I demand to know what is wrong, Rose.’
‘Do you, indeed! Goodbye, Dante.’ Rose switched off her phone and slumped down on the sofa, determined not to cry. She’d done enough crying over Dante Fortinari in the past. But no matter how hard she tried to control them, the tears came pouring down her face just the same and she had to do some hasty face scrubbing in case Bea saw Mummy crying.
Grace popped in later for coffee and frowned when she saw Rose’s swollen eyes. ‘Darling, what’s wrong?’
‘Dante rang. He wanted to take me out to dinner tomorrow.’
‘But that’s good, surely, not something to cry about?’
Rose sniffed inelegantly. ‘I turned him down.’
Grace stared at her blankly. ‘Why?’ Her eyes narrowed suddenly. ‘This is about Bea, isn’t it?’
‘What...what do you mean?’
‘You don’t want him to know about her. Bea’s not a dark secret, darling—it’s time you got that idea out of your system.’
Rose’s heart settled back into place again. ‘You’re right. Lord knows, my situation is hardly unusual. I saw the percentages of single parent families in the headlines on my computer only this morning.’
‘And, as one of them, you do brilliantly, darling.’
‘Ah, but I wouldn’t be without help from you and Tom. And,’ Rose added with sudden passion, ‘don’t ever think I forget that, not for a minute.’
‘I don’t. So why not ring Dante back and say you’ve changed your mind? We’ll have Bea for a sleepover and keep her out of the way if that would make things easier for you?’
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