Chapters (36)
- Cover
- Also by Catherine Alliott
- Dedication
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- A Message from Catherine
“Very pale blush pink, quite short, with the family tiara at a jaunty angle. There's a photo of her coming out of the family chapel in Venice with Filippo, both roaring with laughter."
Celia gazed at me, rapt. "I've got the most terrific crush."
I smiled. "I know."
I turned to wash the glasses at the sink. I knew, too, that Babs sort of vindicated Celia's rather rootless, nomadic existence: her refusal to find Mr Right. Her attraction to Mr Wrong, to married men, actually, or to introspective loners like the current one, Edward. But I also knew that pitching it low as Celia did, never pitching it too high, stemmed more from a fear of being hurt. And Babs wasn't like that. She wasn't afraid of anyone.
"Come on, let's get the stuff in from the car, then we can go for a swim."
Celia watched as I went outside, still deep in some romantic reverie of a few decades ago. I went back and forth to the car, but when I was halfway up the stairs, she was behind me suddenly and helped me with a heavy case to the landing.
"But do you not look at her sometimes, Flora, and think, for heaven's sake?"
I knew where she was going with this. I turned.
"You mean, for heaven's sake, why am I still metaphorically walking across a desert with a burning cross in my hands? When there are other ways of being, of living, which don't involve a husband and children and all that I envy, aspire to, and once had?"
"Well, I wasn't going to be quite so—"
"Brutal. Yes, I get all that, Celia. And funnily enough, although we're very different people, Babs is an inspiration to me. She's strong, she's brave and I have to force myself to be those things." I paused. Narrowed my eyes contemplatively beyond her. "But she's also a minx. And I have a nasty feeling I've been set up here."
"What d’you mean?"
"I don't know yet. But trust me, I can smell that particular Scarlet Virgin –" I sniffed the air theatrically – "a mile off."
I smiled and sailed back downstairs, past her, through the sitting room and out to the car, for more luggage.