SIX
T HEY flew to Italy three days later.
Flora had hardly had time to draw breath, let alone seriously question what she was doing.
She’d managed to reschedule the majority of her appointments. Only a few had taken umbrage and declared they would approach another company. So it seemed she would have a career to come back to when the bubble burst. As it surely would.
And, after an initial panic, Melanie had decided to enjoy being in charge for a short time, and was blooming under her new responsibilities.
One of the tasks Flora had considered essential had been to collect her engagement ring from the jeweller’s and have it messengered over to Chris. So far he’d made no attempt to contact her, either at home or work, and she’d been thankful. But after that she’d expected an angry response, and had been surprised and relieved when there was only continuing silence.
Her mother, of course, had not been so reticent. Flora had called her reluctantly, to explain why she would not be available for the next couple of weeks, and had walked into another barrage of criticism and recrimination.
She was an embarrassment. She was ungrateful. She’d caused untold trouble and inconvenience over the wedding arrangements.
‘And now you’re actually going to Italy with this man.’ Mrs Hunt’s voice rose shrilly. ‘Have you lost all sense of decency? My God, Flora, you know nothing about him. Why, he could be in the Mafia!’
Flora sighed. ‘I don’t think so, Mother,’ she said with a touch of weariness. ‘He’s an accountant.’
‘Well, that means nothing,’ her mother said peevishly. ‘They need people like him to—launder their money. I can’t believe your behaviour, Flora,’ she added. ‘First you indulge in a sordid affair, and hurt your fiancé deeply. Now you could be mixing with criminals. You’ve disgraced us all, and I wash my hands of you.’
Flora bit her lip. ‘Goodbye, Mother.’ She spoke with resignation. ‘I’ll call you when I come back.’
‘ If you come back,’ Mrs Hunt said ominously.
I’m glad I didn’t mention Marco worked for a pharmaceutical outfit, Flora thought as she put the phone down, or she’d have said he was a drug dealer.
She decided to cheer herself with some retail therapy. However this stay in Italy turned out, it would be her first holiday in a considerable while. She had been too busy establishing her business to have time for overseas breaks.
For her honeymoon, of course, she’d have made an exception, she thought with a wintry smile.
But her wardrobe was seriously short of leisure gear, and she made a lightning raid on Kensington High Street to see what was available. There was some glamorous swimwear on offer, and she took her pick, choosing filmy sarongs and overshirts to go with her selection.
She packed with discrimination, reminding herself that she was packing for two weeks’ holiday only—not a lifetime.
Now that the moment of departure was approaching, her nerves were bunching into knots.
She was stingingly aware that she’d hardly seen anything of Marco in the past forty-eight hours, although he had telephoned her several times. But he hadn’t been round in person and there’d been no suggestion that he wished to spend the night with her.
And she missed him like hell.
All these years, she reflected wryly, she’d slept alone in her own bed, tranquil and untroubled.
Now, after those few brief hours in his arms, she was restless, forever reaching for him in the darkness and finding only an empty space beside her.
The words Will I see you tonight? had trembled on her lips more than once as they’d spoken on the phone, but she hadn’t dared utter them.
Perhaps he was having serious second thoughts, she mused, wincing, and she would get a last-minute phone call making an excuse to withdraw his invitation.
If so, she decided proudly, she would be round to the nearest travel agent for a last-minute deal—anywhere but Italy.
She
T HEY flew to Italy three days later.
Flora had hardly had time to draw breath, let alone seriously question what she was doing.
She’d managed to reschedule the majority of her appointments. Only a few had taken umbrage and declared they would approach another company. So it seemed she would have a career to come back to when the bubble burst. As it surely would.
And, after an initial panic, Melanie had decided to enjoy being in charge for a short time, and was blooming under her new responsibilities.
One of the tasks Flora had considered essential had been to collect her engagement ring from the jeweller’s and have it messengered over to Chris. So far he’d made no attempt to contact her, either at home or work, and she’d been thankful. But after that she’d expected an angry response, and had been surprised and relieved when there was only continuing silence.
Her mother, of course, had not been so reticent. Flora had called her reluctantly, to explain why she would not be available for the next couple of weeks, and had walked into another barrage of criticism and recrimination.
She was an embarrassment. She was ungrateful. She’d caused untold trouble and inconvenience over the wedding arrangements.
‘And now you’re actually going to Italy with this man.’ Mrs Hunt’s voice rose shrilly. ‘Have you lost all sense of decency? My God, Flora, you know nothing about him. Why, he could be in the Mafia!’
Flora sighed. ‘I don’t think so, Mother,’ she said with a touch of weariness. ‘He’s an accountant.’
‘Well, that means nothing,’ her mother said peevishly. ‘They need people like him to—launder their money. I can’t believe your behaviour, Flora,’ she added. ‘First you indulge in a sordid affair, and hurt your fiancé deeply. Now you could be mixing with criminals. You’ve disgraced us all, and I wash my hands of you.’
Flora bit her lip. ‘Goodbye, Mother.’ She spoke with resignation. ‘I’ll call you when I come back.’
‘ If you come back,’ Mrs Hunt said ominously.
I’m glad I didn’t mention Marco worked for a pharmaceutical outfit, Flora thought as she put the phone down, or she’d have said he was a drug dealer.
She decided to cheer herself with some retail therapy. However this stay in Italy turned out, it would be her first holiday in a considerable while. She had been too busy establishing her business to have time for overseas breaks.
For her honeymoon, of course, she’d have made an exception, she thought with a wintry smile.
But her wardrobe was seriously short of leisure gear, and she made a lightning raid on Kensington High Street to see what was available. There was some glamorous swimwear on offer, and she took her pick, choosing filmy sarongs and overshirts to go with her selection.
She packed with discrimination, reminding herself that she was packing for two weeks’ holiday only—not a lifetime.
Now that the moment of departure was approaching, her nerves were bunching into knots.
She was stingingly aware that she’d hardly seen anything of Marco in the past forty-eight hours, although he had telephoned her several times. But he hadn’t been round in person and there’d been no suggestion that he wished to spend the night with her.
And she missed him like hell.
All these years, she reflected wryly, she’d slept alone in her own bed, tranquil and untroubled.
Now, after those few brief hours in his arms, she was restless, forever reaching for him in the darkness and finding only an empty space beside her.
The words Will I see you tonight? had trembled on her lips more than once as they’d spoken on the phone, but she hadn’t dared utter them.
Perhaps he was having serious second thoughts, she mused, wincing, and she would get a last-minute phone call making an excuse to withdraw his invitation.
If so, she decided proudly, she would be round to the nearest travel agent for a last-minute deal—anywhere but Italy.
She
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