Amy slipped into the chair beside her. ‘Are you OK?’ she asked.
‘You’ve seen it, then?’ Billie said.
‘I’ve seen it,’ Amy replied. ‘Did you know?’
‘Know what? That the love of my life no longer loves me? That people think I’m such a hard bitch they can say what they like about me, and I won’t feel it? Did you see the one comparing me and her? Apparently, she’s two dress sizes smaller than me. And ten years younger. She’s far more beautiful, they said – went as far as to say it was inevitable that Kelly would leave me eventually. What did I expect – that a global star would settle for a provincial food critic like me? Thosebastards…’ She spat out the last word with vitriol.
Amy frowned. ‘I don’t think I saw that one.’
She had seen that post, and it wasn’t the worst by a long chalk, but she wasn’t about to say so.
‘There’s no loyalty in the press, or on the socials. After everything I’ve done – everything I do is aimed at entertaining people, and now they’re turning on me like I’m some fat, ancient has-been they can throw under the nearest bus.’
Billie kept her voice low, her gaze darting around the room. Amy couldn’t work out if she was relieved the rest of the guests were focusing on their food rather than her or was annoyed by their apparent lack of interest.
‘Ah well, you know what they say – today’s newspaper makes for tomorrow’s fish and chip wrappings. It’ll all be forgotten in no time,’ Malcolm said, which Amy felt was a spectacularly unhelpful comment.
Billie rounded on him, her voice low, her anger quick and hissy as she said, ‘Rather like you, then, Malcolm – and when did anybody last wrap fish and chips in newspaper? You are showing your age, aren’t you?’
‘I was trying to help put things into perspective.’
‘Well don’t. How about you help by shutting up? People talk about our relationship as though it was some kind of a soap opera for public entertainment. Everyone thinks we don’t notice the constant comparisons and commentary. That they have the right to discuss us like they do the football results. And no, before you ask, I didn’t know anything about him and the child of Dracula. Have youseenher? She’s so thin and pale you can almost see through her…’
Billie rattled her cup onto its saucer and huffed a huge sigh. She shot a dagger of a gaze at Malcolm, before gripping Amy’s arm.
‘At least I have you to rely on, Amelia. The sooner this trip is over, the better. I’ve decided this place is my kryptonite – ever since I set foot here my life has done nothing but disintegrate.’
Amy swallowed. She wanted to scream at Billie, to tell her everything she’d said about people’s feelings cut both ways and the position she had placed Amy in was intolerable. But how could she say any of it without igniting Billie’s blue touch paper? For want of knowing what to do for the best, Amy hated her own weakness as she said nothing.
* * *
Tad was scraping leftover jam from a small bowl when Clare popped her head around the door.
‘Hey there,’ she said, her smile soft and warm.
Tad abandoned the bowl to the soapy water and wiped his hands as Clare crossed the space between them. ‘You OK?’
‘Yes. I wanted to say I’m going to skip today’s lesson – James is taking me to visit Limone del Garda. I said we could go this afternoon, but apparently it looks stunning in the morning light. He’s got the whole day planned.’
Tad stopped himself from mentioning the picnic for which James had asked him to prepare food. He assumed it remained a surprise.
‘That’s no problem – have a great time.’
‘Lots of beautiful old orangeries and vineyards to see,’ she said. ‘To be honest, I don’t care so long as I’m spending time with James. The others still intend on taking the lesson, I believe.’
‘OK. Thanks for letting me know.’
Clare frowned. ‘Are you all right? You seem a bit quiet this morning.’
Tad shrugged.
‘How are things with the gorgeous Amy? It was impossible to miss the two of you sat together at dinner last night.’ Clare grinned. ‘I remember when it was first like that with James, that brilliant bit when you’re so aware of every movement, every touch. I never thought I’d feel it again – and now it’s your turn. I’m so pleased for?—’
‘You’ve got it wrong, Clare.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘It was nothing. A moment in time, that’s all. Nothing’s going to come of it.’
