The Missing Letters of Mrs Bright (ARC) by Beth Miller

Author:Beth Miller [Miller, Beth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781786817419
Publisher: Bookouture
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Sixteen

Kay

‘Stunning.’

‘More than stunning. Exceptional.’

‘Superlative.’

‘Astonishing.’

‘Exquisite.’

‘Beyond compare.’

I sipped my cappuccino, closed my eyes briefly, then was rocked all over again by the view when I opened them. ‘Bloody gorgeous!’

Bear laughed. ‘So poetical.’

It was our third day in Venice, but it was the first time we had done the thing I’d dreamed of – sitting together in a café by the edge of the Grand Canal.

‘I still can’t believe we’re really here,’ I said.

‘Me neither,’ Bear said. ‘Turns out all you need to achieve a lifelong dream is a bossy friend and a shitload of money.’

‘Who knew?’

We went back to our new favourite pastime, which was gazing at the Grand Canal and failing to find the right adjective to sum up its appeal.

‘It’s like a film set,’ I said.

‘Except better, cos we’re in it,’ Bear said.

‘It’s like a painting.’

‘Except better, cos we’re in it.’

‘Do you really feel that we add something extra to the timeless beauty of the scene, Ursula?’

‘Yes, I do. We are, ourselves, timeless beauties.’

The water glittered in the low bright sun, and metres from where we were sitting there were gondolas tied up at the shore, bobbing gently up and down. Across from us, on the little island in the canal that housed the tower of San Giorgio Maggiore, someone was getting married. We were too far away to see their faces, but the bride posed for photos alone by the edge of the water, her long train spread out on the ground behind her. I missed my camera; my fingers itched to take her picture as well.

‘You see all the films set in Venice,’ Bear said.

‘Like Don’t Look Now.’

‘That was a good one. But you don’t really believe it’s a real place, not till you’re here.’

‘And not even then.’ I finished my coffee and sat back in my seat.

Bear put her hand on mine, startling me. ‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘Thank you for making me come here.’

‘I didn’t make you, did I?’

‘Well, you didn’t coerce me. You just made me want to come. This is such a beautiful way to spend time. With you. Here.’

I hadn’t yet dared ask Bear what made her change her mind. I didn’t want to wreck the mood, which was friendly as always, but which I felt depended on me treading carefully. There was an agreement between us – unspoken but as loud and clear as if it had been yelled through a megaphone – to keep things light.

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