Tara

Proserpina

Beatrice waddled in with a pot of weak tea and dry biscuits, fussing around me and the children drifted away.

‘I need to talk to your mother,’ rasped Lucien and the children melted away. Piers came to me and kissed my cheek fondly.

‘Get better soon, Mumma,’ he said, my handsome child-man,’ I want to have that delicious Indian naan and curry before I leave tomorrow.’

I dimpled up at him as Lucien frowned. Claude winked and waved. He was not given much to hugs and he said,

’Mumma, I gotta practice. Got a big fight lined up for this weekend.’

Dom piped up excitedly, ’Is it against Reefer Joe?’ The youngsters were avid fans of the sport and boisterous fans of their big brother, and with a sinking heart, I knew that my younger sons would also , most probably follow in their father’s footsteps and take to boxing.

Claude glanced at his father; the flippant look disappearing as he nodded when he saw that his father's laser-grey eyes were trained on him.

‘Have you been practising, b