Had it made him happy, I wondered. He had exchanged over thirty years of marriage and the respect of his son for a woman who was old enough to be his daughter and had eyebrows like caterpillars. Perhaps it had. Never mind, it wasn’t my business.
But thinking about it, Jack had made a good point. Why would anyone suspect a sixty-four-year-old woman in a new dress of anything? Particularly one who – I looked down as something brushed against my calf – had forgotten to cut the labels off before she put it on for the first time.
‘I might be an international spy, wanted all over Europe for all sorts of terrible crimes,’ I added. ‘I could be a cold-blooded assassin with loads of guns and explosives and things in my bag in secret compartments.’
He nodded. ‘I suppose you could. But I’m guessing you’re not. And to be honest I wouldn’t claim that too loudly. People get a bit edgy when they hear discussions about guns and explosives these days.’
‘But I might be, so there,’ I repeated firmly, trying not to laugh.
Realising I didn’t have a lot more to say and also that Anna and Harriet were peering over the top of the train seats to see what was going on, I turned and went to sit down again.
12
I was a bit on edge after that, wondering why our paths kept crossing and why even despite a certain unease that I felt, I rather liked him.
Harriet and Anna of course wanted a whispered blow-by-blow account of what he had said and what I had said, which was embarrassing when the man in question was only sitting four rows in front of us.
For a while it was almost like being back on the train going to school, when the three of us would huddle together discussing the spotty boys from the grammar school in the next compartment and giggling about who had looked at whom and the time one of the sixth formers had asked fourteen-year-old Anna out on a date.
Meanwhile, the train left the suburbs of Ventimiglia and headed out along the coast towards the Italian border and Milan.
It was a glorious day, the sky clear and blue through the train windows, which, unlike in England, had been washed and were not smeared with rain and mud. There were delicious views across the shining sea and enticing-looking little bays where the sand was golden and smooth. Occasionally we saw stony breakwaters reaching out into the water, palm trees and apartment blocks with washing strung along the balconies. Roads filled with cars driving on the wrong side, a helicopter heading out towards an island, a marina filled with tightly packed boats, glistening in the sunshine.
The seat was surprisingly comfortable and the carriage only about half full, so after a while I went to stretch my legs and find the loo. Beyond that was a sort of bar, and an open area with a few high lime-green stools set up against the windows. There was the usual delicious aroma of coffee and a glass cabinet filled with unexpectedly fine-looking pastries and filled rolls. We were going to be on the train for over three hours; perhaps this would be a good place to while away some time?
I decided I would go back to my seat and get Anna and Harriet to come back with me and then I could treat us all to coffee and a crispy, sugar-dusted cannolo.
‘So tell me what you really are doing,’ said a voice, and I turned to see Jack Fisher standing a little way away from me.
Annoyingly I could feel myself blushing.
‘I’m not doing anything,’ I said indignantly.
He smiled and the dimple flashed for a moment, rather distractingly.
‘You sound very guilty. Not planning some international espionage?’
‘No, I’m not. Not at the moment. I tend to take the mornings off.’
‘Okay, let’s have coffee, shall we? My treat. And then we can find out why our paths keep crossing against all expectations.’
It was on the tip of my tongue to refuse and explain I needed to go and get my friends, but then at the last moment I didn’t. Perhaps it was because I had managed to remove the tags from my new dress without tearing the material; maybe it was the fact that I liked his dark eyes and the humour I saw in them.
‘Okay,’ I said instead, ‘that would be lovely.’
Within a few minutes we were sitting on the stools drinking excellent coffee and facing the beautiful view of the Mediterranean, which was whizzing past below the railway tracks.
Jack had brought two of the cannoli I had been eyeing up, and he brought them to the narrow bar in front of us on rather insubstantial paper plates. They were smothered in powdered sugar too, which meant eating them was not a very elegant affair. Ordinarily I would have snarfed mine up in a few bites, but because he was there I had to be rather more careful, and instead I took polite little nibbles, hoping there was not too much sugar on my face.
‘I’m a journalist,’ Jack explained at last, ‘and now I write freelance for travel magazines and papers. And I’ve been asked to do this journey for an article. The train service along this route has been recently upgraded, and I’ve been contracted to write a feature about it. So there’s no mystery about why I am here. Now, what about you?’
I dabbed at the powdered sugar on my face and took a sip of coffee.
‘My friends and I are sort of – well, the two of them went Interrailing many years ago, and I wasn’t allowed go with them because my father wouldn’t let me. I had to go and work in the bank, he said – oh, never mind. Anyway, Anna, she’s the one with the red sweatshirt, said now we are all retired, why don’t we do it again. And Harriet, the one with the spiky grey hair, wasn’t keen at first, but then she said yes, and really it’s been a bit much for her because of her knee operation. And anyway, never mind about that either. We are on our way to Milan, obviously, and then we are going to Venice.’
He nodded. ‘And how are you enjoying it? So far I mean. I would be interested to know. It might give me some valuable insight.’
I thought about this, wondering what to say, because, yes, there were bits I was enjoying but also bits I wasn’t.
