Romance Of A Lifetime. Carole Mortimer
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exactly that.
She had been right to be wary of him, she acknowledged with a shiver. Very wary.
‘There has been a telephone call for you, signora.'
Beth took the key to her room, frowning her concern to the hotel receptionist; there were a limited number of people who knew exactly where she was!
‘It was your mother, I believe,’ the pretty young girl added, handing Beth the piece of paper with the exact message on it.
Beth's brow instantly cleared as she vaguely thanked the younger woman before turning away. Her mother had probably just telephoned to make sure she was actually still here and hadn't slipped off home without letting her know! Her mother simply refused to accept that she preferred her own company most of the time.
Nevertheless, she knew she would have to return the call.
‘How's it all going, darling?'
Tears welled briefly in Beth's eyes at the affectionately familiar sound of her mother's voice so many miles away.
This was the second time in as many days she had been moved to tears. Which was ridiculous when she had refused to cry at all for months.
She blinked back the tears; it wouldn't do to let her mother know that for that brief moment she had felt homesick for her cheery smile and comforting arms. Her mother would be on the first plane out here if she thought that were so, offering any help she could.
‘Fine, Mummy,’ she answered in a controlled voice.
‘And the opera,’ her mother prompted eagerly. ‘How was it?'
‘The experience of a lifetime,’ Beth acknowledged drily, willing to give her mother that satisfaction at least. The opera had been spectacular.
‘God, I wish I could have been there with you,’ her mother sighed, and Beth could easily visualise the disappointed frown on the still-beautiful face, her mother elegantly lovely, her features classical, her blonde hair drawn back in a neat coil, her small stature always neat and attractive in one of the smart business suits she chose to wear during the day. ‘You can be so stubborn sometimes, Beth,’ she added reprovingly.
She felt slightly guilty at being the one to deny her mother the opportunity of seeing Aida, but that guilt was eased a little by the knowledge that her mother had attended the Arena several years ago. But Beth hadn't wanted to come on this trip at all, certainly hadn't wanted company if she had to go, even that of her mother who she loved very much and knew understood her pain. She had found it very difficult to tell her mother that when she had offered to come with her, but she hadn't really been left with any other alternative.
‘I wonder who I get that from?’ she lightly teased, deliberately easing the situation.
‘I can't imagine,’ her mother returned drily. ‘All I can say is I would rather be there with you than trying to push this latest deal through.'
Much as she knew her mother cared about her, Beth didn't believe that for a moment.
No one looking at her delicately made mother would have believed she was the high-powered businesswoman that she actually was. And yet Katherine Palmer was very successful indeed, a self-made woman who now owned a chain of exclusive boutiques worldwide. Beth knew better than anyone that her mother had come by her business knowledge the hard way, and had tremendous respect for her as a person as well as a mother.
Her mother was in the process of branching out by introducing high-quality accessories to go with her clothing, and it was a very important move indeed; Beth had known that and it had helped to soften the blow when she had insisted her mother remain in England rather than accompanying her on this holiday.
Her mother had already sacrificed more than enough for her over the years—Beth had no intention of asking any more from her when she was obviously doing so well for herself.
‘I'm sure you would, Mummy,’ she dismissed lightly. ‘But there really is no need.'
‘I know that, darling, but … oh, never mind,’ she dismissed irritably. ‘What do you think of Verona?’ her mother continued lightly. ‘Delightful, isn't it?'
‘Very,’ Beth agreed drily, most of her time spent there having been marred in one way or another by Marcus Craven.
‘You still sound a little down, Beth.’ The frown could be heard in her mother's voice again.
‘Is that so surprising, with what's happened?’ She wished her voice didn't sound so sharp, but it was difficult for her not to.
‘I had hoped that this trip might—well, lighten your mood a little, take your mind off things,’ her mother sighed.
‘Give it time, Mummy,’ she pleaded softly.
‘Darling, I have given it time, we all have, you know that, but it's all so damned … oh, blast, and I promised myself I wouldn't start nagging you about getting on with your own life as soon as I spoke to you again!’ her mother chided herself impatiently. ‘What have you done with your day, Beth?’ she deliberately changed the subject.
A brief outline of her leisurely stroll before and after her visit to the Capulet house, as well as the house itself, took only a matter of minutes.
‘Is that it?’ Katherine sounded disappointed. ‘Nothing else happened?'
A vague suspicion began to stir in her mind, one she instantly dismissed. Even her mother, in her determination to see her happy again, couldn't have done such a thing—could she? Although Beth was loath to actually broach the subject, because once she had …
‘That's it,’ she dismissed, still frowning to herself. Those meetings with Marcus Craven had been a little too much like coincidence, but even so …
‘Oh.’ Her mother's disappointment sounded even more acute.
Beth drew in a sharp breath. ‘Mummy, you haven't been—being helpful, have you?’ she broached cautiously, the shutter closed on her bedroom window to keep out the brightness of the afternoon sun, the gentle whir of the air-conditioning not intrusive and very necessary in the excessive heat from outside.
‘In what way?’ Her mother sounded puzzled now.
Or did she sound genuinely so? Beth still wasn't sure. ‘Much as I love you,’ she sighed, ‘I want you to realise that I'm perfectly capable of organising my own life.'
‘Well, of course you are, darling.’ Her mother sounded hurt that Beth should even doubt that was how she felt.
‘For myself—–'
‘Oh, Beth, I thought you had finally agreed that this holiday I organised for you was a good idea just now,’ her mother protested.
‘I did.’ But it had been mainly to stop her mother worrying over her so much! ‘But the holiday away from England was all I agreed to. Any other interference—–'
‘Interference?’ Katherine sounded indignant at the implication. Too indignant? ‘What are you talking about?’ she asked impatiently.
If her mother had somehow arranged for her and Marcus Craven to meet—which would more than account for his persistence!—then by mentioning him at all she could be leaving herself open to all sorts of pressurised questioning from her mother. And yet asking Marcus Craven to ‘look up’ her daughter while they were both in Verona, having ascertained exactly when he was going to be there, would be just the sort of thing her mother would do. Despite what she said to the contrary, Beth knew her mother didn't believe she was capable of organising her own life, was convinced she knew what was best for Beth. But even so, she couldn't quite believe her mother would line up a man like Marcus Craven for her!
Although the doubt continued to niggle.
‘It isn't important, Mummy,’ she attempted to dismiss in a casual voice. ‘How are things at the boutique in London?'
‘I'm somehow