The plane was held up in Rome. She used the waiting time to read through some notes from a TV company. They had suggested doing some publicity shots of her in some of the locations she had used in the novel. They had particularly wanted to do something with the burning of the dockland areas of Portsmouth and Southampton. What on earth good to go there now; they were cities exactly similar to every other in England? It would need a film set and special effects to get anywhere close.
There was an announcement apologizing for a further delay. Georgia Giacopazzi felt irritated. This journey had been endless. Suddenly she was plunged into the need for some reality. She got some coins for the phone and dialled.
‘It’s me.
‘Yes, of course I’m fine, have you ever known me to be anything else? It’s just that I wanted to hear you.
‘No, nothing that won’t keep.
‘Oh, it went off all right. He doesn’t know anything, but she seemed quite pleased, didn’t ask for anything to be taken out. I’m glad I went to see them.
‘Of course I was curious. At our age one needs to compare oneself with one’s peers from time to time. They look old. It’s living all those years basking in the sun that does it.
‘No, never! Two days was too long—Johannesburg is the pits! I can’t wait to get back, it seems as though I’ve been away for ever. Did we get some good hay?
‘Oh lovely. I thought about you. I was green with envy at the thought of it going on without me.
‘Of course I rang to ask about the hay, why else would I ring from Rome?
‘Yes, yes. Don’t fuss.
‘Yes, of course I am, how about you?
‘Goodness, is that a promise?
‘Bye. I’ll be home in two days. Kiss Prince for me.’
She laughs. ‘Well, pat him then. Bye. Love you too.’