She hadn’t.
‘Was I boring you?’ Rose whispered, crouching beside her. ‘I got a bit carried away.’
‘No. It’s not that. I thought I’d check whether Amy had been in touch.’
‘What’s the point in having an assistant if you can’t trust them to hold the fort without you?’ Rose stood, obviously upset by Eve’s lack of interest.
‘Don’t be like that.’ Eve shoved the BlackBerry back in her bag as she got to her feet. ‘I think they’re marvellous. Really, I do.’
‘I know I go on.’
‘I promise you I do.’ Eve winced as her blister stung. ‘I just had to sit down for a moment. Now, tell me about the last two. I want to know,’ she protested to
Rose’s look of scepticism.
Beside them a family of three English boys stood to attention as their father pointed out the artist’s use of perspective, just as Rose was explaining it to her. Eve tried to concentrate
on what she was being told but instead found herself imagining Terry and her bringing Charlie, Tom, Luke and Millie here. They’d have lasted two seconds before boredom morphed into mayhem.
But of course she’d have had to drag Terry in, in the first place. Renaissance art was not on his list of must-sees. For him, Italy was for hedonism only. He was happiest by the pool or in
the hammock, relaxing until the next meal or drink came along. And if she was honest, Eve was more than glad to follow suit most of the time.
‘Oh come on.’ Rose smiled. ‘I know when I’m beaten. Let’s go and get that coffee.’
Almost crying out loud with relief, Eve limped beside her towards the exit and into the small piazza outside, where they took a table in the shade at the café opposite.
‘Whatever you think, I love all this and having you as my guide.’ The truth. But just not in this temperature.
‘It’s fine. Really.’ Rose called the waiter over. ‘
Un te freddo e un caffe macchiato, per favore
. It was hot in there.’
After a while, she asked for the bill. ‘We’d better get going. I want to show you the one della Francesca in the cathedral before we meet the others.’
‘Don’t you ever let up!’ Eve groaned, her foot pleading for release.
‘If you’d rather not . . .’ Rose pulled her purse out of her bag and put it on the table.
‘I was only joking,’ Eve hastened to reassure her. ‘Where’s your sense of humour? This isn’t like you.’
‘Feeling a bit sensitive, I suppose. No reason.’ Rose twisted her wedding ring round and round her finger. ‘Sorry.’
‘Thinking of the others, what’s up with Dan?’ Eve couldn’t resist asking. If Rose wouldn’t talk about herself, then perhaps she would about her husband.
‘Nothing, as far as I know. Why?’ Rose counted out her euros. They chinked as they hit the saucer.
‘He’s normally so relaxed here, but this time . . . I don’t know.’ Eve watched Rose put away her purse. She could see from her friend’s closed expression that
she’d touched a nerve. Once she’d done that, she didn’t like to give up until she’d unearthed the problem. Rose didn’t always confide easily, preferring to mull over
her troubles, hoping they’d resolve themselves without having to involve anyone else. However, there had been the time when, over a couple of bottles of wine, Rose had finally told her about
Anna’s eating disorder and then her self-harming. Since then, she’d admitted that being able to talk about her worries had helped her get through that difficult period, when she and
Daniel were at odds over what to do. Afterwards, though, she’d retreated back into the shell of her marriage, where she and Daniel were most comfortable.
If there was anything disturbing the status quo, Eve wanted to be able to help fix it. Rose and Daniel’s relationship usually struck her as the perfect balance of independence from and
dependence upon each other. They never seemed to have had any doubts about their rightness for one another. They may have had
‘Was I boring you?’ Rose whispered, crouching beside her. ‘I got a bit carried away.’
‘No. It’s not that. I thought I’d check whether Amy had been in touch.’
‘What’s the point in having an assistant if you can’t trust them to hold the fort without you?’ Rose stood, obviously upset by Eve’s lack of interest.
‘Don’t be like that.’ Eve shoved the BlackBerry back in her bag as she got to her feet. ‘I think they’re marvellous. Really, I do.’
‘I know I go on.’
‘I promise you I do.’ Eve winced as her blister stung. ‘I just had to sit down for a moment. Now, tell me about the last two. I want to know,’ she protested to
Rose’s look of scepticism.
Beside them a family of three English boys stood to attention as their father pointed out the artist’s use of perspective, just as Rose was explaining it to her. Eve tried to concentrate
on what she was being told but instead found herself imagining Terry and her bringing Charlie, Tom, Luke and Millie here. They’d have lasted two seconds before boredom morphed into mayhem.
But of course she’d have had to drag Terry in, in the first place. Renaissance art was not on his list of must-sees. For him, Italy was for hedonism only. He was happiest by the pool or in
the hammock, relaxing until the next meal or drink came along. And if she was honest, Eve was more than glad to follow suit most of the time.
‘Oh come on.’ Rose smiled. ‘I know when I’m beaten. Let’s go and get that coffee.’
Almost crying out loud with relief, Eve limped beside her towards the exit and into the small piazza outside, where they took a table in the shade at the café opposite.
‘Whatever you think, I love all this and having you as my guide.’ The truth. But just not in this temperature.
‘It’s fine. Really.’ Rose called the waiter over. ‘
Un te freddo e un caffe macchiato, per favore
. It was hot in there.’
After a while, she asked for the bill. ‘We’d better get going. I want to show you the one della Francesca in the cathedral before we meet the others.’
‘Don’t you ever let up!’ Eve groaned, her foot pleading for release.
‘If you’d rather not . . .’ Rose pulled her purse out of her bag and put it on the table.
‘I was only joking,’ Eve hastened to reassure her. ‘Where’s your sense of humour? This isn’t like you.’
‘Feeling a bit sensitive, I suppose. No reason.’ Rose twisted her wedding ring round and round her finger. ‘Sorry.’
‘Thinking of the others, what’s up with Dan?’ Eve couldn’t resist asking. If Rose wouldn’t talk about herself, then perhaps she would about her husband.
‘Nothing, as far as I know. Why?’ Rose counted out her euros. They chinked as they hit the saucer.
‘He’s normally so relaxed here, but this time . . . I don’t know.’ Eve watched Rose put away her purse. She could see from her friend’s closed expression that
she’d touched a nerve. Once she’d done that, she didn’t like to give up until she’d unearthed the problem. Rose didn’t always confide easily, preferring to mull over
her troubles, hoping they’d resolve themselves without having to involve anyone else. However, there had been the time when, over a couple of bottles of wine, Rose had finally told her about
Anna’s eating disorder and then her self-harming. Since then, she’d admitted that being able to talk about her worries had helped her get through that difficult period, when she and
Daniel were at odds over what to do. Afterwards, though, she’d retreated back into the shell of her marriage, where she and Daniel were most comfortable.
If there was anything disturbing the status quo, Eve wanted to be able to help fix it. Rose and Daniel’s relationship usually struck her as the perfect balance of independence from and
dependence upon each other. They never seemed to have had any doubts about their rightness for one another. They may have had
Similar Books
