Summer At Villa Rosa Collection. Kate Hardy

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СКАЧАТЬ even a real spider but one of those horrible rubber things you can get from a joke shop.’

      ‘Why did he pick on you?’

      ‘Apparently his father had called him a fool for letting a girl beat him in a maths test.’

      ‘What a pity you can’t suspend parents for bad behaviour.’

      She shook her head. ‘The poor kid was to be pitied but it doesn’t alter the fact that every time I see a spider I’m eight years old again and I can feel all those legs wriggling against my skin.’

      ‘That’s classic PTSD.’

      ‘Not the kind anyone takes seriously.’ She rinsed the cloth under the tap. ‘I’ve learned to deal calmly with the occasional spider in the bath and believe me I checked before I got into the tub. I was washing my hair and I’d closed my eyes when I rinsed off the shampoo. When I opened them it was right there on the wall, thirty centimetres from my face.’

      ‘It would have given anyone a bad moment.’ He turned away, looked at a damp patch in the corner of the ceiling. ‘I hate to say this but, looking at the state of this place, I’m afraid you’re likely to meet a few of that chap’s relations if you stay here. Why don’t you move into a hotel?’

      ‘I’m not here for a holiday...’ Before he could ask why she was here, she said, ‘Probate is moving at the speed of a glacier, Posy is tied up until later this summer and meantime this place is going to rack and ruin.’

      He frowned. ‘Should you be here if the estate isn’t settled? Where did you get the key?’

      ‘Sofia gave a set to Grandma the last time she was here. She must have known she was dying.’

      ‘Posy’s godmother? Why was she living here?’

      ‘Sofia Romana? I don’t suppose you’ve heard of her but she was one of the early supermodels. There’s a photograph of her in the hall. She knew everyone, mixed in high society and when she had an affair with King Ludano, he set her up in this villa.’

      ‘An interesting choice as godmother.’

      ‘She and my grandmother were best friends. They started kindergarten on the same day. Mum and Dad were totally tied up trying to keep Marlowe Aviation afloat after Granddad died so suddenly and Grandma used to bring us here for the holidays. It was enormous fun. Film stars used to come to her parties.’

      ‘What happened?’

      ‘We grew up and life got serious.’ She looked up, gazed out of the window. ‘We sent cards for Sofia’s birthday and Christmas. Little gifts, but I wish...’ She shook her head. ‘Have you had breakfast?’

      ‘No, but your kindly neighbour brought you cornetti as a peace offering.’ He tore open the bag that he’d retrieved on his way back inside, releasing the scent of the warm, cream-filled pastries. ‘I hope you’re going to share.’

      Her stomach gave a warning lurch and she looked quickly away. Not now... Please, not now...

      ‘Help yourself.’

      ‘Are you okay?’

      ‘Fine.’ She plunged her hands back into the water, produced a plate and put it on the rack. The soap had a faint lemony scent and she concentrated hard on that. Cleve picked up a cloth and reached for the plate. ‘It’s more hygienic to let them drain,’ she said.

      ‘Is it? What can I do to help?’

      ‘Nothing. Why don’t you take your breakfast outside? They’ll taste better in the fresh air.’

      ‘Will they?’ He bit into one of them, releasing a wave of buttery, creamy, sugary scent. ‘I don’t think that’s possible. Is there any coffee?’

      Coffee...

      She didn’t need the smell; the word was enough. She just about managed a strangled ‘No—’ before, clamping a wet hand over her mouth, she ran for the cloakroom.

      Afterwards, she splashed her face with cold water and when she looked up Cleve was leaning against the door frame, arms folded, his face unreadable.

      ‘Am I the last to know?’ he asked.

      ‘No!’ This was a nightmare. Exactly what she hadn’t wanted to happen. ‘No one knows.’

      ‘I think Lucy might have a good idea.’

      ‘I haven’t told her. I haven’t told anyone.’

      He nodded. ‘So when were you going to tell me?’

      ‘Can I...?’ She indicated the doorway he was blocking. ‘I could do with some fresh air.’

      He moved aside, following her through the snug to the veranda. She sat on one of the steps and if he’d sat beside her, reached out to take her hand, if he’d said something...

      Instead he leaned against one of the pillars and the silence stretched out like an elastic band that you knew was going to come back and sting you if you didn’t do something.

      ‘I haven’t seen you, Cleve.’

      ‘You were the one who left that morning. You arranged your schedule so that we wouldn’t be in the office at the same time.’

      She stared at him. ‘What? No.’ She shook her head. ‘You did that.’

      ‘Me? Why would I do that? Damn it, Miranda, you saved me that night. If I’d got in the Mayfly I would have flown in a direct line to the coast and kept going until I ran out of fuel. You knew that,’ he said. ‘It’s why you stopped me.’

      ‘Yes...’ The word was no more than a whisper. His eyes had been dead.

      ‘It’s why you flew her back the next morning and left me your Nymph. I understood that and I came after you but you didn’t stay to see if I got her safely back to base.’

      ‘I knew you’d never do anything to damage her.’

      She’d seen him through his moment of crisis, given him the comfort of her body when he was in despair and then again in an act of healing. She’d seen him laid bare, held him while he’d wept in her arms. Watched him sleeping, all the tension of the last year wiped from his face.

      ‘Immi was expecting me.’

      ‘For the dress fitting. That was much more important, obviously. How did it go?’

      ‘The fitting?’ She frowned. Why on earth would he care? ‘Fine. No frills,’ she said, but in truth she scarcely remembered the dress, or Immi’s excited chatter about food, flowers, music.

      Her senses were totally swamped by the night she’d spent with Cleve.

      It was as if he’d been starving and he’d filled himself with every part of her, filled her with every part of him and she was hanging onto the memory of every touch of his hand, his mouth, his tongue. Storing it up like a squirrel hoarding nuts for the winter.

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