did I.’
Since he was wearing a fresh shirt, his black curls were damp and he smelt delicious, Rose had already gathered that.
‘Where now?’ she asked as they left the hotel.
‘To look at shops, naturalmente!’
Their first stop was on the Ponte Vecchio to look at the jewellery on display, but with her eyes popping at the prices Rose soon abandoned the jewellers for a shop selling silk ties.
‘You want a gift for the boyfriend?’ asked Dante.
Tempted to lie and say yes, she shook her head. ‘For Tom, Charlotte’s father.’ She pointed to one in cream-dotted bronze silk. ‘What do you think?’
‘A good choice. What will you buy your mother?’
‘I think I’ll go for one of these silk scarves. Which do you fancy?’
Dante pointed to one in colours similar to the tie. ‘That one, yes?’
Rose was very pleased with her purchases, sure she would have paid a lot more without Dante’s help. Later, window-gazing at designer clothes in the Via da Tornabuoni, they spent fantastic pretend fortunes on a wardrobe for her before Dante took her to the Piazza della Repubblica to browse through La Rinascente, a department store where Rose could have spent hours.
‘Next time stay longer and linger here as long as you wish. Also explore the Palazzo Pitti and the Tivoli Gardens,’ Dante told her. ‘But now, if you are not too tired, let us walk to Santa Croce to visit the Bar Vivoli Gelateria. The best ice cream in the world is made there.’
‘An offer I can’t resist!’ She laughed up at him and saw his eyes light up. ‘What?’
‘At last you laugh! For a moment I saw the younger Rose again.’
The smile faded. ‘A fleeting illusion, Dante.’
Their progress was slow on the way to the Vivoli due to the lure of the small shops in the Santa Croce area. In one of them Rose spotted attractive plaques in papier mâché painted with vegetables and bought a pair for her mother and Tom. ‘They both love gardening, and these will be light enough to stow in my suitcase.’
He smiled. ‘You have done much shopping for others, but nothing for yourself.’
‘I don’t need anything,’ she assured him. She felt guilty enough about spending Fabio’s money as it was. ‘I’ll settle for this ice cream you promised.’
At the Bar Vivoli Rose rolled her eyes in ecstasy when she tasted her strawberry ice cream. ‘It’s gorgeous—aren’t you having any, Dante?’
He shook his head, smiling indulgently. ‘I will protect the shopping from your gelato while you enjoy. Is there more you wish to buy? Or we could explore the great church of Santa Croce here.’
‘I’d like to very much, but I’d better leave that for another time.’ Not that there would be another time. She looked up at the magnificent facade with regret. ‘Shall we go back now?’
‘Whatever you wish, Rose. Where would you like to dine tonight?’
So he meant them to dine together again. Irritated by her pleasure at the prospect, she told him that at that moment, her palate still rocking with strawberry gelato, it was difficult to think of food. ‘Maybe we could eat in the hotel again?’ At least that way the cost of dinner would appear on her hotel bill and she would feel less obligated.
Dante frowned. ‘If you really wish to. But there are many restaurants in Firenze. One of my favourites is right here in Santa Croce. We could take a taxi if you are tired. You can decide later when you have rested.’
She nodded. ‘Fine.’
‘I will see you at nine then, Rose.’
‘I’ll be ready. Are you taking a rest, too?’
He nodded. ‘Also I must make a few phone calls, touch base, as you say. Ciao.’
Rose waited to make sure Dante stayed put in his room and then, praying she wouldn’t get lost, hurried out of the hotel to make her way back to the Piazza della Repubblica to buy some of the delightful things she’d seen earlier in the department store. It might be Fabio’s money, but he would approve of presents for Bea. When she got back she stowed her packages away in her suitcase and, feeling hot and grubby after her rushed, guilty shopping spree, checked her messages, grateful to find a brief but totally reassuring one from her mother. The other, at last, was from Charlotte, so obviously happy Rose felt a searing pang of envy for an instant before stepping into the shower, but afterwards fell into instant sleep so heavy it took the phone to wake her.
‘Willow House Bookkeeping,’ she muttered sleepily, and bit her lip at the sound of Dante’s chuckle.
‘You are in Firenze now, cara. You obviously slept well!’
She stifled a yawn. ‘Very well.’ She sat bolt upright after a look at her watch. ‘And much too long!’
‘Bene. You obviously needed this. Sleep longer if you wish.’
‘No, indeed. Just give me half an hour and I’ll be ready.’
‘I shall knock on your door.’
Rose shot off the bed to wash and get to work on her face. Wishing she had something different to wear, she brushed her hair loose to ring the changes a little with the faithful black dress, and flung the scarf bought for her mother over one shoulder.
‘You glow, cara,’ Dante told her when she opened the door to him later.
‘Surprising what a little nap can do for a girl.’ She smiled guiltily. ‘I thought Mum wouldn’t mind if I wore her present just once first, but I must be careful not to get anything on it—no more gelato, for a start.’
‘Should such a tragedy happen, I will buy you another. So, Rose, do you still wish to dine here, or would you like something more animado, where locals eat?’
‘Animado with locals, definitely. And I’m perfectly happy to walk.’ Maybe she could persuade him to let her go halves with the bill.
‘Then I shall take you to a trattoria near the bar where you had your gelato. It is basic and traditional, and so popular it is always crowded.’
‘Sounds good. Lead on.’
After her hot, furtive dash earlier on it was dangerously pleasant to stroll with Dante through the balmy warmth of the Florence evening. For one night like this she would pretend he was just a friend she was enjoying an evening with, rather than the man who’d once broken her heart and turned her life upside down. The trattoria was packed, as he had forecast, but a place was found for them in a long red-walled dining room filled with laughing, talking, gesticulating diners sitting elbow to elbow, in total contrast to the formality of the night before, and Rose loved it.
After discussion with the waiter who brought their menus Dante ordered wine and mineral water and sat back, amused to see Rose so obviously enjoying the proximity with her fellow diners.
‘This
