LITMIR.BIZ

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think it was a duet. So? Shall we try it later?’ he suggested. ‘Only I’m not sure if the cooker survived the double whammy of the kettle and the fire extinguisher.’

      ‘I don’t know about the food but I’d enjoy the walk.’

      He leaned forward to look at her face. ‘Are you okay?’

      ‘Fine.’ She dashed away a tear that had spilled down her cheek. ‘I was just remembering...’

      ‘So long as it’s not the thought of marrying me.’

      ‘No.’ She put out a hand and he took it, held it and for a moment they just stood there, staring at the view, neither of them knowing what to say. ‘As you said, we’ve known one another a long time.’ Reclaiming her hand, she tucked away a strand of hair that had escaped her plait. ‘We’ll be fine.’

      ‘When are you going to tell your family?’ he asked.

      ‘Oh...’ She gave a little shrug. ‘Do we have to? Mum and Dad are having a whale of a time travelling across India. Portia’s in the States. Posy is desperate to become a soloist and daren’t miss a performance—’

      ‘And Immi is up to her eyes organising something to rival the royal wedding.’

      ‘That’s about it. One wedding at a time in the family is more than enough to cope with, don’t you think?’

      ‘So you’re going for Option A?’

      ‘Option A?’ She finally turned to look at him and saw the ceiling debris whitening his hair, his shirt.

      ‘What on earth have you been up to?’ she asked, as if she didn’t know.

      He looked down, attempted to brush the mess from his shirt but it was damp and it smeared into the cloth.

      ‘Leave it. I’ll put it to soak.’

      ‘I’ll see to it.’

      ‘Right answer.’ He glanced up and when he saw that she was laughing, he smiled back and without warning her heart did a somersault. This was going to be so hard...

      ‘Tell me about the scullery ceiling,’ she said, quickly.

      ‘Do you want the good news or the bad news?’

      ‘There’s good news?’

      ‘The back door is now open and there’s a good draught clearing away the smell of smoke.’

      ‘And the bad news is that the scullery ceiling came down on your head.’ That must have been the curse she’d heard.

      ‘Not all of it. Just the bit in the corner near the door. Fortunately, it was wet so there wasn’t a lot of dust.’

      ‘More good news.’ Although what state the bedroom above would be in was another matter. ‘Can it be fixed?’

      ‘There’s no point until the roof is repaired. I noticed a builders’ merchant on the outskirts of the village. We can call in on the way down and order some tiles.’ She must have looked as horrified as she felt at the thought of him on the roof attempting to fix tiles. ‘I used to work for a local builder in the holidays to earn money for flying lessons.’

      ‘Tiling roofs?’

      ‘Carrying them up the scaffold to the tiler and, because no skill is ever wasted, I asked him to teach me how to do it.’

      ‘In case the flying didn’t work out?’

      ‘The alternative was following my father into medicine. He had dreams of me one day taking over his practice. Heaven knows why. He’s always complaining about the hours, the money, the paperwork,’ he said, but he was smiling. ‘The old fraud loves it.’

      ‘Which is why he wanted it for you.’ Andie had met Cleve’s father. He was the kind of family doctor that they used to make heart-warming television dramas about.

      ‘He hoped that if I had to pay for flying lessons I’d quickly get over my obsession with my great-grandfather’s heroics in a Spitfire and fall into line.’

      ‘Two stubborn men.’

      ‘I’m better with machines than people.’ He looked across to the table. ‘Do you feel up to a glass of orange juice and a banana?’

      ‘I think so.’

      He poured orange juice into a couple of glasses. Cut thick slices of bread and took out a pack of butter.

      ‘No butter for me.’ She peeled the banana and squashed it over the bread, picked up a jar of marmalade. ‘It appears to have survived.’

      ‘That’s not the jar I bought. Matt must have replaced it with one from his cupboard.’

      ‘I imagine we’ll need a witness,’ she said, as she dolloped marmalade on top of the banana, ‘and he’s been a total brick. Shall we ask him?’

      ‘You’re sure about not telling your family?’

      ‘Quite sure.’ She looked up. Cleve was piling thinly cut ham onto thickly buttered bread. Damn, it looked good. Maybe after the banana... ‘I’m sorry, I’m being selfish. You’ll want your parents here.’

      ‘This is about what you want, Miranda. They’ll understand.’

      Would they? Would her own parents?

      Probably not, but the thought of pretending that their marriage was more than it was, turning it into a celebration, was not something she could face. No doubt there would be a party of some sort when they got home but that was all it would be—a party. Not a wedding reception.

      ‘Maybe we’re getting ahead of ourselves,’ she said. ‘We’ll have to make enquiries about the legalities. There’ll probably be all kinds of rules and regulations. A million forms—’

      ‘No.’

      ‘No?’

      ‘It would be different in Italy. Yards of red tape, all the stuff we’d have to do at home and then a whole lot of other stuff on top.’

      ‘But not here?’

      ‘No. L’Isola dei Fiori is a small island, the communities are close-knit, relationships are well known. No one could commit bigamy or marry a cousin because everyone would know the minute they applied for a licence.’ Cleve shifted his shoulders. It wasn’t a shrug, more an expression of awkwardness. ‘The clerk in the post office was very helpful.’

      ‘You went into the post office to check up on the legal requirements for marriage? After I turned you down?’

      ‘I went into the post office to call Lucy and pick up some local currency but while I was there I thought I might as well make enquiries.’

      ‘It sounds as if you had quite a conversation.’

      ‘A lot more information than I needed. One woman in the queue told me that if you wanted to marry your cousin you’d have to fly to Las Vegas.’

      ‘She spoke English?’

      ‘The clerk was translating.’

      ‘Oh. Quite a party, then.’ She was struggling not to smile at the image this scene was creating. ‘Does that happen often?’ she asked. ‘Cousins marrying in Las Vegas?’

      ‘Apparently not because you could never come back and being exiled from L’Isola dei Fiori would be as if you were dead. Like this.’ He mimed stabbing himself through the heart. ‘What the locals lacked in language skills they made up for in gesture.’

      ‘Right.’ She made a valiant effort not to laugh. ‘Well, so long as you didn’t go out of your way.’

      ‘Why would I do that when you’d turned me down?’

      ‘Because you’re a pilot and you’ve been trained to anticipate every eventuality.’

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