of his younger brother. That's when I shoot a damning stare at Marcus, whose lively twinkle in his eye only incenses me even more. Dragging my disgusted eyes away from him, my full and sorry attention once again falls on Mitch. My mute and pale Mitch. His anger has drained his face of all its handsome colour, of all its handsome expression. Cold blue eyes are now silently sniping at me, silently glazing over with rage. Mitch's eyes soon narrow and his back straightens up with pride. "If you'll excuse me." Then he stands, leaving the dinner table with such stiff dignity.

I've already lost my appetite, and I don't want to give the remaining Heston's the loss of my temper too, so I remove the napkin from off my lap and place it beside my starter plate. "I don't think Mitch is feeling too great, I think I'll just go and check on him." It might be a weak-sounding excuse, but it's an excuse that will enable me to just leave this damn table. With worry at the heel of every stride that I take from out of that room, I need to quickly find Mitch.

**

I have looked everywhere downstairs, even in the front and back gardens—Mitch is nowhere. Blowing out a series of short and anxious breaths, I'm trying to stay calm.

He hasn't left, has he?

He wouldn't just leave without me, would he?

Rubbing my arms, I feel cold with the thoughts that I'm now thinking. Mitch would never just up and leave without me, but then again, he did look angry; an angry that I have never seen upon his face before. So the panicking thoughts increase, as does my coldness.

From behind me, I'm soon hearing a voice. "Is everything okay, Rebecca?"

At the end of the hallway, stands Marcus. Just seeing him, has me needing to just close my eyes for a couple of seconds, so I can inwardly compose myself. This is his fault. All his asshole fault. "You know it's not okay, Marcus, so please just leave me alone." My eyes are darting to where they need to go next—upstairs.

To go up them, I need to unfortunately walk nearer to where Marcus Heston is, so I begin walking with dramatic determination. "He is probably in his old bedroom, he usually hides himself away in there when he's had enough of being around us." He casually tells me with spiteful indifference.

I honestly am at a loss with this man. A supposedly grown man, who acts like nothing more than a petulant youth. My face now tightens with irritation, tightening with impatience for who this man presents himself to be. "I don't know what has happened between you and your brother, Marcus, but from all that I've seen tonight, I am beginning to understand why Mitch hates being around you and your father."

Placing one hand inside of his trouser pocket, Marcus Heston adorns a nonchalant smirk as he half-heartedly then shrugs. "You know nothing about us, Rebecca...not all families like one another."

Now standing at the foot of the stairs, my head turns to look at Marcus. "That much is true, but both you and your father try to belittle and goad Mitch...that's not right."

That smirk of his only widens. "Maybe it isn't, but it's always been this way between us."

Displeased with Marcus's reply, I've had more than enough of being anywhere near him. I don't have the time or the energy for his negativity, I really don't. "I need to find Mitch." I'm cutting this conversation off, cutting it off right now.

But as my feet begin to climb the stairs, Marcus tries to engage with me once again. "You don't strike me as the kind of woman who will forever be happy to follow Mitch and his fame all around the world, Rebecca. You are intelligent and independent—everything that my brother doesn't usually go for in his women." I have stopped ascending the stairs, but I won't yet give Marcus Heston the satisfaction of turning around. Not that it seems to bother him, he only seems interested in getting a few more things off his cruel chest. "Yeah, he's usually only interested in the 'fun time fannies and the vain air heads'...but you, you're very different." I know he's now closer, his voice sounds closer. "You don't need a man who acts for a living, Rebecca, you need a real man who lives in the real world. My brother's fame will just chew you up and eventually spit you back out."

Only then, do I feel ready to look at him.

Only then, do I know that I am ready to look at him.

As I slowly turn around, my displeased stare rests on him with cold, hard confidence. "I'd much rather be with a man who acts for a living but knows how to be true to himself, rather than being with a man who in reality, is only pretending to be a real man." My tone is femininely stubborn; stubborn and now almost mocking. "In front of me, I only see a divorced, bitter and jealous man, who wishes that he could have just a tiny bit of the exciting world that his brother has." I'm not blinking and my expression remains defiantly still. "I love your brother. He's a wonderful man, and it deeply saddens me that both you and your father can't see the incredible man that Mitch truly is." I then turn my back on Marcus, ready to climb those stairs again. This time, I'll not stop. This time, my need to find Mitch won't be interrupted. This time, I will find him.