react when he found her out.
She had broken one of the Ancient Laws; a law
specifically written to protect their kind. Cassia sighed, it was hard to
believe that she was stuck here but it wasn’t as though there was any pressing
need for her to be doing anything else. Money was fine at the moment, that job
she had done three months ago in Florence had netted her a cool quarter of a
million dollars.
The truth was she didn’t need to steal paintings
anymore; she and Flavia were wealthy thanks to the jobs she had done over the
last century. No, nowadays she took on the very few jobs she did simply for the
challenge. She had lost her focus and she was drifting, planning and executing
increasingly complicated thefts filled up an empty space in her life. It was so
different for Flavia. She travelled all over the place enchanting audiences
with her beautiful voice and the way she could hold a gathering spellbound when
she told her stories and legends. Cassia was happy to support her, do the
admin, bank the comparatively small payments she received and carry her
instruments and bags. She was proud of what Flavia had accomplished.
Perhaps she should spend more time trying to build a
better relationship with her mother. Even as she thought this Cassia dismissed
the idea; she had always been closer to her father, it was Flavia who was her
mother’s favourite. In addition, her mother had always hated what she did even
when it had put food on the table and paid the bills. She had a son now with
her second consort and she was very happy. No, Cassia decided, best to leave
well alone.
She felt herself sliding further into gloom and jumped
as a hand tapped her on the shoulder;
“Miss Mathrafal, are you day dreaming? I called you
twice from the top of the stairs and you were very far away.”
Cassia smiled as Beatriz came round and stood in front
of her, a large sketchpad tucked under her arm.
“I’m sorry Beatriz. You’re right, I was miles away.
Now, if you and I are going to get along do you think you could call me Cassia?
I always feel I’m in trouble when people call me Miss Mathrafal.”
Beatriz laughed, “I know what you mean; when Papa gets
cross with me he always calls me Beatriz Isabella Carlotta de Seville, just
like that!”
She did such a good impression of Javier that Cassia
started laughing too. Beatriz glanced up the stairs then leaned forward
urgently;
“Soon they’ll all be coming down for breakfast. If we
hurry we’ll get to look at the sunflower painting in peace. Come on.”
Turning, she hurried across the hall and Cassia jumped
to her feet and followed her. They entered a large cheerful room filled with
the fragrance of fresh coffee percolating on a large dresser and the
mouth-watering aroma of newly baked bread and croissants but all Cassia saw was
the painting that had pride of place on one of the walls. She restrained
herself, waiting until Beatriz took her hand and led her across the room till
they were standing right in front of it.
“Now Cassia, that’s my favourite painting in the whole
house. Can you see why?”
Cassia found it hard to speak. Her heart was hammering
with excitement and tears of joy pricked at her eyes. She was always like this
when she came face to face with a painting she loved. She cleared her throat
and was surprised that she managed to sound so calm;
“Tournesols. That’s French for sunflowers Beatriz as
I’m sure you know. This is without doubt one of the first series he did in
Arles. A very, very good one indeed. I thought I’d seen all the Arles sunflower
paintings but obviously not. Sunflowers you see, made him feel happy. He
painted this and the other sunflower paintings to decorate the studio he was
going to share with his friend, another great artist called Paul Gauguin.
“Nothing but big flowers” he was reported to have said.”
“Well it makes me feel happy. I love it. Do you see
how it fills the room with golden light? That must be what the sun
She had broken one of the Ancient Laws; a law
specifically written to protect their kind. Cassia sighed, it was hard to
believe that she was stuck here but it wasn’t as though there was any pressing
need for her to be doing anything else. Money was fine at the moment, that job
she had done three months ago in Florence had netted her a cool quarter of a
million dollars.
The truth was she didn’t need to steal paintings
anymore; she and Flavia were wealthy thanks to the jobs she had done over the
last century. No, nowadays she took on the very few jobs she did simply for the
challenge. She had lost her focus and she was drifting, planning and executing
increasingly complicated thefts filled up an empty space in her life. It was so
different for Flavia. She travelled all over the place enchanting audiences
with her beautiful voice and the way she could hold a gathering spellbound when
she told her stories and legends. Cassia was happy to support her, do the
admin, bank the comparatively small payments she received and carry her
instruments and bags. She was proud of what Flavia had accomplished.
Perhaps she should spend more time trying to build a
better relationship with her mother. Even as she thought this Cassia dismissed
the idea; she had always been closer to her father, it was Flavia who was her
mother’s favourite. In addition, her mother had always hated what she did even
when it had put food on the table and paid the bills. She had a son now with
her second consort and she was very happy. No, Cassia decided, best to leave
well alone.
She felt herself sliding further into gloom and jumped
as a hand tapped her on the shoulder;
“Miss Mathrafal, are you day dreaming? I called you
twice from the top of the stairs and you were very far away.”
Cassia smiled as Beatriz came round and stood in front
of her, a large sketchpad tucked under her arm.
“I’m sorry Beatriz. You’re right, I was miles away.
Now, if you and I are going to get along do you think you could call me Cassia?
I always feel I’m in trouble when people call me Miss Mathrafal.”
Beatriz laughed, “I know what you mean; when Papa gets
cross with me he always calls me Beatriz Isabella Carlotta de Seville, just
like that!”
She did such a good impression of Javier that Cassia
started laughing too. Beatriz glanced up the stairs then leaned forward
urgently;
“Soon they’ll all be coming down for breakfast. If we
hurry we’ll get to look at the sunflower painting in peace. Come on.”
Turning, she hurried across the hall and Cassia jumped
to her feet and followed her. They entered a large cheerful room filled with
the fragrance of fresh coffee percolating on a large dresser and the
mouth-watering aroma of newly baked bread and croissants but all Cassia saw was
the painting that had pride of place on one of the walls. She restrained
herself, waiting until Beatriz took her hand and led her across the room till
they were standing right in front of it.
“Now Cassia, that’s my favourite painting in the whole
house. Can you see why?”
Cassia found it hard to speak. Her heart was hammering
with excitement and tears of joy pricked at her eyes. She was always like this
when she came face to face with a painting she loved. She cleared her throat
and was surprised that she managed to sound so calm;
“Tournesols. That’s French for sunflowers Beatriz as
I’m sure you know. This is without doubt one of the first series he did in
Arles. A very, very good one indeed. I thought I’d seen all the Arles sunflower
paintings but obviously not. Sunflowers you see, made him feel happy. He
painted this and the other sunflower paintings to decorate the studio he was
going to share with his friend, another great artist called Paul Gauguin.
“Nothing but big flowers” he was reported to have said.”
“Well it makes me feel happy. I love it. Do you see
how it fills the room with golden light? That must be what the sun
Similar Books
