A Venetian Affair. Lucy Gordon

treatment.’

      ‘A good thing he doesn’t know just how special your treatment was!’ she retorted.

      There was silence for a moment. ‘It was special to me,’ said Domenico wearily. ‘The so-practical Miss Green will find this hard to understand. After I spent time with you that first evening I kept my identity from you because I am a romantic fool. I wanted to be liked for myself for once, not because I am cousin to Lorenzo and Roberto, or because I am in charge of the Venice hotels in the Forli Group. I would have told you everything over breakfast this morning, but a guest at the hotel needed urgent medical attention and I do not delegate such matters to others.’

      ‘I can understand that—’

      ‘Ottimo! Then understand this, too, Laura. I thought of a way to pay part of your hotel bill because I cared for you and wished to ease your financial situation.’ His voice hardened. ‘But if obligation to me is so intolerable the remedy is simple—send me the money. Arrivederci.’

      ‘Domenico—’ But he’d disconnected before she could say a word. She waited for a minute, then rang him back, but he’d switched his phone off. And, she realised miserably, he’d used the past tense about caring for her.

      When she felt able to talk about it without crying her eyes out Laura went to her mother’s room to tell her the sad tale.

      Isabel Green heard her out in silence. ‘Darling,’ she said gently at last, ‘you really must learn to accept some things in the spirit they are given.’

      ‘But not money, Mother!’

      ‘But if you didn’t know that Domenico paid it until now, it’s obvious he didn’t expect anything in return.’

      ‘I know.’

      ‘Then why all the drama?’

      Laura raised wet eyes to her mother. ‘Because I’m in love with him, or at least with the man I thought he was.’

      ‘And what exactly did you think he was?’

      ‘Someone who merely worked in a hotel—not owned the damn thing! It was obvious he wasn’t short of money from his apartment and the way he dresses, but I assumed he had some management job, or whatever. If I’d known the truth I’d have kept my stupid mouth shut.’

      ‘About what?’

      ‘Domenico was so insistent that I go back to Venice soon, I had to explain why I couldn’t. I gave him chapter and verse about keeping to a tight budget.’

      ‘Did you include the bit about helping with Abby’s college fund?’

      ‘Oh, yes. The complete sob story.’ Laura’s mouth twisted in disgust. ‘When I found he’d paid some of my bill I felt as though I’d been hinting for a handout.’

      ‘Is he in love with you?’

      ‘He said he was. But I doubt that he is any more. He’s a typical Venetian male—proud as the devil, and takes offence easily.’

      ‘You two have a lot in common, then,’ said Isabel, lips twitching.

      Laura stared at her mother, incensed, for a moment, but at last smiled reluctantly. ‘Am I so bad, then?’

      ‘Not bad—independent. You’ve had this bee in your bonnet about being the man of the house since you were ten years old.’ Isabel patted her hand. ‘Relax, darling. Things are different now. You don’t need to help with Abby any more. Apart from my windfall, I’m still only forty-seven, remember. I can carry on teaching for quite a while yet.’

      ‘I just wish you didn’t have to.’

      ‘But, darling, I love my job. What would I do with myself all day in this doll’s house if I didn’t work?’

      Laura stared at her mother, taken aback. ‘I never thought of it like that. I assumed you went back to teaching because you had to.’

      ‘I did. But I’m fortunate, because it’s a vocation for me, not just a job. It helped me through that terrible time after your father died, and because I was lucky enough to get a place at the village school I was always there for you and Abby—with a little help in the babysitting department from Grandma.’

      The mention of her much-mourned grandmother was the last straw. Laura laid her head down on the bed, sobbing her heart out, and Isabel stroked her hair in silence until the storm had run its course.

      ‘Sorry about that,’ Laura said hoarsely as she got up at last.

      Isabel looked troubled. ‘If you really care for this man, can’t you mend things between you?’

      ‘I might have tried if he’d just been a hotel employee, but not now. Gian Domenico Chiesa is right out of my league. Don’t worry. I’ll just write off the experience as a holiday romance and forget about him.’

      ‘Can you do that?’ said her mother gently.

      Laura shrugged. ‘I’ll have to. And in the meantime there’s Fen’s hen party to get through tomorrow night. That should chase the blues away!’

      Abby backed into the room with a tray early next morning. ‘Room service! Hi, sis. Welcome home. Sorry to wake you up, but I just dashed home for a clean apron. I’m off to work again in an hour.’

      Laura heaved herself up, smiling at her sibling as she received the tray. In spite of working the day before and partying well into the night Abby looked as fresh as a daisy. ‘Hello, love! Good party last night?’

      ‘Brilliant! Ma’s made your favourite scrambled eggs and soldiers, and orders you to eat it or else.’

      ‘You shouldn’t be waiting on me, Abby. You’ll get enough of that the rest of the day.’

      Abby grinned as she fastened her gleaming dark hair back with an outsize barrette. ‘I gave in my notice yesterday. You heard about our amazing parent’s stroke of luck? It means I can use my café money to go to France with the Kents, and Ma can go off on that holiday to the Lakes she fancies. And you can spend your spare cash on orgies instead of on me.’

      ‘That’ll be the day. By the way, I brought you something. Over there on the dressing table.’

      Abby gave a squeal of delight and jumped up in a flurry of long, denim-clad legs. ‘Was Venice as fabulous as it’s supposed to be?’ she demanded as she tore at wrappings.

      ‘Even more so.’

      Abby crowed as she pulled on a bright vermilion T-shirt emblazoned with ‘Venezia’ across the chest. ‘I love it,’ she said, eyeing herself in the mirror. ‘Thanks a lot, Laurie. I’ll wear it tonight.’

      ‘Another party?’

      ‘No, a sort of date.’ Abby took out the coloured glass earrings and tried them on. ‘How do I look?’

      ‘Great. That colour’s good on you. Who’s the lucky man?’

      ‘Just Marcus.’

      ‘Rachel’s brother?’ Laura downed some of her tea to avoid mentioning that Marcus was a trainee barrister, and way out of her baby sister’s league. ‘Is he joining the family party in France?’

      ‘No. But tonight he’s got tickets for an open-air concert at Millwood House—picnic in the park, kind of thing. Mrs Kent’s too busy getting ready for the hols, and Rachel can’t stand classical music, so he asked me if I’d like to go along.’

      ‘Then take a groundsheet and wear wellies. It was very wet last night.’

      Abby turned a searching look on her sister. ‘You look a bit peaky. Headache?’

      ‘A bit,’ admitted Laura, and grinned ruefully. ‘I need to get rid of it, fast. Hen-party tonight.’

      Laura caught the train back to Paddington the following afternoon, changed to the