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‘Patrick!’
‘It’s good to see you again, Rae!’ he said, taking her hands and looking down at her, smiling back.
Antonia watched with intensity, noting every expression, every tone of voice, the vibes between them making her nerves jangle. She wished she knew exactly how Patrick felt about Rae; that he liked her was only too apparent. But precisely how did he like her? As a friend? Or was there more than that in it? He had worked with Rae long before his engagement was broken off. Had his relationship with Rae had anything to do with the ending of that engagement? Had Laura Grainger been jealous of Rae? Antonia wished she knew the answers to all the questions buzzing around her head.
Alex Holtner said cheerfully, ‘Let’s all go out to celebrate. Do you have a favourite restaurant here, Rae? Or will you let us choose?’
Rae broke off her eager chatting with Patrick to look round. ‘Actually, I do have a favourite place—Antico Martini—’
‘It’s ours too! When we feel rich enough to afford it,’ Susan-Jane interrupted, laughing.
‘I’m paying,’ Rae promptly said.
‘Oh...no...I didn’t mean...that wasn’t a hint, just a joke! Of course we’re paying!’ Susan-Jane said, going pink with embarrassment.
‘Next time you can pay, and choose where we go,’ said Rae. ‘But let me foot the bill this time, a little thank-you for inviting me here!’ She smiled in a friendly way, but Antonia, watching her, saw that under the fine delicacy of her features there was great strength in her face, an insistence and certainty that she must get her own way.
Rae Dunhill was a strong woman. Was she the sort of woman Patrick wanted?
‘Oh, well, then, thank you,’ Susan-Jane said, gracefully shrugging. ‘But at this late hour I doubt if we can get a table.’
Alex Holtner walked over to the phone. ‘We can soon find out. I’ll ring and ask if they have a table for five.’
‘Four,’ Antonia quickly said, and everyone looked at her. ‘I promised to be in this evening; Cy is ringing from the States.’
‘Oh, what a pity,’ Rae Dunhill said politely. ‘I was looking forward to getting to know you better.’
‘He could always ring again later,’ Patrick curtly said.
‘Yes, but I have a headache, too,’ Antonia lied. ‘It’s been so hot here for the last few days.’
‘Yes, it is sultry weather.’ Rae Dunhill came to her rescue, but that didn’t make Antonia like her any better. ‘It was raining in London when we left. You are looking rather pale, you poor girl—maybe you had better go to bed?’
‘I think I will; Cy won’t ring for another hour or so,’ Antonia said, avoiding meeting the stiletto probe of Patrick’s stare. ‘I hope you all have a lovely evening.’
In her room she undressed and put on a blue-striped satin nightshirt, then sat on her bed, doing her nails, and listening to music to drown the sound of voices and laughter downstairs. She didn’t want to hear Patrick sounding so happy or Rae Dunhill sounding triumphant.
She heard them leave, but they didn’t get back until nearly two. It was a suffocatingly hot night, and she was wide awake, her nerves stretched to breaking-point. Alex and Susan-Jane came upstairs at once, but it was another hour before the other two made their way to bed.
Antonia heard Patrick’s voice—warm, intimate, murmuring something she didn’t catch—heard Rae laugh softly. Stairs creaked as someone made their way to the top floor. Alone? wondered Antonia, and rolled on to her front, buried her face in her pillow. She did not want to hear them talking to each other, nor anything else they might do together.
Over the days that followed she managed to stay at the palazzo as much as possible, so that she saw very little of Rae Dunhill, and even less of Patrick.
That the two of them had come to an agreement, that Patrick was to work with Rae on her books again, she did know, from Uncle Alex, who was very pleased about the outcome of his manipulation.
‘You see, all they needed was to be brought together! They were both being stubborn and proud; they wouldn’t get together of their own accord. They make a perfect pair, though; they suit each other down to the ground. I’m glad I managed to make them see sense.’
A few days later, Rae moved out of the pink house and moved on to Florence again. She left very early one morning, before anybody else was up, except Antonia, who was in the kitchen getting herself some coffee and fruit when Rae walked in with her case.
‘I’m just off, Antonia,’ Rae said, watching her peel a peach, and Antonia gave her a startled look, not having been aware that Rae was leaving so soon.
‘There’s plenty of coffee and some fresh rolls which I just got from the bakery round the corner,’ she offered, but Rae shook her head.
‘No, thanks, I’ll get something at the airport. I said goodbye to everyone else last night; I’m sorry I haven’t seen more of you while I was here, but you must come and stay with me in Florence some time.’
‘Thank you,’ Antonia said in cool courtesy. ‘Have a safe trip.’
‘Give Patrick my love when he gets up,’ Rae said, smiling.
