Artistic Licence Read Online Free PDF Page B

hands know the Tiger Tours rules. From the left, we each tell our neighbour our names, and then they introduce you to the person on their left, so we get to know each other’s names.’
    ‘I hate this,’ said the old lady. ‘I’m Doris, dear. Tell me your name but don’t bother to tell me anyone else’s because I won’t remember.’
    ‘You didn’t warn me there’d be parlour games,’ Thea reproached Molly when the ritual had been gone through. ‘I wouldn’t have come.’
    ‘Nonsense,’ said Molly, ‘it’s just a little exercise to help us get to know each other. Oh, good, here comes the wine.’
    By the end of the evening Thea was feeling tired, but generally much more optimistic about the holiday. Not everyone was elderly, and the few that were seemed to make up for their years by their interest in each other and life in general. She yawned widely as they walked back to the hotel, didn’t join in the chatter and was asleep before Molly had finished her bedtime beauty routine.
    After about an hour she woke up again. Molly snored, loudly and irregularly. Thea burrowed down under the covers, wondering if she’d ever be able to get back to sleep. Tomorrow she’d try to buy someearplugs, although how she’d manage without speaking much French she didn’t know. It wouldn’t be fair to Molly to ask the fluent Gerald to help her buy earplugs when he knew they were sharing and Molly had such a crush on him.
    Thea loved Aix-en-Provence. It was a charming town of manageable size, and stuffed with beautiful fountains, old buildings and delightful cafés. It was a shame that she slept so badly at night because it meant she was prone to falling asleep on the coach. If Molly caught her with her eyes shut, she would dig her in the ribs and order her to look at the view. It wasn’t that Thea didn’t want to see yet another view of Le Mont St Victoire – she loved the mountain and fully appreciated Cézanné’s apparent obsession with it – but she was
tired
.
    On the fourth day the party gathered in a beautiful room in one of the ancient
hôtels
which had been taken over by the university. Portraits of Aix notables stared down disapprovingly at the plastic stacking chairs which were put out for the students, old Tiger Tour hands got out notebooks and pens. It was time for the lecture on Cézanne.
    Thea sat at the back, well away from Molly, with some of the older guests who might well nod off and not criticise her for doing the same. That afternoon was designated ‘free time’ and Thea knew Molly wanted to go shopping. It wouldn’t be free time for either of them: it would cost Molly a fortune and Thea would be longing to escape.
    The lecturer came in. At first Thea thought he must be someone called in to move chairs or something, for he was far too young to have anything to do with aTiger Tour. Younger even than Thea, he was tall, dark and delicious. Thea sat up straighter and decided not to fall asleep after all – ancient monuments had a beauty all their own, but so did well-built young men with blue eyes and curling eyelashes. He was, in Petal’s parlance, ‘well-fit’.
    Thea kept her attention on him for some moments, but then realised that his good looks did not make him a good speaker. He mumbled, he didn’t smile and, unlike the masterful Gerald, he didn’t bring his subjects to life with his brisk enthusiasm. Thea decided to nap after all. His voice, what she could hear of it, had an Irish lilt to it, which was pleasantly soporific.
    After about ten minutes, Thea woke up and decided she wasn’t going shopping with Molly; she was going to have lunch instead. Thea liked shopping as much as anyone, but not with someone who had a gold credit card and an urgent need for a fiftieth handbag. Besides, she was still not getting much sleep and she didn’t have the energy.
    She spent the rest of the lecture planning what she would say to Molly – ‘I’m going to return to my room and read a little