A Moment on the Lips(52)

She shrugged. ‘That’s probably what the artist wants you to feel. That the world’s mixed up and random.’

He wasn’t convinced.

‘Art’s a personal thing. It’s better to go for the stuff that you like—the stuff that makes you feel something.’ She gave him a rueful smile. ‘I guess I was hoping that seeing it all together here would make you see what I see in it.’ She sighed. ‘I really should’ve taken you to the Musée D’Orsay instead of here. I think you would’ve liked the Impressionists more. And Van Gogh.’

‘Probably,’ he said. ‘Sorry. I’m a philistine. I like art to look like what it’s meant to be.’

She nodded. ‘And this doesn’t. OK. Let’s go.’

‘If you want to stay, I don’t mind,’ he fibbed.

‘Yes, you do—and there’s no point in staying if you’re not enjoying it. I want you to love Paris as much as I do. And there’s somewhere else near here I want to show you—somewhere I think you’ll like.’

She led him through the Marais district to the Place des Vosges. ‘This is the oldest square in Paris.’

It was a beautifully laid out square with gorgeous buildings, and he liked this a lot more than the modern building she’d just taken him to.

They wandered through the arcaded walkways together; he noticed that there were an awful lot of art galleries among the shops. Carenza was clearly enjoying window-shopping; and then she went very still and gave a sharp intake of breath.

‘What have you spotted?’ he asked.

‘That’s gorgeous.’ She pointed out a tall, narrow canvas with five wide bands of jewel-bright colours across it. ‘But unfortunately the price tag would blow my fritter budget for years.’

‘Fritter budget?’ It wasn’t a term he was familiar with.

‘Spending money, for little pleasures. Though some people would see it as frittering my money away. So I might buy myself flowers, or some music, or some luxury chocolate.’ She smiled. ‘Or I’d save it all up for ages and ages and blow the lot on a piece like that one.’

‘It looks almost like a slice of a rainbow,’ he mused, ‘except there aren’t quite enough colours.’

‘The blue and purple bands are sky—a midnight sky, I’d say—the green band in the middle’s the sea, and the orange and red bands are the beach,’ she explained. ‘Look at the way they blend into each other. It’s gorgeous.’

To him, it was simply five bands of colour; but he liked the effect it had on her, the way it had made her face glow. Now she’d explained it to him, he could see what she meant. Though it still wasn’t something he’d choose to hang on his wall.

‘Come on, let’s go and get a coffee,’ she said.

They stopped at a café where they could watch the fountain splashing in the centre and children playing on the grass in the autumn sunshine. ‘Did you know that loads of cavaliers duelled here?’ she asked.

‘I can imagine it,’ he said. ‘Is this where you’d settle if you lived in Paris?’

‘I’d love to,’ she admitted. Then she grinned. ‘Just think, we could take over a whole corner of the square between us. A branch of Dante’s, a branch of Tonielli’s, and an art gallery sandwiched between them.’ She laughed. ‘But there’s a slight problem. We’d have to sell everything we owned between us, and we still wouldn’t be able to afford three shops here, let alone a flat.’

‘A branch of Dante’s.’ He gave her a thoughtful look.

‘No, no, I was kidding—’ she held both hands up in a gesture of surrender ‘—and this isn’t a business trip.’ She finished her coffee and wrinkled her nose. ‘Sorry, I need the ladies’. I won’t be a minute.’

‘No problem.’

Did he have enough time to go back to the gallery where she’d fallen in love with that painting? he wondered. Even assuming that there were the usual queues for the ladies’ toilets, he probably didn’t. But there was another way to get what he wanted. He whipped out his mobile phone, flicked into the Internet, found the gallery’s website, and rang them. It didn’t take long to close the deal. The painting would be wrapped securely and sent by international express delivery to Naples, and it would be there at his office on Friday morning.

Perfect.