Read Online The Secrets Women Keep by Fanny Blake - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Fanny Blake
Ads: Link
the odd difference of opinion, but where was the harm in that? Having
the downs made you appreciate the ups so much more. And she should know. And despite Dan’s love of company, Eve suspected they had no real need for anyone else. Rose’s confidence in her
marriage and her unshakeable belief that it was for keeps were enviable. She had never voiced the kind of doubts about the partnership that nagged away at Eve about hers.
‘Evie. Stop fishing. There’s nothing to catch.’
Eve wasn’t convinced, but they were on their feet, arms linked as they walked up through the narrow streets to the top of the hill. Inside the main doors of the cathedral there was an air
of expectancy. People were milling about, dressed up to the nines.
‘A wedding,’ Rose said. ‘Let’s look quickly at La Magdalena and then we can come back.’
‘Look’ and ‘quickly’ – two words that Eve would never have put together when it came to Rose’s love of art. However, she followed her towards the altar.
By the time they’d seen the small fresco – ‘Hands like a prizefighter’ was Eve’s response, which earned her a quick glare then a resigned shrug – a crowd was
hovering around the brightly lit vaulted side chapel. The guests trooped down the red carpet to the sound of organ music, stopping and chattering, finding their seats. The clamour at the cathedral
door increased as the bystanders separated to reveal the groom, a slight young man drowned in a shiny blue suit (‘Bought for him to grow into,’ whispered Rose), his hair greased into
place and a look of terror in his eyes. Beside him walked a beaming older woman (‘His mother?’ wondered Eve), who nodded greetings at those she recognised. She led him down the red
carpet to the altar, where he stood waiting.
‘Just like a lamb to the slaughter,’ whispered Eve.
‘Here comes the lucky woman.’ Rose nodded in the direction of the bride, who stepped into the cathedral on the arm of her father. Unlike her groom, the buxom young woman was like a
well-plumped white satin cushion, a picture of glowing expectation.
‘Look at her shoes,’ muttered Eve as the bride swept past. The hem of the bridal gown was lifted enough to show off a pair of towering heels that raised the bride to a full five foot
two or thereabouts. The organ music paused as a medieval-uniformed herald trumpeted her approach. When the fanfare died away, the familiar notes of Handel’s Wedding March struck up. The groom
turned, a nervous smile lighting up his face.
‘Little do they know what lies ahead.’ Eve was already heading for the door.
‘Cynic! Where’s your spirit of romance?’ Rose tore herself reluctantly away from the ceremony.
‘Lost in a reality check years ago.’ So many of those early expectations that came with her marriage to Terry had tarnished with age or rubbed away altogether. ‘Don’t
tell me yours has survived unscathed. I won’t believe you!’
Outside, despite the shade offered by the narrow old streets, it was hotter than ever. They stuck close to the tall buildings until they entered the loggia at the top of the Piazza Grande.
Passing through one busy café after another, they finally spotted Daniel staring across the sloping square where another bride and groom were posing for photos on the steps of the old
tribunal palace. Opposite him, Anna was gesticulating wildly as she made a point, minuscule roll-up in one hand, smoke pluming from her mouth. His face was as solemn as hers was excited.
When she stopped, Daniel shrugged, apparently unmoved. He looked around as Rose touched his shoulder, a small complicit smile crossing his face. The speed at which Rose removed her hand struck
Eve as unusual.
‘You’ll never guess what,’ he said. ‘Anna’s asked me to support her in her latest plan. She’s going to open a nursery.’
Eve heard Rose’s gasp, although Daniel showed no sign that he thought the idea was in any way
the downs made you appreciate the ups so much more. And she should know. And despite Dan’s love of company, Eve suspected they had no real need for anyone else. Rose’s confidence in her
marriage and her unshakeable belief that it was for keeps were enviable. She had never voiced the kind of doubts about the partnership that nagged away at Eve about hers.
‘Evie. Stop fishing. There’s nothing to catch.’
Eve wasn’t convinced, but they were on their feet, arms linked as they walked up through the narrow streets to the top of the hill. Inside the main doors of the cathedral there was an air
of expectancy. People were milling about, dressed up to the nines.
‘A wedding,’ Rose said. ‘Let’s look quickly at La Magdalena and then we can come back.’
‘Look’ and ‘quickly’ – two words that Eve would never have put together when it came to Rose’s love of art. However, she followed her towards the altar.
By the time they’d seen the small fresco – ‘Hands like a prizefighter’ was Eve’s response, which earned her a quick glare then a resigned shrug – a crowd was
hovering around the brightly lit vaulted side chapel. The guests trooped down the red carpet to the sound of organ music, stopping and chattering, finding their seats. The clamour at the cathedral
door increased as the bystanders separated to reveal the groom, a slight young man drowned in a shiny blue suit (‘Bought for him to grow into,’ whispered Rose), his hair greased into
place and a look of terror in his eyes. Beside him walked a beaming older woman (‘His mother?’ wondered Eve), who nodded greetings at those she recognised. She led him down the red
carpet to the altar, where he stood waiting.
‘Just like a lamb to the slaughter,’ whispered Eve.
‘Here comes the lucky woman.’ Rose nodded in the direction of the bride, who stepped into the cathedral on the arm of her father. Unlike her groom, the buxom young woman was like a
well-plumped white satin cushion, a picture of glowing expectation.
‘Look at her shoes,’ muttered Eve as the bride swept past. The hem of the bridal gown was lifted enough to show off a pair of towering heels that raised the bride to a full five foot
two or thereabouts. The organ music paused as a medieval-uniformed herald trumpeted her approach. When the fanfare died away, the familiar notes of Handel’s Wedding March struck up. The groom
turned, a nervous smile lighting up his face.
‘Little do they know what lies ahead.’ Eve was already heading for the door.
‘Cynic! Where’s your spirit of romance?’ Rose tore herself reluctantly away from the ceremony.
‘Lost in a reality check years ago.’ So many of those early expectations that came with her marriage to Terry had tarnished with age or rubbed away altogether. ‘Don’t
tell me yours has survived unscathed. I won’t believe you!’
Outside, despite the shade offered by the narrow old streets, it was hotter than ever. They stuck close to the tall buildings until they entered the loggia at the top of the Piazza Grande.
Passing through one busy café after another, they finally spotted Daniel staring across the sloping square where another bride and groom were posing for photos on the steps of the old
tribunal palace. Opposite him, Anna was gesticulating wildly as she made a point, minuscule roll-up in one hand, smoke pluming from her mouth. His face was as solemn as hers was excited.
When she stopped, Daniel shrugged, apparently unmoved. He looked around as Rose touched his shoulder, a small complicit smile crossing his face. The speed at which Rose removed her hand struck
Eve as unusual.
‘You’ll never guess what,’ he said. ‘Anna’s asked me to support her in her latest plan. She’s going to open a nursery.’
Eve heard Rose’s gasp, although Daniel showed no sign that he thought the idea was in any way
Similar Books
