One Hot Summer Read Online Free PDF Page A

seeing the dim shape of her body deeply reflected. A warm shower rinsed away the stress and heat of her day; then, as she cautiously turned it to cold, the water came through more strongly, stinging like needles till she tingled with energy.
    Then there was the delightful business of choosing a new dress. Or, she thought, riffling through the vast wardrobe, trouser suit; for Bianca had an elegant line in those.
    Finally she chose a cornflower blue fitted cotton blouse with deeply cuffed sleeves, and wide flaring trousers to match. From a drawerful of carelessly tangled costume jewellery she took a pale blue beaded choker, and three broad white bangles.
    The result pleased her, as she peacocked before the long mirrors. Say what you like, she grimaced at her own image, expensive clothes do something for a girl. Her feet were bare, but a pair of sugar-pink and white high-heeled sandals took care of that. After some experimentation with Bianca’s make-up, she produced the gentle, translucent effect she had admired in others but so far rarely managed to produce for herself. A delicate shading of eye-shadow completed the picture.
    H’m, dreamy, Jan thought, scrutinizing her face critically in a hand-mirror. No wonder she uses that most; it must be just her colour, as it is mine.
    Now she was ready to face the Villa Tramonti and whatever it might contain. She hesitated only a second or two, with the jewelled perfume flask in her hand, then put it down. Not that. I may drift around here looking like Bianca Cellini, but I’m dashed if I’m going to smell like her. The cold shiver touched her spine again.
    The maid returned, with the orange drink on a tiny silver tray. When she saw Jan she uttered an exclamation of pleasure. Then, recognising the visitor wearing her mistress’s clothes, the girl’s face darkened with anger. Her eyes darted from the wardrobe to Jan, and back to the wardrobe. If she had not been so well trained, Jan knew, she would have protested strongly. As it was, she tossed her head and marched out of the room, expressing in every line of her plump little body the indignation she so clearly felt.
    She’ll tell the others and they’ll hate me. Cool glass in hand, Jan wandered through to the sitting-room. Did an invitation to play the guitar extend to an invitation to use the record player? Hesitation disappeared when the sulky, handsome face of her favourite singer glowered at her from the sleeve at the top of the pile. She put the record on, lowered the volume discreetly, stretched herself upon an elegant chaise-longue and crossed her ankles.
    This was the life ! And all for free.
    The warm sensuous throbbing of a familiar male voice, the cool comfortable room, the sense of complete detachment from the real world outside, made Jan realise how deeply tired she was. Since setting out for Rome she had walked every day quite as far as she ever walked in the wards, and mostly over cobbled roads. The heat and incessant noise outside, the dark museums and churches packed with so many treasures that the mind reeled—it had all drained her energy. Providence, no less, had made that impudent urchin snatch her bag. Ten days of this, and she’d go back to the hospital full of vitality and rarin’ to go.
    She fell asleep, and woke to find the Signora Cellini looking down at her.
    ‘ Sleeping, my love? How lovely you looked—like a child. It’s almost time for dinner.’
    Jan scrambled up. ‘ Thank you, signora. I’ve had a difficult day, one way and another, so I just dropped off. Were you needing me?’
    The delicate hand cupped her chin for a moment. ‘ Bianca dear, I always need you.’
    Firmly, Jan said, ‘ I am not your daughter, signora. I’m Jan—a visitor.’
    Troubled, Bianca’s mother said uncertainly, ‘ Oh, I thought—aren’t you Bianca?’
    ‘ You know I’m not. You’re talking English. You don’t speak to your daughter in English, do you?’
    ‘ I’m sorry, I made a mistake. Yes, yes, I