Willow House the front door flew open while Rose was paying the driver, and a little girl dressed in jeans and T-shirt hurtled down the garden path with the tall figure of Tom Morley in hot pursuit. Rose abandoned her suitcase and swept her child up in her arms, kissing her all over her rosy, indignant face.
‘Where you been, Mummy?’ demanded Bea, struggling to get down. ‘You didn’t sleep in your bed for lots of nights!’
‘Only two nights, darling. Have you been a good girl?’
Beatrice Grace Palmer nodded happily. ‘Lots of times.’ She tugged on her mother’s hand. ‘Come on. Me and Gramma did baking.’
‘The cakes smell delicious, too,’ said Tom, taking charge of the suitcase. He kissed Rose’s cheek. ‘You look tired, pet.’
‘Only from travelling.’ Rose smiled as Grace Palmer appeared in the doorway, looking too youthful in jeans and jersey to be anyone’s grandmother. ‘Talking of tired, how’s Gramma?’
Grace hugged her daughter. ‘I’m just fine.’ She grinned triumphantly at Tom. ‘We coped very well, if I do say so myself.’
Rose allowed herself to be towed straight to the kitchen, where little iced cakes sat on a wire tray. ‘Look, Mummy,’ said Bea, bouncing in her little pink sneakers. ‘Fairy cakes!’
‘They look gorgeous. Let’s have them for pudding after our lunch, which is something delicious from the yummy smell coming from the oven.’
‘Nothing fancy, darling,’ said Grace. ‘I offered several menu suggestions to celebrate your return from foreign parts, but cottage pie won the majority vote. So come on, Bea. Let’s put the cakes away in the tin so we can lay the table, and we all need to wash before we eat.’
‘Bea and I will lay the table,’ said Tom, ‘and let Mummy wash first.’
‘Hurry up, Mummy,’ ordered Bea. ‘I’m hungry.’
‘I need another kiss,’ said Rose huskily, and picked her daughter up to hug her.
Bea obliged her with a smacking kiss. ‘I cried for you last night, so Gramma cuddled me.’
Rose blinked hard. ‘Then you were a lucky girl. Gramma’s the best at cuddling.’
Tom nodded in vigorous agreement over the curly fair head, winning a flushed, sparkling look from Grace as he took Bea from her mother. ‘Come on, Honey Bea. Let’s wash those paws.’
Rose hurried upstairs to her room and took a depressed look in the mirror as she hung up her clothes. Far from benefiting from her little holiday, she looked as weary and wan as she felt.
Lunch was a lively affair with much input from Bea about her activities in her mother’s absence. ‘I went to school all day yesterday, then to the park with Gramma and Tom.’
‘I bet they enjoyed that!’ said Rose, grinning.
‘We did,’ agreed Grace, and relieved her granddaughter of her plate. ‘What a star—you ate the vegetables, too. You liked that, darling?’
‘Yummy!’ said Bea, and gave Rose a smile exactly like her father’s. ‘Cake now?’
Rose waited expectantly, eyebrows raised.
‘Please!’ Bea beamed in triumph.
‘Good girl.’
After cakes had been devoured, Rose said casually, ‘I’d better find some things I bought in Florence.’
‘Where’s that?’ demanded Bea.
‘It’s a town near where Auntie Charlotte lives in Italy. I had to fly there on a plane. You can help me carry the parcels.’
Later that evening, after a rapturous Bea had tried on her new jeans and T-shirts, and the exquisite little dress that Rose hadn’t been able to resist, the child was finally tucked up in bed with her new cuddly Pinocchio before Rose could finally relax over supper with her mother and Tom and give details of her trip. She told Charlotte’s tale with care, not sure how much she was supposed to divulge to Tom.
‘Good God!’ He eyed Rose in disbelief as she finished. ‘Charlotte finally got you there, only to take off somewhere else?’
Grace put a hand on his arm. ‘No harm done, love. Rose had her first real break since Bea was born, and hopefully she was able to enjoy it, knowing that her baby girl was safe with us.’
He frowned. ‘But the fact remains that Charlotte stranded Rose alone in a strange country while she went swanning off to New York with Fabio. How did you manage, pet?’
Rose braced herself. ‘Charlotte asked Dante Fortinari to deliver a letter to the hotel to brief me. You remember him from the wedding, Tom?’
‘Of course I do. Charming fellow—got married shortly after Charlotte.’
‘But his wife left him pretty quickly, stupid woman,’ said Grace, eyeing her daughter. ‘You got on with him very well at the wedding, I seem to remember.’
Rose nodded. ‘He was great fun.’
Tom shook his head in disapproval. ‘I shall have words with my daughter next time she rings. Now, tell me why she was so determined to get you to Florence. Lord knows she’s asked you often enough before, so what made this occasion so different?’
‘Tom,’ said Grace gently, ‘perhaps Rose thinks Charlotte should tell you that.’
Rose sighed. ‘I do, but on the other hand, Tom, if it’s going to worry you it’s pointless to keep you in the dark.’ She recounted Charlotte’s suspicions about Fabio, followed by her remorse afterwards when she discovered the truth. ‘Fabio insisted I should stay at the hotel anyway, all expenses paid.’
Grace shook her head in wonder. ‘How on earth could Charlotte suspect Fabio of straying? The man adores her!’
‘And spoils her far more than I ever did,’ said Tom and raised an eyebrow at Rose. ‘So where does Fortinari come into this?’
‘He volunteered to show me round Florence.’ Rose smiled brightly. ‘Which was kind. I would have been a bit lost on my own.’
‘I should damn well think you would.’ Tom got up to hold out his hand to Grace. ‘Come on, love, we must let this girl get to bed. She looks done in.’
‘I could stay, if you like, Rose, and get up with Bea if she’s wakeful tonight?’ her mother offered.
‘Absolutely not,’ said Rose, laughing. ‘You’ve done more than enough, both of you. Though I’m afraid I’ll need you tomorrow afternoon for a couple of hours, Mum, if you can? A client got in touch while I was away so I’m driving to see her.’
‘Of course.’ Grace kissed her daughter good-night, and thanked her again for the presents. ‘You shouldn’t have been so extravagant.’
Rose smiled. ‘Dante got a far better price for them than I would have done, and in any case it was Fabio’s money.’
‘Then
