‘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.’
They nodded.
‘If you’re thirsty, you can pick up something from the bar here or from the one in Piazza Garibaldi, which is near the remains of the Roman temple. There are several little shops, which sell specialities of the region, but they won’t be open till later. I don’t know if you still want to do any shopping, Paula, but you’re probably better hanging on until Assisi tomorrow, if you can.’ She turned and pointed to the fountain. ‘As you can see, the fountain has a couple of water spouts. If you want, you can drink from them, although personally I never drink from a fountain, whatever the sign says.’
Max nodded. ‘I’m with Jenny on that. I’d follow her advice, if I were you.’ The warmth in his voice embraced her.
Suddenly self-conscious, she raised her hand and smoothed down her hair.
‘Where was I?’ she said, trying to get her thoughts back on track. ‘Oh, yes, talking about water. Do try and see the old Roman baths. They’re under a building that’s accessed through a side door. It’s marked on the map. You have to ring the bell at number two, which is the house on the left, and ask the custodian to let you in, but it’s free of charge.’
‘Think I’ll give that a miss. I’ve seen Roman baths before,’ Nick said.
‘That may be,’ Max cut in, ‘but this is the most magnificent sheet of mosaic flooring that I’ve seen anywhere. The details on the sea creatures are quite amazing. A display on one of the walls shows you what the bath would have looked like two thousand years ago and how the Romans would have used it. Believe me, it’s worth a visit.’
‘Howie and I are definitely going to go there before we go anywhere else,’ Paula said quickly. ‘Aren’t we, Howie?’
‘Whatever makes you happy, sweetheart.’
Jenny smiled around at the group. ‘Is there anything anyone wants to ask me?’
They shook their heads.
‘It’s three o’clock now. Why don’t we meet here again at six-thirty? That will give you plenty of time to see all you want, and the shops will have been open for a little while in case you want to have a quick browse through them before we leave. Hopefully, you’ll have managed to fit a drawing in, too. I’ll try to get round to all of you at some point during the afternoon. Well, I see that Carlo’s in position now, so off you go.’
‘And a most attractive position it is, too,’ she heard George remark to Nick, indicating Carlo, who had joined the men sitting in front of the bar.
She turned to Max. The others had gone, and they were completely alone at last. Despite the daunting task ahead of her, she couldn’t help feeling a frisson of excitement.
Chapter Eight
Jenny leaned forward and helped herself to a small tomato bruschetta.
‘I really shouldn’t be eating this,’ she said, popping it into her mouth. ‘I had a very good lunch, and I know what Maria’s got planned for this evening. I’ll be enormous by the time I’m back in England.’
‘I don’t think you’ve anything to worry about,’ Max said warmly. Their eyes met across the table but both immediately looked away. He glanced round the almost-empty square. ‘I had the right idea, bringing you here,’ he said. ‘It’s never as crowded as it is in Silvestri. Paula and Howard will be long gone by now – we were in the shop for quite a while – and if any of the other budding Picassos had thought about venturing all the way across the town, you mentioning a Roman temple in the vicinity is bound to have put them off. I’m sure we’re safe for a bit.’
She laughed. ‘I think you’re being a little hard on them.’
He grinned. ‘Maybe.’
‘But I will admit that not one of them, not even Paula, comes close to having the same degre
e of interest in art and aesthetics as you do, Max. And I’m not just talking about your collection of paintings and the galleries you visit. Look at the care you’re taking over the interior of your house, and it isn’t even your main home. How many other people would bother about the colour and shape of a fruit bowl?’
‘I suppose you’re right. I hadn’t really thought about it, but the family business is textiles, and that requires an eye for colour, texture and design. I guess those interests are in my genes.’ He leaned forward to take a truffle-topped bruschetta.
At the same moment Jenny reached for another tomato one. Their hands touched. Sparks of electricity winged up her bare arm, and she pulled quickly back.
‘Go on,’ he said, pushing the plate towards her. ‘Have another one. If you don’t, I’ll feel guilty about eating so many.’
‘Oh, all right, then.’ Her skin still tingling, she reached for the bruschetta. She bit into it, and stopped – he’d just mentioned his family and she’d almost missed it! It may have only been a passing remark, but this was the opening she’d been waiting for, and she should’ve instantly seen it. What on earth was the matter with her? She must pull herself together, and fast.
She swallowed the mouthful of bruschetta. ‘Are your parents as interested in interior decoration as you are, Max?’ she asked, keeping her voice casual.
‘I’ve never really thought about it. They certainly took great care over the pictures they hung on their walls. They didn’t have a collection as such, though. And not one of us – not me, not my parents, not my brother – was any good at drawing. We’re not creative in that way: just appreciative.’
He’d mentioned Peter, and she couldn’t not build on this.
She felt cold all over. She was going to have to remind him that he’d lost his brother. She hated the idea of doing such a horrible thing, but he might think it strange if she didn’t pick up on the mention of him. And this could be the only chance she’d have to talk about his family. No, she’d no choice but to make the most of it.
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