Page 18 of Under a Dancing Star

“The painting was for you, Uncle?” I ask.

Leo waves his hand airily. “It’s of no matter, my boy,” he says. “Take your time.”

Ben shakes his head. “I’ll finish it within the month.” I feel a pang of guilt then. I hadn’t realized the painting was a commission of sorts.

Filomena has been watching quietly, and I feel her eyes on my face now. “It is our great pleasure to host you, Ben,” she says slowly. “We have never needed anything in return.”

“Of course not,” my uncle puts in briskly, sounding a little offended by the very idea.

“However.” Filomena lifts a finger. “There is perhaps a favour you could do for us, if you would be so kind?”

“Anything,” Ben says earnestly, leaning forward.

“You could teach Bea to paint.” Filomena’s expression is demure, but I think I see a glimmer of something – mischief, perhaps – in her eyes.

“Teach me to paint?” I exclaim. Of all the things I imagined doing in Italy, it isn’t this. I can’t quite keep the dismay out of my voice and Ben looks equally horrified.

“Yes.” Filomena claps her hands in delight. “It is a perfect idea. Bea, we promised your parents that we would educate you as a young lady should be – and now we shall.”

There’s a heavy silence.

“I’m afraid that I would make a very poor student,” I say at last, attempting diplomacy.

“On this we are completely agreed,” Ben says and Filomena laughs. “Seriously, Fil.” His voice rises, entreating. “This will be a disaster. Ask me anything; command me to the ends of the earth. I will go on the slightest errand to the Antipodes that you can devise. But don’t ask me this.”

Everyone laughs, but all I can think is that I can’t allow my perfect summer to go up in smoke. There are plenty of things I want to do in Italy and being taught to paint by Ben is not one of them.

“Honestly,” I say to Leo, “I really think this is a terrible idea.”

“My life is in danger, around the girl,” Ben adds. “Literally. I rarely escape without some sort of injury.” He lifts his fingers to his bruised face and his blonde friend makes a sympathetic mew of distress.

But Uncle Leo is looking at Filomena. “Well, you know, Bea,” he muses, “your parents did entrust you to my care, and certainly we’ve been lax in devising some improving activities for you over the summer.” Leo is rewarded by a smile from Filomena.

“I think if you returned home with some skill in watercolours your parents would be very pleased. Exactly the sort of ladylike accomplishments they would appreciate.”

“Watercolours?” Ben’s groan comes from behind his hands. “Ladylike accomplishments? For her?”

Filomena is smiling and there is something about her expression that is familiar. Suddenly, I realize what it is. It’s the same look I’ve seen in my mother’s eyes. Last time, it’s the look that led to Cuthbert.

She’s matchmaking.

My horrified gaze meets hers and, unbelievably, she winks at me. She’s enjoying this.

“Of course” – Filomena sighs heavily now, her expression mournful – “if you can’t find the time to do this for us, Ben, then we quite understand.” She plays it perfectly, fiddling with the fringe on her shawl and gazing sadly at the ground.

There is a pause. Then Ben says, his expression mutinous, “I’d be delighted, Fil. The least I can do.”

Leo laughs. I don’t think he has the faintest idea what Filomena is up to, but he’s enjoying teasing me.

“And, Bea, we could always ask Hero’s governess to give you some lessons,” he says. “If you would prefer.”

Another pause. “Fine,” I grind out. “I’ll do it.”

“Wonderful!” Filomena is all smiles now, and she lifts her cup in a toast. “And we all wish you every success. To artistic endeavour!”

“To artistic endeavour!” cry the table as one.

As I reluctantly raise my glass, my eyes meet Ben’s in the candlelight and he smiles at me wryly.