Secret Lives by Gabriella Poole

pretending that everything was fine. Cassie wasn’t about to have a row with him in front of everybody. He’d caused her enough embarrassment already.
    ‘Sorry. Not funny. Come and be my muse, then, lovely Cassie?’
    Cassie concentrated hard on sorting the half-squashed tubes in her paintbox. ‘Richard, if it’s OK with you, I’d like to … um … be on my own?’ Taking a deep breath, she managed to glance up and force a smile. ‘I’ve never been here before. It’s pretty amazing. I need to think about it. If you don’t mind.’
    ‘Oh. Of course not.’
    His puzzled disappointment sounded genuine. But, then again, so had all his compliments, and Cassie knew now how much they were worth. For a few seconds Richard hovered, as if expecting her to change her mind, then he wandered away.
    She breathed out a relieved sigh, and turned. Damn . She hadn’t thought Ranjit would still be there. He glanced over in her direction, and their eyes met for a split-second, before the unsmiling Indian turned away.
    Crossly, Cassie got to her feet and walked swiftly in the opposite direction. There were two hours to kill: surely she could find something paintable, since Poldino obviously expected good work from her again. The gardens were not vast, but she had to avoid Ranjit. And Richard. And Jake, who was in a surly mood. And preferably Keiko too … Lordy, her room for manoeuvre was limited.
    When she was certain that she was far enough away from everybody else, Cassie sat down on a low wall and began to draw desultory figures in her sketchbook. It was more fun and a lot more involving than she’d expected, but just as her fascination with the tourists was wearing thin, and the crowds were dwindling, she spotted a little girl in a yellow raincoat holding a bright-blue balloon. That was better.
    The child noticed the attention, made a face. Cassie made one back. A small tongue came out, and so did Cassie’s. Hurriedly sketching the balloon clutched in one fist, Cassie found herself in a face-pulling contest. They were both giggling by the time a parent seized the child’s hand and swept her off towards the gallery.
    Drat. She hadn’t got the collar right: it looked like an Elizabethan ruff. Frustrated, she stared at the gap where the girl had been, and let her eyes wander for the first time in over an hour. They ached from concentrating, so she rubbed them. As her vision cleared, she made out two familiar figures, barely twenty feet away.
    Ranjit and Jake.
    Ranjit had been sitting on a bench, but he had half-risen to confront Jake, who was standing over him. Jake’s posture was aggressive, his expression was twisted with rage, and he was giving Ranjit an earful. Ranjit seemed stunned, as if he’d been caught off guard, and as Jake raised his voice, so did he.
    ‘Jake, would you listen to me, for God’s sake—’
    Cassie stood up, took a few steps towards them. Both their heads snapped round simultaneously. Without a word, Jake turned and stormed off, his feet crunching on the gravel path. Ranjit sat down heavily.
    Cassie hesitated, but something in Ranjit’s expression was so miserable she couldn’t help herself. She sauntered up to him, trying to look casual.
    ‘What was all that about? Artistic differences?’
    With a low groan, he put his face in his hands. Cassie waited, happy to study him. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing golden arms. His hands were beautiful too, and strong, but right now they were white-knuckled and tense.
    ‘Don’t want to talk about it, eh?’
    ‘That’s right.’ He took his hands away from his face and stared after Jake. ‘Just like you, Cassandra.’
    She shrugged, allowing herself a smile, since he wouldn’t see it. His sketchbook was half-open beside him, so she took another sly peek at his face. He still wasn’t looking. Leaning down, she flipped the cover back.
    If she hadn’t gasped, she might have had longer to examine the picture. As it was, he whipped round as fast as