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Not a lot to do about that, she decided, except maybe not move... Finding the block-heeled mules she’d brought, she slipped them on, raising her height by three inches. She bent towards the mirror, to check out the make-up she had applied earlier. She had to lean in a little closer because there wasn’t much of it. After a moment’s reflection she added a swipe of mascara to her already dark lashes and a smudge of grey eyeshadow, and applied a second coat of gloss to her lips.
There was no time to tame her hair, so she bent forward and ran her fingers through the auburn strands before tossing it back with a drastic swoosh. She didn’t want to look as if she was trying too hard, or at all really.
Looking at her reflection in the mirror, Rose laughed and thought, Not much chance of that! And trying too hard for whom? The chances were she would be eating alone and she was acting as though she were on a date! And she was getting all stomach fluttery on the off chance he’d join her.
But he hadn’t said hewouldn’tbe joining her.
She looked in on the sleeping baby, his face illuminated by the night light on a dresser. The impulse to pick him up and hold him, and most likely wake him up, was hard to resist. Her smile faded as she thought of generations of nannies who cared for children, loved them and in some cases were the only parent the child knew, only to be given their marching orders when the child got too old to need a nanny.
Heartbreaking... She had only been caring for Declan for a couple of days but already she knew that it would be desperately hard to say goodbye. How soon did it take to fall in love? It was love at first sight for many mothers, and some adoptive parents too who hadn’t given birth... It was as if the helplessness of a baby roused protective impulses, brought out the nurturing instincts.
Quietly leaving the room, she looked in on Camille, who was perched on one of the high stools in the kitchen, her computer and books set up on the work surface.
‘Wow, you look great!’ she said when she saw Rose.
Rose smiled. ‘Thanks. You know where I am if you need me,’ she said, which was more than she did.
As if reading her thoughts Camille ripped a page from her notepad. ‘Though this might help until you get your bearings.’
Rose took the paper and studied a detailed neat line plan of the villa.
‘You will note the“we are here”and bingo is where you’re going.’
‘Oh, that is just so kind. I have the worst sense of direction,’ she admitted ruefully. ‘I spent half an hour trying to find a particular department store in a shopping precinct and then an hour trying to find the exit. I was too embarrassed to ask for help.’
The girl chuckled. ‘See you later and don’t worry about the time. I’ve got plenty to keep me occupied.’
Rose tried to pick out landmarks to help her remember the route as she navigated her way using the plan. When she arrived at the bingo door it was half open. She folded the plan and tucked it in the pocket of her trousers, and, taking a deep breath, she tapped on the door, called out, ‘Hello,’ and walked inside.
The room was empty. She told herself she was glad as her eyes moved around the room, taking in the open doors and the terrace beyond. The dark table was set for two, candles as yet unlit, and she hoped they stayed that way, in an eclectic selection of rustic holders, different sizes and textures, some glass, some wood, beautiful and also disturbingly intimate.
Her eyes centred on the wine chilling in the bucket of ice. Dutch courage or not, it was a good thing that the cork was undisturbed or she might have been tempted, because as appealing as the thought of a glass was, she was in charge of a baby.
As she walked around the room taking in all the quirky artistic touches, it was hard to believe that the man who lived here was the same man who based himself in the soulless London flat.
The answer to the mystery was probably as simple as two different interior designers.
A noise behind her made her spin around, heart pumping. When she saw Arthur standing in the doorway the anticlimax was intense.All pumped up and nowhere to go, mocked the voice in her head.
‘Hi there,’ he said, hovering half in and half out of the room.
She painted on a bright smile. ‘Are we eating together?’
He looked initially startled by the suggestion, then laughed. ‘What? Oh, no, the boss sent me to apologise, he’s stuck on a call. He said for you to start without him.’
‘I wasn’t sure he was joining me...’ But the possibility had filled her stomach with butterflies...and made her add the mascara. She glanced at the empty table. ‘Start what?’
‘God, yes, sorry.’ He entered the room and walked over to a slate-topped table, pressed a button and doors glided apart revealing shelves housing containers...quite obviously food, by the smell.
‘The boss had this contraption made to order. He works some pretty unsocial hours, and eats the same way, actually sometimes forgets to eat. This saves the staff hanging around waiting. He thought you might appreciate the informality, first night and all, long journey...’
Rose received this information in silence.
Arthur was looking at her a little uncertainly, as if he was struggling to gauge her reaction. ‘You tuck in.’
‘Oh, I will,’ she promised, floating out a brilliant and brittle smile.
When he had gone she stood there and swore. Well, she’d got what she wanted: a nice peaceful dinner with no Zac Adamos making her feel self-conscious and ill at ease. Yet at the same time there was a connection that she couldn’t explain. It was as if looking at him she were looking into a mirror and seeing the things about herself she kept secret from the world...even herself...
