Page 27 of Never Too Late
‘That’s not the problem. They’re daily disposable lenses made of plastic, so I just throw them away every night. But stupidly I didn’t think to bring spares, and the glasses I keep in the car are being fixed. The trouble is that I’m supposed to be driving home later on.’
By this time Faye had also noticed that something was wrong, and she and the others came hurrying back. Together they searched, but they searched in vain. A tiny transparent piece of plastic on a lawn was like the proverbial needle in a haystack. Finally they gave up. By this time Keith had realised the problem that Robert now faced.
‘It’s not safe for you to drive, so why don’t you leave the car here and come back in the van with us? There’s bags of space. You can pick the car up in the morning.’
Robert shook his head. ‘It’s not as straightforward as that, I’m afraid. There’s a municipal reception at Fiesole town hall coming up shortly and I really have to be there. I can’t keep you guys waiting around until eight o’clock or later. You wouldn’t get home until late.’
It was then that Faye came up with a suggestion. On the face of it, it seemed very sensible, but Steph spent the rest of the evening wondering whether Sky might have sown the seed of the idea in her mother’s head. ‘Steph, do you drive? Would you maybe be able to hang on here with Rob and then drive him home? I’ve never really got used to driving on the wrong side of the road and Keith and the rest of us have been drinking wine, and I’m sure you know how hot the Italian police are on drinking and driving. You’ve just been drinking water, haven’t you?’
‘That’s right, it’s been so hot. Of course I’d be happy to drive.’ Steph was quick to agree. What else could she say? She rather hoped that Robert’s car wouldn’t turn out to be a Ferrari or some other scary supercar, but after the hospitality shown to her by the family this was the least she could do.
Chapter 13
The others went off and Steph was left with Robert. He disappeared behind a screen to change into a clean dry shirt, and she wondered if he would expect her to go to the drinks party with him. She was wearing her freshly ironed dress that Waldorf had soaked on the first day and she felt she probably looked presentable, but she had a suspicion the other guests would all turn up dressed in their finest. But, irrespective of that, she had a feeling there would be journalists and photographers there and the last thing she wanted was to appear in the pages of the tabloids as theplayboy virtuoso’slatest lady friend. She decided that she would do well to avoid accompanying him. She was about to tell him this when she saw him emerge from behind the screen, struggling to retie his bow tie. She called him over.
‘Can I help? I used to tie my dad’s all the time.’
He came over and she reached up to catch the ends of the tie and fashion them into a bow. This of course brought her face to within a foot of his and she suddenly felt the butterflies return to her stomach in a crazy swarm. In an attempt to defuse the situation, she brought up the subject of the civic reception to come.
‘You don’t expect me to come along to this drinks thing, do you?’
‘Of course I do.’ He sounded as if he meant it.
She shook her head. ‘It’ll be terribly smart and I’m not exactly all glammed up, so I think the best thing will be for me to have a look around town and then find a bar near the town hall and wait for you there. If I give you my phone number, you can call me when it’s all over. Hold still… there you go.’ She finished tying the bow and stepped back, partly relieved, partly sorry not to be standing so close to him any longer. When he responded she was genuinely amazed at what he said.
‘You really don’t need to wait outside. Come in with me. You look gorgeous as you are.’
No sooner had he said it than she felt the colour rise to her cheeks. To her surprise, on glancing up, she couldn’t miss the fact that he, too, was now blushing as he realised what he had said, and she suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to burst out laughing. The two of them were behaving like teenagers. So much for her being a grown woman and he an inveterate womaniser. She caught his eye for a moment and saw the corners of his mouth curl upwards into a slightly embarrassed smile. His bright blue eyes met and held hers, the twinkle in them rendering them, and him, all the more appealing as he qualified his statement.
‘When I say you look gorgeous, you must understand that this should not be construed in any way as my attempting to objectify you or wishing to subject you to any form of sexual harassment. My observation was purely aesthetic and was not intended in any way to give offence. I went to a seminar on that kind of thing last year and I know how to behave.’ He gave her a wink. ‘Contrary to anything you may have heard.’
‘It’s all right. I don’t feel in any way harassed.’ Whatever his reputation, she couldn’t help grinning back at him. ‘And thank you for the compliment, but after a day walking around Florence and then an afternoon in the sun, I have few illusions about how I look. Anyway, if you don’t mind, as I’m not dressed for it, I’d rather duck out of the reception. Is that okay with you?’ She wondered if he would realise her real reason for not wanting to be seen with him.
‘Of course. Totally up to you.’ If he realised that it was because she didn’t want to be mistaken for one of his infamous lady friends, he didn’t show it. ‘And thanks for the help with the tie.’
They had just finished exchanging phone numbers when a young woman came along to inform him that she had come to collect him for the short walk to the town hall for the reception. Robert picked up his jacket and pulled it on. ‘Here’s hoping they’ve got aircon in there.’
Steph left him outside the town hall and headed for the market where she spent a pleasant half hour browsing the different stalls. She ended up buying herself a pair of intricately formed silver earrings and took her purchase to a nearby bar where she sat down under a parasol and relaxed in the welcome shade. Her head was full of thoughts of this man who could so easily have been a candidate for her affections but was, she kept telling herself, potentially bad news. She ordered an ice coffee and did her best to switch to a different topic, but all her brain could come up with was the biopsy she would have on Tuesday – and that wasn’t a happy thought.
In an attempt to distract herself, she picked up a well-thumbed copy ofLa Nazione, the local newspaper, and skimmed through the pages until her attention was caught by a headline underneath a photograph near the middle of the paper. It translated asAmerican Rock Star Photographed in Portofinoand the article beneath it related that Cody Havergill (61), had been spotted on holiday on the coast. The article went on to reveal that he had apparently just purchased a property in Italy and then proceeded to list a selection of outrageous things he had done during his rock ’n’ roll years. Steph had to smile. From what she had seen of him on the boat, his days of causing mayhem were behind him.
Rob phoned just before eight and it was getting dark as they returned to his car. This turned out to be a rather nice BMW saloon, which was far smarter than any car she had driven before, but wasn’t in the scary supercar league, thank goodness. He handed her the key and stood watching indulgently as she opened the door before offering her a word of advice.
‘I think you’ll find the steering wheel’s on the other side.’
Glad the twilight was hiding her blushes, she opened the door wider for him and ushered him into the passenger seat with a mock salute. ‘I offer a professional service. If you would like to take your seat, sir…’
‘You’re too kind.’
Steph went around to the left-hand side of the car and sank into the leather-clad driving seat. After a bit of fiddling with buttons to adjust the height and reach, she set about starting the car. The first discovery she made was that this wasn’t done with the key but with a button on the dashboard. It was all rather nerve-racking, but Robert was sympathetic and helpful and she soon got the hang of it. One lesson she quickly learnt as they drove down the hill to pick up the motorway was that the accelerator pedal needed to be treated with delicacy to avoid squealing tyres and possible speeding fines. Certainly, compared to her mum’s old Mini, this thing went like the clappers. After almost half an hour of threading her way through the evening traffic, she emerged onto the autostrada and was finally able to relax a bit. She glanced across at Robert.
‘I hope I haven’t frightened the living daylights out of you.’
‘Very much the opposite. I feel like I’m in safe hands.’
This comment then set her mind wondering how it would feel to have him in her hands and she had to make a concerted effort to banish such conjecture and concentrate on the road. Gradually they started to chat; first about the concert and the reception, and then about all sorts of things from Waldorf the dog to her father. To her amazement, Robert had actually met him once while playing with the Royal Philharmonic.
‘But he didn’t tell me he had such a talented daughter.’
