“And you, young lady” – Uncle Leo turns to Hero – “are supposed to be working too, at your lessons. Where is Signora Giuliani?”
“She’s late,” Hero says smugly. But then, as though on cue, there is a clanging of the bell on the door.
“That will be her now,” Filomena says.
Hero’s face falls. “I wish I could spend the afternoon with Bea.”
“Bea isn’t going anywhere,” Leo reminds her. I realize that he is right, and feel a grin stretching across my face. “There will be plenty of time for you two to catch up.” He leaves, Hero trudging after him, and Filomena and I are left alone.
“Well,” I say. “What now?”
“What now?” Filomena stretches, like a cat. “Why, whatever you want, Bea.”
It’s a perfect answer. I jump to my feet, brushing the crumbs briskly from my skirt, my mind already on the hunt for hoopoes. “In that case, I think I’d like to explore.”
“Of course,” Filomena agrees. “Perhaps you would like to swim as well?”
“I don’t have a suit,” I say, thinking longingly of the blue water.
Filomena’s laugh is throaty. “This doesn’t have to stop you,” she says, and something in my face must betray my surprise because she laughs again. “I think your uncle is right that you will find us horribly shocking.”
“Oh no,” I reply. “I’m just used to being the shocking one myself.”
Filomena regards me with an unblinking feline gaze. “Perhaps you have some Italian blood in you,” she says, and it sounds like a compliment. “Anyway, it is no matter about the bathing suit. I will have your uncle order some things for you. And some summer clothes perhaps.” She eyes my dress rather doubtfully. “You are not too warm in that?”
The truth is that I am rather warm. Although my dress is cotton, it’s quite thick with long sleeves and it’s also a pinch too tight. The heat here shimmers in the air, a different beast altogether from the weak English sunshine. “I suppose I am a bit,” I admit, feeling a trickle of perspiration on the back of my neck. “But Uncle Leo shouldn’t have to buy me clothes.”
“Do not worry about it.” Filomena is firm. “I will take your measurements myself later and then I will speak to him. It is fine.”
“All right,” I say doubtfully. I’m not sure my parents would like my uncle spending money on me, but Filomena seems very certain.
“So, you are going to explore?” she says, closing the subject.
“Yes. There’s actually a particular bird that I want to find.” Then I remember; if I’m going exploring then I’ll need my binoculars, and that means I need to track down both the car and its driver.
“Oh.” I hesitate. “Actually, there is another thing. The man who came to collect me yesterday – do you know where I can find him?”
“Ah!” Filomena arches a knowing eyebrow. “Another victim falls to Ben’s charms.”
“Charms?” It’s not exactly the first word that comes to mind.
“It is usually the way with Ben.” Filomena sips her coffee. “He has quite a reputation with the ladies, you see.”
“Well, I suppose he could be charming,” I say, a little doubtfully. “If he really put his mind to it.”
“I’m sure he would be pleased to hear you say so.” She sounds like she is trying not to laugh.
“I shouldn’t think he’d care much for my opinion either way,” I reply. “I don’t think he really … warmed to me. To be completely truthful, we had a little bit of a disagreement.”
Filomena smiles. “How intriguing. Well, Ben will be working in the grounds. When you find him, I’m sure the two of you can …” She pauses here, looking at me from underneath her eyelashes. “… make amends.”
CHAPTER NINE
I trip down the steps and into the gardens. I turn, unthinkingly, to one side, choosing a path that winds through a small copse of cypress trees, stopping often to bend over and examine the various flowers that are splashed about, tumbling in a riot of crimson and violet from terracotta pots or growing in tangled golden constellations underneath the trees.
I follow the chirruping sound of a cricket and watch admiringly for a moment as he leaps across the path. There’s a flicker of red on his abdomen – I think he may be a species that I haven’t seen before. I am tempted to follow him but become distracted by a pretty little green hairstreak butterfly, or Callophrys rubi, who flutters around my face for a moment, her cheerful green and copper wings glimmering in the sun. With a sigh of happiness, I wind my way through tall avenues of carefully manicured yew hedges, my fingers running over their soft needles.
“Taxus baccata,” I mutter absently.
“What did you say?” a voice asks, and I look up to find that I have rounded a corner and am now standing in a large square clearing. I have found my way to the stone fountain and the sound of the water is enticing as it splashes against the stone.
Ben stands in front of me, dressed in light trousers and a loose white shirt, rolled up at the sleeves. His feet are bare and on his head is a battered panama hat. As he lifts his face I notice a small scab on the bridge of his nose and a violet bruise under his right eye. I wince.
“Oh.” His voice is cool. “It’s you. I should have known you’d be the one wandering around, talking to yourself in Latin.”
It is not an auspicious start. “Are you always like this?” I ask.
“Like what?”
“So rude to people you’ve just met.”
He tips his head to one side. “I don’t know.” He smiles reluctantly, revealing a perfect dimple in each cheek. “Do you always greet new acquaintances by punching them in the face?”
“Oh, you can’t still be angry about that,” I protest. “It was just a misunderstanding. I’ve apologized several times as well as administering first aid and sacrificing one of my handkerchiefs in the process – a fact which would irk my mother a great deal, by the way, because I’m always losing the blasted things.” I smooth my skirt with my hands. “I believe that continuing to dwell on it is quite ungentlemanly.”
“Un … ungentlemanly?” Ben looks startled. “You think I am ungentlemanly?”
“Yes,” I agree.
“Ungentlemanly?” he says again, a little louder.
“You don’t need to keep repeating the word; I’m the one who said it in the first place.” I lift my chin. “But actually, yes. I think that your refusal to accept my apology and to move on graciously is ungentlemanly.”
There’s a pause as Ben seems to consider this argument for a moment. Finally, he shrugs. “Well, I think it’s a bit rich being schooled in social niceties by a girl who chases down bandits and assaults her would-be rescuers.”
I feel a smile tugging at my mouth. “Oh, but that girl sounds so much more interesting than a swooning maiden.”
“She sounds like a pain in the neck to me.” A quick answering grin flickers across his face. “And I can’t imagine you’re much of a swooner.”