The Art of Deception (Choc Lit)

by Liz Harris

‘If we could take a little peek at your paintings. We’ve seen the ones here, so we guessed you must have others in your house, and we’d love to see them.’ Her words came out in a rush.

  How rude, Jenny thought in annoyance. She glanced at Max’s face, wondering how he’d handle it. They’d gone too far and she wondered if he’d drop the genial exterior and say so.

  Howard took his arm from Paula’s shoulder, looked reprovingly at her, and then glanced apologetically at Max. ‘I’m really sorry, Max. Paula shouldn’t have asked you that – your house is private.’ He turned back to Paula. ‘You know Max’s house is off limits. Nick told us Jenny said that when Stephen offered the use of Max’s internet.’

  Paula gave an embarrassed laugh. ‘Silly me. I forgot. Please, don’t be angry with me, Howie. I’m sorry Max. I seem to be saying all the wrong things this evening.’

  ‘You don’t need to see Max’s paintings,’ Howard went on, as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘There are paintings everywhere you turn in Italy. And as for the internet, we can always use the café in Montefalco when it’s open.’ He turned to Max. ‘Paula knows that perfectly well.’

  ‘How remiss of me,’ Max exclaimed in annoyance. ‘I never got round to sorting out your internet. I meant to have a landline and Wi-Fi installed in this house, too, but in the rush of being ready to open on time, it got overlooked. Of course, you can use my computer. Just ask me whenever you want to come across. And by all means have a look at my pictures at the same time. It’s the least I can do – I’m invading your space every night, after all.’ He smiled at them both.

  Still the even-tempered man, Jenny thought, frowning slightly. No sign of a different sort of man beneath the surface – a man who could drive her father to his death. She really didn’t know what to think. He seemed so different from the man she’d heard about over the years.

  Paula and Howard glanced at each other. ‘That’s very sporting of you, Max; thank you,’ Howard said. ‘I still feel badly that Paula asked you, though.’

  ‘Yes, thank you so much, Max.’ She turned to Howard. ‘Oh, Howie darling! I’m the happiest bride alive.’

  Jenny glanced from Paula, whose face was wreathed in smiles, to Max. His expression was inscrutable. She looked down at her plate, and bit her lip in sudden anxiety and confusion.

  Chapter Seven

  Jenny turned round at the sound of footsteps approaching the table.

  ‘Max,’ she exclaimed, and felt a momentary embarrassment at how pleased she’d sounded at seeing him there. ‘I didn’t expect to see you again until dinner. I thought we’d worn you out this morning and you were going to have a break from us this afternoon.’

  ‘I thought so, too,’ he said, sitting down opposite her, ‘which is why I disappeared at the end of the class. But you get used to having company, and it suddenly felt quite lonely, sitting on my own with my coffee, knowing that you were so close – that all of you were close by – so I decided on the spur of the moment to hitch a lift with you into Bevagna.’ He paused. ‘I hope you don’t mind,’ he added, a trace of awkwardness in his voice.

  A wave of pleasure surged through her at the thought of spending the whole afternoon with him. The degree of pleasure she felt took her quite by surprise. But of course, having more time with him brought her goal that much nearer. No wonder she was delighted.

  ‘Not at all,’ she said, beaming at him. ‘And I know the others won’t mind either. They were saying at lunch how much they were looking forward to seeing you this evening.’

  ‘Which reminds me, Jenny. I didn’t get a chance to ask you this morning, but you looked a bit worried last night. Is everything all right?’

  ‘Everything’s perfect,’ she said quickly. ‘It’s just that Paula seemed to be going a bit over the top – I couldn’t help overhearing – and I was worried you might be bored. I wouldn’t want you to stop coming across to us. That’s to say, none of us would …’

  ‘You needn’t worry on that score. It would take a lot more than Paula to put me off joining you in the day, or at dinner for that matter. I’m enjoying myself far much too much.’

  Relief swept through her, and she felt her tension drain away. Until that moment, she hadn’t realised the strain she’d been under since the evening before, when she’d had to listen to Paula and Howard hassle Max and been unable to do anything about it.

  ‘I’m glad to hear it. You coming to Bevagna is a bonus for us. You’ll be able to add to what I’ve already told the group about the town – you must know it so much better than I do. I read up about it before I came, but I only had time to go there twice in the week before everyone arrived, and that was mainly to work out how to organise today’s visit.’

  ‘You won’t need any help from me, I’m sure. Your handouts this morning covered everything imaginable. I was quite impressed.’

  She laughed. ‘I’ll take that as a compliment. From the short amount of time I’ve spent with you, I’d say that you’re not easily impressed.’

  ‘You make me sound quite formidable,’ he remarked with a grin. ‘Like a bad guy from a Dickensian novel, or a domineering sort of father who demands impossibly high standards from his children.’

  ‘Dickensian?’ She slowly ran her eyes down his face, lingering a moment on his lips. ‘I don’t think so,’ she said lightly. Her look returned to the dark eyes that were gazing at her with open warmth. ‘And certainly not like a domineering father.’

  There was an imperceptible pause on his part. ‘Good. I wouldn’t want to come across as unreachable. I wouldn’t like that at all, Jenny,’ he added quietly.

  Their eyes met across the table, and neither moved for a long moment.

  ‘It’s time I got my things ready for this afternoon,’ she said, and she stood up.

  They stepped off the minibus, crossed a small patch of grass and stared ahead of them at the ancient pink and grey stone bridge which spanned the river flowing around the walled town of Bevagna. Beneath the arch, clear green water reflected the pillared colonnade of the building on the other side.

  ‘Wow,’ Stephen said. ‘That’s some view.’

  ‘The building reflected in the water is the old wash house,’ Jenny told them. ‘When we cross the bridge, you’ll be able to see where the women used to scrub their clothes. There’s a weir there, too. The view from this spot is one of my favourite of the town. I think it’s beautiful.’

  ‘And what a lovely drive that was, Jennifer,’ George said, shaking the stiffness out of his knee. ‘I’m quite astounded by the number of wineries in the short distance we’ve travelled.’

  ‘I know. It’s amazing, isn’t it, not just the number of wineries but the quality of the wine in the area?’ She looked around at the group. ‘Well, welcome to Bevagna. Like most Umbrian towns, Bevagna’s a small Roman town, which also has some medieval remains. Unlike most of the other towns, though, it’s not on a hilltop. Apart from one or two slight dips, it’s all on one level.’

  ‘Thank you, dear lady,’ George murmured.

  They all laughed.

  She pointed towards the stone wall of the car park. ‘We’re going to go up those few steps now and then cross over the bridge and go through the gateway into the town. It’s one of several gateways into Bevagna. Then we’ll walk to the main square, Piazza Silvestri. It won’t take us long as it really is a very small town. It can’t be more than two hundred metres in diameter.’

  ‘That is small,’ Howard exclaimed.

  ‘But there are still lots of things to see, as you know. Several of the most interesting places are in the Piazza Silvestri itself, so you won’t have to go far. Now, you’ve each got the town plan I gave you—’

  ‘Oh, dear, I forgot mine,’ Nick cut in. ‘I’ll have to share yours, Clare.’

  Jenny noticed Stephen turn sharply and glare at Nick. Disappointment clouded Clare’s face, and she glanced surreptitiously at Stephen, who gave her a rueful smile. So that’s the way the land lies, is it, she thought. Good.

/>   ‘I’ll point out one or two places on the way,’ she continued, ‘but for most of the afternoon, it’ll be up to you what you see or don’t see, and what you draw. Don’t forget to allow plenty of time for your picture. As soon as we reach the piazza, we’ll get our bearings, fix a time to regroup and then split up. I’ll give you time to look around, decide what to draw and make a start on it. And after a while, I’ll wander around and see how you’re getting on.’

  ‘Why don’t you give yourself a break and leave that agony till this evening?’ Nick suggested with a grin. ‘Why ruin your afternoon?’

  She smiled. ‘I’ll risk it, Nick, but thanks for your consideration. If you don’t forget what we said about composition and colour this morning, I think you’ll all be pleasantly surprised by what you achieve and I’ll be in for a treat this evening. We all will.’

  ‘We’ll do our best, won’t we, Howie?’ Paula gave a little laugh and looked round at the others.

  ‘Right, if you’re ready,’ Jenny said, ‘we can set off.’

  ‘What about our easels and things?’ Clare asked as they started to move.

  ‘Carlo’s bringing them to the piazza for us.’ They turned in unison and looked at Carlo, who was in the middle of taking a small pull-cart from the back of the minibus. ‘Come on, then, off we go,’ she said, and she turned to lead the way up the steps to the bridge.

  As she started to walk across, followed by the group, she saw Paula grab Howard’s hand and start to pull him towards Max. Damn, she thought.

  But Max moved more quickly than Paula, and a moment later, he was walking at Jenny’s side, a short distance ahead of the group.

  ‘That was a close thing,’ he muttered, wiping his forehead in mock relief.

  She laughed. ‘So you saw what Paula was up to, did you? So did I. I’m beginning to think that the Andersons are the sort of people who like to be friends with the boss, so to speak. They certainly seem to be obsessed with you,’ she added as they reached the other side of the bridge.

  ‘I reckon you’re right. Every time I turn round, I’m in danger of tripping over one of them or both.’

  ‘And that still didn’t put you off coming this afternoon?’

  ‘Not at all. I felt like having some company and I love the town. Compact though it is, you come across something new on every visit. But I must confess, I do have an ulterior motive, one that I didn’t tell you about earlier.’

  ‘You do?’ Suddenly nervous about what he was going to say, she drew in a deep breath, and held it.

  He nodded. ‘I’ve ordered a fruit bowl from a man who has a shop here. He sculptures glass and his work is outstanding. I wanted a particular shade of sea green and I knew the exact shape it should be. He said he’d make it for me, and apparently it’s ready now. I thought I could collect it today and have a look round his showroom at the same time. It’s only small.’

  She released her breath, and smiled at him. ‘That’s a lot of thought to put into a fruit bowl. I hope the finished product lives up to your expectations.’

  ‘Why don’t you come with me and see if it does? After all, getting to know you better was another reason for coming today,’ he added lightly.

  She opened her mouth to say that she’d better not go with him, but nothing came out.

  ‘And don’t say that you’ve got to stay near the others,’ he cut in quickly. ‘As you said, it’s a tiny town. You couldn’t be far from them at any time even if you wanted to, and it’ll be ages before they do any painting. We could go to the glass shop and then have a drink in one of the piazzas. I often go to a place in Piazza Garibaldi and sit on the terrace there. I’d enjoy talking to you about some of the things you’ve seen while you’ve been here. I seldom get the chance to discuss anything artistic with someone who knows what they’re talking about.’

  ‘What about the people you buy your pictures from?’

  ‘That’s different: they’re professionals. I was talking about ordinary people.’

  ‘Flatter me, why don’t you?’ she laughed.

  He grinned at her. ‘You know what I mean. And then after our drink, you can go off and survey the endeavours of all while I have a crack at doing a picture myself. I’m going to draw one of the gargoyles over the main doorway of the Church of San Michele Arcangelo. They’re quite striking. So, how about the fruit bowl followed by a drink?’

  ‘It sounds fun. Thank you, I’d love to come along with you.’

  ‘Great.’ She heard genuine pleasure in his voice and she turned towards him at the same moment as he glanced at her. Their steps slowed, and they stopped in the large open space on the other side of the bridge, facing each other.

  She felt a sudden overwhelming desire to touch his face, to run her hand lightly down his cheek, to feel his skin beneath her fingertips. She wanted to look away – knew she must look away – but she was powerless to do so. She couldn’t stop herself: her eyes slowly traced his laughter lines, his nose, the slight cleft in his chin. A lock of hair fell over his forehead. He raised his hand to push it back, and she breathed in the citrus tang of fresh shampoo. Her gaze returned to his mouth, and her lips fell slightly apart.

  ‘Jenny,’ he said, his voice so low that she wasn’t even sure that she’d heard him right.

  Dragging her eyes from his face, she forced herself to turn back to the path ahead and start walking again, moving swiftly to get ahead of him.

  She must stop herself from thinking about him that way, she thought in a panic, her heart pounding fast. If she didn’t, she’d send out the wrong signals. And they would be the wrong signals – they had to be.

  Being friends with him was part of the plan, but no more than friends. And not real friends at that. This was all a charade, a way of getting him to open up. It couldn’t ever be anything else – not with one of the men responsible for her father’s death. Whatever her body was telling her, it was something that couldn’t be. Not with him.

  She felt like bursting into tears.

  She walked faster and saw the piazza ahead of her.

  ‘We’re almost there now,’ she called back to him, her voice strange to her ears.

  He caught up with her. She glanced quickly at him, and saw confusion in his eyes.

  ‘I’m sorry I ran off,’ she said with an awkward smile. ‘I want to try and get us a spot by the fountain. It can get quite busy,’ she added lamely.

  ‘If you think so,’ he said. He sounded unsure.

  ‘I do. It’s only sensible.’ They both fell silent.

  ‘I’ve a pretty good idea what George will choose to draw,’ Max said after a few moments. ‘In fact, I’d put money on it.’ His voice took on a note of amusement.

  She smiled at him, hugely relieved that they seemed to have returned to their normal banter. ‘What do you think he’ll do, then?’

  ‘The frieze above the door of the Church of San Silvestro. There’s a small mountain which has got four streams on it and a growing vine. I bet he focuses on the vine. It’s meant to represent the Church or God, but I doubt that our George will be thinking about its symbolic interpretation.’

  She giggled. ‘I don’t think I should be listening to this.’

  ‘Don’t get me wrong, he’s a really nice man, and I very much enjoyed talking to him at coffee this morning. But I’m not sure that his heightened colour can be put down to spiritual fervour, despite the fact that we’re surrounded by churches and museums replete with religious paintings.’

  Laughing, she glanced back at the group. Seeing that the others were dawdling and were still some way behind them, she stopped walking. ‘We’d better wait a moment. We’re almost there and I haven’t pointed out a single thing so far.’

  ‘Come on; they’ll be fine. After all, they’ve got a map. We’ll wait for them when we get to the square. To be honest, I’m enjoying being able to talk to you without anyone interrupting us.’

  It was a sentiment they shared, she thought. But for different reasons. She felt a wave
of regret start to wash over her again, and she swallowed hard. She must keep her focus on how to profit from her time alone with him, and not on how much she was enjoying talking to him and being with him. Yes, he was great company and he clearly had a good sense of humour – the sexiest characteristic a man could have, she’d always thought – but having fun wasn’t the reason she was there.

  Originally, she’d thought that him coming across in the evenings would give her enough time to get to know him. But it hadn’t worked out like that. The others all wanted to speak to him, too, and he obliged them all. In fact, she spoke to him less than to anyone else at dinner. But the week was flying by at a frightening speed. This afternoon in Bevagna was the best quality time she’d had with him so far, and she couldn’t afford to waste a precious second of it.

  ‘Fortunately, your fears of a large crowd around the fountain haven’t materialised,’ Max remarked, breaking into her thoughts as they reached the Piazza Silvestri and went across to the fountain to wait for the others.

  ‘Fortunately, you’re right,’ she said, looking around.

  After a moment or two of silence, he glanced down at her. ‘Perhaps I shouldn’t have told you that I was enjoying talking to you. It seems to have been a real conversation killer. You’ve been miles away ever since I said that.’

  She gave an awkward laugh. ‘Oh, I’m sorry. I’ve been mentally rehearsing what to say to the class before I send them off to have a look around. I thought I ought to remind them what there is to see.’

  ‘As I said before, they’ve got a map. Ah, here they are. And no surprises who’s first.’

  ‘What a pretty little town this is,’ Paula enthused as she and Howard came up to them. ‘It’s so very sweet. We just couldn’t help stopping and looking at everything.’

  Clare, Stephen and Nick followed close behind them, with George only a short distance away.

  When he’d reached them, they all gathered around Jenny.

  ‘Before we go our separate ways,’ she said, ‘there are just a couple of things to tell you. Carlo will be staying in front of the bar over there. He’ll have your painting equipment with him.’ She pointed to a small bar on the corner of the square, outside of which a few men were sitting on colourful upright chairs. ‘When you’ve seen all you want to see and are ready to start drawing, come and collect your things from him.’