Page 14 of One More Sleepless Night

Rafael turned and shot her a humourless smile. ‘Gaby’s the worst. She once asked me for advice years ago, which I gave her. She didn’t take it and when things didn’t work out she still blamed me.’

‘Oh.’ That Gaby had failed to mention. ‘What happened?’

‘You’ll have to ask her. How long have you known her?’ he said, coming back to the table and reaching for the bottle that sat in the middle of it.

‘Two years.’

He poured her some more wine. ‘Well, wait another thirty and then you’ll see.’

‘I’ll bear it in mind.’

‘How did you meet anyway?’

‘She lives next door to me.’

His eyebrows lifted as he topped up his own glass, then sat down. ‘In Paris?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Yet you’re British.’

And Gaby was Spanish. So what? ‘It’s a great place to be based for the work I do,’ she said, and told herself she really had to stop being so absurdly defensive. ‘And yes, technically I’m British but I prefer to think of myself as a citizen of the world.’

He shot her a quizzical glance. ‘Rootless?’

Hmm. Nicky tilted her head and pondered the question. She was certainly free and footloose. But rootless? She’d never really thought of it like that, but maybe Rafael was right because she’d been on the move for as long as she could remember.

Her parents had travelled extensively throughout her childhood—and still did—and she’d always gone with them wherever they’d been. As a result she’d never really had a base. She’d certainly never had a family home, or, come to think of it, a home of her own since. Even the flat she lived in now, with its minimalist décor and sparse furniture and general air of transience, was rented.

In fact the most permanent thing in her life was the suitcase she’d lived out of for the last ten years, a suitcase that was extremely well travelled and very battered but hanging in there. A bit like her, really.

‘Perhaps,’ she said, dragging her thoughts back on track and coming to the conclusion that Rafael was right about her lack of roots. ‘And delighted to be so,’ she added firmly, because that was about the only thing about her that hadn’t changed in the last six months and it seemed important to remember it.

‘Really?’

She nodded. ‘Absolutely. I get itchy feet if I hang around in one place for too long. And the idea of staying in one place permanently…’ She shuddered. ‘Talk about stifling.’

‘How come?’

‘A by-product of my upbringing, I imagine.’

‘Which was?’

‘Internationally varied. My parents are anthropologists. They were—and actually still are—always heading off to investigate long lost tribes and things in far-flung places, and more often than not I accompanied them.’ She paused and tilted her head. ‘Remember that winning photo I took?’

Rafael nodded.

‘It was of a Yanomami child. The Yanomami live in the Amazon rainforest,’ she added in response to the quizzical look on his face. ‘I was nine when I took it and it wasn’t my first time in Brazil either. In fact, by the time I went to boarding school at the age of eleven, I’d got through three passports.’

‘You’ve had an exciting life.’

She shrugged and felt her smile fade because lately it hadn’t seemed quite so exciting. ‘I’ve been lucky.’

There was a second or two of silence while he just looked at her and then he said, ‘And yet with all that excitement you choose this place for a holiday?’

The words might have been spoken softly, but that didn’t stop Nicky tensing. And it didn’t stop a dart of wariness from flickering through her, because there it was again. The flash of perception—so similar to his sister’s—in the dark green depths of his eyes, which told her that if she wasn’t careful he’d be able to see far more of her than she wanted him—or anyone else—to.

‘Well, why not?’ she said, knowing she sounded on edge but feeling too unsettled to do a thing about it.

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