briefly of ways she might mitigate her remark, decided not to bother since anything else would probably make it worse.
‘I want to go back to the Alyscamps,’ Joe said. ‘There are a couple of things I want to check.’
She felt mildly disappointed: she’d have preferred to look at something new. He can go on his own, she thought, I’ll take the morning off from being a research assistant and be a tourist instead.
‘Will you need anyone with you?’ Adam asked, catching her eye as if he’d been thinking along similar lines. ‘I only ask because, if not, Beth might like to come out with me — I’m going back to Avignon to try to record an ancient toothless gipsy woman singing what I fervently hope will turn out to be a Russian love song. I was going to ask both of you,’ he added earnestly, ‘only if Joe has to retrace his steps and revisit one of yesterday’s places ...’ He left the sentence unfinished. Beth suppressed a smile — he’d virtually made it impossible for Joe to ask her to go with him without sounding unreasonable.
‘No, I’ll go on my own.’ His tone was neutral.
‘In that case I’ll go with Adam.’ She got up, collecting the mugs and plates. ‘Strictly speaking it’s your turn to wash up, Joe, but I suppose if you’re engrossed I could do it for you.’
‘I’ll help.’ Adam collected the remaining crockery. ‘The sooner we get going, the sooner the work’ll be finished and we can break for lunch.’
You sound, she thought as she ran hot water into the bowl, like my kind of man.
*
They reached Avignon after what seemed a very short time, but then, Beth thought, journeys do pass quickly when you’re talking. Adam, she’d learned, came from Northumberland, where, having travelled extensively after university, he was once more living, within sight of Hadrian’s Wall ‘on a clear day’. He had a cat called Barty, whom a neighbour took care of when Adam was away. He didn’t mention a wife or any other sort of permanent companion, and Beth didn’t like to ask. In return, she told him about selling folding bicycles and being a temp: there will, she thought, be a time to tell him the rest. I hope.
He appeared to know his way around the town, and drove confidently through narrow traffic-choked streets to an underground car park.
‘Well done!’ she exclaimed as he nipped into a small space, effectively stopping the queue-jumping ambitions of a pushy Frenchman in a rusty Renault.
‘It was nothing,’ he said modestly. ‘Getting into the Palais des Papes car park is the easy bit — getting out again can be tricky, even assuming you’ve managed to locate your car in the first place.’
‘We’ll manage,’ she said confidently.
They went up some steps that led into the great square in front of the ancient Popes’ Palace. She’d have liked to stop and look and, as if realizing, he said, ‘We can have a wander round now, if you like, or you can if you don’t want to come with me. Only I’m due to see this old Romany woman at midday, so I ought to go.’
‘I’ll come with you,’ she said. ‘If you don’t think my presence will inhibit her.’
‘From what I saw the other day, she wouldn’t be inhibited by a company of marines.’ He grinned at her. ‘It’s only fair to warn you.’
*
The gipsy woman lived with someone who seemed to be her daughter in a poky flat in the back streets, its small amount of space crowded by huge displays of plastic flowers and a large doll under a glass dome. The doll had bulbous blue eyes and an expression so vacuous that it was almost sinister: Beth sat down with her back to it.
The daughter, herself at least seventy, blundered about putting glasses and a bottle of something dark red and syrupy-looking on a tray, until her mother bellowed at her to stop. Adam said something in French, at which the old woman composed herself, sitting up straight and folding her hands in her lap. Adam produced a small tape recorder from his
‘I want to go back to the Alyscamps,’ Joe said. ‘There are a couple of things I want to check.’
She felt mildly disappointed: she’d have preferred to look at something new. He can go on his own, she thought, I’ll take the morning off from being a research assistant and be a tourist instead.
‘Will you need anyone with you?’ Adam asked, catching her eye as if he’d been thinking along similar lines. ‘I only ask because, if not, Beth might like to come out with me — I’m going back to Avignon to try to record an ancient toothless gipsy woman singing what I fervently hope will turn out to be a Russian love song. I was going to ask both of you,’ he added earnestly, ‘only if Joe has to retrace his steps and revisit one of yesterday’s places ...’ He left the sentence unfinished. Beth suppressed a smile — he’d virtually made it impossible for Joe to ask her to go with him without sounding unreasonable.
‘No, I’ll go on my own.’ His tone was neutral.
‘In that case I’ll go with Adam.’ She got up, collecting the mugs and plates. ‘Strictly speaking it’s your turn to wash up, Joe, but I suppose if you’re engrossed I could do it for you.’
‘I’ll help.’ Adam collected the remaining crockery. ‘The sooner we get going, the sooner the work’ll be finished and we can break for lunch.’
You sound, she thought as she ran hot water into the bowl, like my kind of man.
*
They reached Avignon after what seemed a very short time, but then, Beth thought, journeys do pass quickly when you’re talking. Adam, she’d learned, came from Northumberland, where, having travelled extensively after university, he was once more living, within sight of Hadrian’s Wall ‘on a clear day’. He had a cat called Barty, whom a neighbour took care of when Adam was away. He didn’t mention a wife or any other sort of permanent companion, and Beth didn’t like to ask. In return, she told him about selling folding bicycles and being a temp: there will, she thought, be a time to tell him the rest. I hope.
He appeared to know his way around the town, and drove confidently through narrow traffic-choked streets to an underground car park.
‘Well done!’ she exclaimed as he nipped into a small space, effectively stopping the queue-jumping ambitions of a pushy Frenchman in a rusty Renault.
‘It was nothing,’ he said modestly. ‘Getting into the Palais des Papes car park is the easy bit — getting out again can be tricky, even assuming you’ve managed to locate your car in the first place.’
‘We’ll manage,’ she said confidently.
They went up some steps that led into the great square in front of the ancient Popes’ Palace. She’d have liked to stop and look and, as if realizing, he said, ‘We can have a wander round now, if you like, or you can if you don’t want to come with me. Only I’m due to see this old Romany woman at midday, so I ought to go.’
‘I’ll come with you,’ she said. ‘If you don’t think my presence will inhibit her.’
‘From what I saw the other day, she wouldn’t be inhibited by a company of marines.’ He grinned at her. ‘It’s only fair to warn you.’
*
The gipsy woman lived with someone who seemed to be her daughter in a poky flat in the back streets, its small amount of space crowded by huge displays of plastic flowers and a large doll under a glass dome. The doll had bulbous blue eyes and an expression so vacuous that it was almost sinister: Beth sat down with her back to it.
The daughter, herself at least seventy, blundered about putting glasses and a bottle of something dark red and syrupy-looking on a tray, until her mother bellowed at her to stop. Adam said something in French, at which the old woman composed herself, sitting up straight and folding her hands in her lap. Adam produced a small tape recorder from his
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