It was great to see Tad and Amy together, getting along famously if Hugh was any judge. Living in the moment, wasn’t that the modern way?
Although it seemed all was not as rosy in the rest of the Forsythe-Rogers camp. Billie had seemed pleased enough when she snagged a seat beside Tad. And yet the woman now looked like thunder.
Hugh thought it highly likely the fact Tad had all but ignored her through the first course, in favour of Amy, hadn’t helped. But there was something else – Malcolm was also a shadow of his former self. As though someone had told him he had six months to live, and he had to spend them doing something he hated.
‘Is this your version of not beaking into other people’s business?’
‘Whassat?’ Hugh said.
‘You’re so focused on them you didn’t even hear my question, did you?’
‘Question?’
Kathleen frowned, her expression closing down. ‘Never mind. It doesn’t matter.’
‘I’m being terrifically rude, I apologise.’ Hugh said, ‘Ask away. I’m all ears, I promise.’
‘I was wondering if you might take a wander around Riva tomorrow, with me? I thought I would relax and keep it local on my last full day here but I expect you already have plans.’
Hugh pursed his lips. ‘Actually, that sounds absolutely the ticket. How about a stroll around the Museo Alto Garda? It’s part museum, part art gallery and it’s right by the lake.’
‘Have you been there before?’
‘Not for ages.’ The truth was the last time Hugh had crossed the narrow, arched bridge into the fortress had been the last time he’d visited Riva with Brian, before the world-shrinking virus, before Brian had been diagnosed with his illness, before so many life-altering events had knocked the stuffing out of Hugh. The truth was, the last time Hugh had visited that place he’d been happier than he had any way of realising, back then. And maybe it was time to remember that feeling, somehow.
He stared at Kathleen, all bristles and sharp edges and angst from a lifetime of dealing with disappointment and betrayal, her walls far, far higher than his own. He smiled. ‘I’d like to visit again, though.’
‘If you’re sure?’
Distracted momentarily as Matteo flourished his way around their side of the table with plates of main course osso buco, on a bed of saffron mash and accompanied by zesty gremolata, Hugh wafted the aroma of the meat towards his nose and inhaled deeply. Then he sighed and turned to Kathleen.
‘I’m very sure. Let’s go and have some fun, Kathleen. Show these youngsters how to live, eh?’
Kathleen snorted a laugh, but in agreement – at least that was the way in which Hugh chose to interpret the sound – and they settled to the food with Hugh only keeping half an eye on proceedings across the table.
23
By the time the vanilla panna cotta with a fresh raspberry sauce was served, Amy knew something was wrong. She’d wanted nothing more than to lose herself in the fact that Tad was sitting beside her, to make the most of the frisson of his arm brushing against hers. The way his hand strayed to her thigh as he leant in and chatted, his voice quiet enough for the words to be for her ears only, was giving Amy goosebumps. He wasn’t doing or saying anything that would upset the rest of the table, but it was becoming obvious that certain people in the vicinity weren’t happy.
Billie pushed the panna cotta around her plate as though it was a live jellyfish, and Malcolm hadn’t even touched his. Which was absolutely out of character for him.
When Tad excused himself to fetch more raspberry sauce for Ron and Laura, Amy felt duty-bound to lean across and ask Billie what was wrong. She braced herself as Billie pushed her plate away and turned a thunderous expression in Amy’s direction.
‘You’d better ask Malcolm.’ Scraping her chair back, Billie stood. ‘I’m done with this meal – in fact, I’m done with this whole place. I’m going out.’
Amy turned to Malcolm. ‘What’s going on? Should I go after her?’
Malcolm’s eyebrows arched. ‘Do you want to go after her?’
‘Not really, but…’
‘Then don’t. She doesn’t deserve you.’ Malcolm crossed his arms. ‘In fact, that woman doesn’t deserve either of us.’
‘What’s going on, Malc?’ Amy slid across the empty space to be next to him, drawing Billie’s chair back to the table and perching on it as she studied his expression.
‘I tried to speak to her. I tried to explain how I’m feeling about… about so many aspects of my life, and…’ He shook his head. ‘She said she was listening, but it was blatantly obvious she didn’thearme – do you know what I mean?’
‘I think so. What did you want her to hear?’
