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Corso.
He was intervening on her behalf, just as he’d provided the money for her mother’s new home. Rosie’s fingers were shaking as she put down one of the letters and, several days later, she went along to the prestigious Brian Allen Institute, where her interview went much better than she could ever have imagined.
‘We’d like to offer you a job,’ said the owner of the famous art gallery.
‘Honestly?’
His kind and clever face relaxed into a smile. ‘Honestly,’ he affirmed. ‘If you’d like to accept it?’
‘Oh, yes, I would,’ said Rosie hastily. ‘Yes, please.’
Using her concessionary railcard, she took the train back to Reading and worked out what she would say in her resignation letter to her manager, who had always been so kind to her. She would wait until she was properly settled in her new role and then she could send Corso a beautiful postcard, thanking him for everything he had done—diplomatically avoiding the subject of their brief affair, which in retrospect, should have been avoided. She would choose an old master painting on very expensive card and it would bear a carefully constructed message, which was light and witty, without seeming in the least bit bitter, or resentful.
She would have to choose the time of writing very carefully, of course.
It would be a terrible give-away if the words on her carefully chosen postcard were obliterated by tears.
