Free Broken Chord by Margaret Moore Page A

tea. Could you…?”
    “Of course. Will it be alright to leave them up there alone, or perhaps Franca could…?”
    Ursula looked at the two children, as though weighing the question up. “Of course. They’re both big girls now.” The last thing she wanted was to babysit them and Marta had far too many other things to see to, as did Franca.
    Arabella looked pleased at the compliment. “We’re quite big now. We always stay alone when we have a rest.”
    “Well, then, that’s settled.”
    Marta led the two children out while Ursula poured the coffee.
    “Those two really are the limit. It’s so rude, and Marta has quite enough to do without looking after the children,” she pointed out.
    Guido sipped his coffee and kept his counsel. He wasn’t going to openly criticise Teo; that sort of thing was never advisable. Isabella was another kettle of fish.
    “I’m surprised Isabella didn’t come back. She usually takes them up for their rest herself,” he said in a bland tone.
    “Obviously, her children come last in this matter. She’s angry with Teo so she’s forgotten all about them. What kind of a mother is she?”
    Guido had to restrain laughter. Criticism of other people’s parenting was quite out of order when you had been such an abysmal parent yourself.
    “I wonder where she can be?” he asked a little facetiously.
    “Shopping, though God knows where. There’s nowhere decent in the area, but with her appalling taste that hardly matters. I expect she’ll find something ghastly to buy.” Ursula’s tone was clipped.
    “You should take her in hand.”
    “A lost cause, I’m afraid,” Ursula’s tone was scathing.
    “Perhaps she’s gone to the hairdresser.”
    “Well, she’s crazy if she has. There’s no one round here knows what they’re doing. Mind you, that isn’t important because she’s got no idea. I can’t think who advised her to have that dreadful yellow hair.”
    “Yes, it is rather yellow. I wonder what she’d look like with dark hair,” he mused. “It would go better with her skin colour.”
    “Well, that’s because she’s a brunette. She has very dark skin and tans too much and it makes her hair look even more like straw.”
    “Seriously, though, can’t you advise her, Ursula?”
    “Me! Do you honestly think she’d listen to me? She can’t stand me.”
    Guido looked at her carefully. “Yes, I think you’re right, but to be honest, it’s hardly surprising is it? I mean she’s never had muchfrom you. You thought Teo should never have married her and she knows it.”
    “Of course he shouldn’t. He must have been mad.”
    “Well, there was the question of Arabella.”
    “I know, but since when does having a child mean you have to marry its mother?”
    “Teo’s quite a conformist.”
    “God save us from the redeemed. He might even feel he’s got to keep this farce of a marriage going, for the sake of the children or something.”
    “Perhaps he’s learned by your mistakes.”
    “Guido, that is an unforgivable thing to say.”
    “Sorry, I was joking, actually.”
    “Well, don’t. I don’t have a guilt complex about what I’ve done. I’ve lived my life to the full and it really annoys me to see one of my children behaving like some middle-class, small-minded idiot. When there’s no love, no spark, why keep fanning the fire?”
    “Actually, I rather think Isabella does love him,” observed Guido thoughtfully.
    “That, my dear Guido, is quite irrelevant.”
     
    The children slept in their darkened room. Marta made herself yet another coffee in the cool kitchen. Piero had gone out and now the house was quiet. Ursula had gone down to the pool and Guido had driven off to a business appointment. It was the only restful moment of the day. She sipped her coffee and put her feet up.
     
    Ursula swam up and down the pool with slow lazy strokes. The pool was set away from the house, hidden from it by massive oleanders, and away from prying eyes. The only thorn in