“Well, at least let us see what you got.” She was pawing at the bags, trying to peek in, and Cherry bit back her annoyance. She pulled out a dress from one of the bags to exclamations of appreciation and envy.
“What else?” demanded Brigitte, and Cherry wished she’d shut up.
“Just a shirt and a top.”
“In all these bags?” she said disbelievingly. “Come on, what’s all the secrecy? Pretty, please, can we see?”
Laura had remained quiet during all this, but Cherry could sense she wanted to know what was in the bags. Isabella and Brigitte were looking at her with inquisitive, expectant eyes. She had no choice, and soon all the garments were out, being appraised and cooed over.
Cherry caught Laura looking at her in curiosity. She knew she was wondering how she’d managed to pay for all the clothes.
“You seem to have made a successful tour of the shops,” Laura said pleasantly.
“Not all of them,” said Daniel with relief.
“You went too?” Brigitte was amazed. “How did you manage to persuade Daniel to go shopping?”
“It was my idea,” he said, smiling. He put his arm around Cherry and kissed her. “Happy birthday. Sorry it was late.”
Laura’s face remained impassive. Now is the time,thought Cherry. She went to the bag that held the wrapped painting and, pulling it out, handed it to Daniel. “This is for you.”
He took it in surprise. “What is it?”
“Open it,” she said, smiling.
He pulled off the tissue and his face lit up. “But it’s . . . ,” he trailed off.
Cherry nodded. “I saw it and just wanted you to have it.” It had almost bankrupted her, but it had been necessary.
He loved it, she saw, but was clearly concerned. “You mustn’t . . . You can’t . . .”
Cherry put up a finger. “Nope. I don’t want to hear it. I wanted to get you something special.”
“No . . .”
She put the finger on his lips. “Shush.”
He looked at the painting again, eyes lit up, and he threw an arm tightly around her neck, kissing her. “Thank you. I absolutely love it.”
He was incredibly touched, she saw, and was glad she’d done it. “Yours was a present,” he gently admonished.
He kissed her again. Over his shoulder, she saw Laura looking on with uncertainty. She was probably trying to work out how she’d got the euros to pay for the painting.
Let her wonder.
* * *
Laura slept badly that night. So many things were niggling her. Daniel had paid for Cherry’s flights, and seemingly extra, and then all the clothes. He’d clearly spent a fortune; and to be fair, Cherry, understandably, would have struggled to pay for either. So, why the painting? How could she afford a two- to three-thousand-euro original oil when she couldn’t pay for her own flights? It kept her awake until two in the morning, and she woke early too—around six. The unsettled, slightly queasy feeling inthe pit of her stomach wouldn’t go away, so she got up and went down to the kitchen to get a glass of water.
As she held the glass under the tap, it slipped from her fingers and smashed in the sink. Laura swore; she seemed to be so clumsy these days, dropping things, losing things. She still had to get the rental car fixed, and now it was too late, as she was leaving the following day. She carefully picked the pieces of glass from the sink and placed them on an old newspaper. Then got herself another glass and filled it, drinking slowly, the same questions from the night before still hammering away in her head like a pinball machine, but no clear answers came.
Laura stretched her aching, twitching limbs. Although it was the last day of her supposedly relaxing holiday, she felt more stressed and exhausted than before she’d arrived. Cherry had changed everything. She’d made herself at home and yet had so far proven unwilling to spend much time with her hostess. In fact, Laura got the distinct impression she was barely tolerated.
She picked up the painting Cherry had bought for Daniel. The light caught the plane trees, the sandy shadows of the square. It was truly beautiful. No wonder Daniel treasured it.
“It is an original.”
Laura spun round and saw Cherry standing in the doorway.
