Free Angels of the Flood by Joanna Hines

surprises at the best of times, especially not one like this when he was already exhausted from his long week. He walked casually across the terrace and found himself staring down into a face that was instantly recognizable. Her dark hair was untouched by grey—which could have been thanks to a good colourist—but her brown eyes still had that unnerving directness, a kind of transparent honesty which he’d once found so attractive, but alarming also. He realized with annoyance that she’d observed his discomfort, though he struggled to suppress it as soon as he could. This unspoken communication was an intimacy too soon. How long had Simona been planning this little reunion, and what the hell was Kate Holland doing here anyway?
    ‘Kate!’ Years of dealing with difficult patients had given him remarkable powers of recovery. ‘What a surprise! As lovely as ever.’
    She smiled up at him, entering the game. ‘Don’t tell me, Mario—I haven’t changed a bit!’
    ‘Only to grow more beautiful. Welcome to La Rocca.’ He went to the side table and poured himself a large scotch with a small squirt of soda. He was in no mood to celebrate with champagne. He turned and said smoothly, ‘Simona never told me she’d invited you here. I would have come earlier if I’d known.’
    ‘Well…’ Kate looked down into her glass.
    Simona stepped in. ‘Isn’t it extraordinary, Mario? Kate just happened to be passing this way and thought she’d drop by. Just to have a look at the place. Of course, I recognized her at once. I’ve persuaded her to stay the night.’
    ‘Excellent,’ said Mario. ‘Did you leave your car at the villa, Kate?’
    ‘No. I haven’t got a car.’
    ‘But I thought you said—’
    ‘I came by taxi.’
    ‘You’re staying at Montombroso?’ Mario’s question was casual.
    ‘No. I came up from Florence this afternoon.’
    ‘In a taxi?’ He was unable to keep the incredulity from his voice. ‘You just happened to be passing in a taxi?’
    Kate laughed. She’d always had an attractive laugh, rich and bubbling and infectious. Only right now, Mario did not feel like laughing along with her. Kate’s cheeks were slightly flushed with champagne as she said, ‘The last of the extravagant travellers, that’s me. And I never drive when I’m abroad. It’s just—’ Suddenly the laughter died in her eyes. ‘It’s just something I never do,’ she muttered. She leaned forward and set her glass down on the low table. She was frowning.
    Mario had learned enough to be on his guard. He decided to change the subject. ‘How is your mother?’ he asked Simona. ‘Will she be joining us this evening?’
    ‘I expect so. She had a bad morning, but she was asleep all afternoon and now they say she’s fit as a flea. But she may change her mind. You never can tell with my mother. She’s so unpredictable.’
    Mario sat down and leaned his head back and closed his eyes. The scotch was releasing some of the tension in the back of his neck, but he dared not let his guard slip, not for a moment.
    Simona’s mother was unpredictable. You could call it that. But then the whole family was unpredictable, Simona more than anyone. He sighed. Where the Bertoni family was concerned, unpredictability was the only thing you could be certain of.

Chapter 7
Fogbound
    A NNETTE BERTONI WASN’T EXACTLY sure where she was. The fog had been bad bad bad all day. It came down for long periods, blocking out light and sense. Some days, the clouds bunched up at the sides and she was able to find her way through the tunnel they made—though where in darnation the tunnel was leading, she didn’t know. Sometimes, rare as hen’s teeth, there was a shaft of bright light round her, like the sunshine that poured down like a waterfall in the big spaces between the trees where she used to play in the woods behind Grampy’s house in Maine. In the brightness, which should have been an improvement but never was, she saw clearly—and she