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GELATI

She looked Genevieve&039;s Vespa over with some trepidation The little motor-scooter hite with red trireat devotee of the bicycle in her younger days, Kate hadn&039;t had much luck with motorised vehicles In her experience, wonderful new contraptions had a habit of trying to kill her

&039;It&039;s the only way to get about,&039; Genevieve declared &039;I can nip in and out between stalled cars&039;

&039;I&039;ll bet you get honked at a lot&039;

&039;Well, yes&039;

Genevieve shtlife and look at the ruins

They hadn&039;t talked, really About Charles

Genevieve sat forward on the long seat, telling Kate to cli, affording the welcome comfort of a breeze and a few routine brushes with death Genevieve knew her way about the narrow streets and through hidden courtyards and piazzas She handled her trusty steed with practised expertise Whizzing past stalled motorists, she waved cheerfully at a chorus of rude horns

Clinging to Genevieve&039;s back, with blonde hair blowing at her face, Kate realised she was at the point of being seduced When she returned to London, she&039;d consider buying a scooter She hbury Corner on a little dreahs outside the coffee bars along Old Coh the knot of Teds who liked to block her way to the launderette

They zigzagged away frona, then up a steep side-road Kate clung to her hat Genevieve drove her back to the Hassler

In the hotel lobby, she reclaimed her suitcase from an ieeant Ginko, Silvestri&039;s pet, was questioning so the usual channels, trying to establish so in the Count&039;s past that would lead to the killer It wasn&039;t likely to be a fruitful avenue: she thought Kernassy washe had done

Had the news got to Penelope? Was it in the daily papers? Surely, Marcello must have sold the story Kate would have done in London

Genevieve lifted her sunglasses to exae streaht here froh life, Kate&039;

Kate shook her head She felt out of place here, a s because it was easier As usual, it&039;s landed me in trouble&039;

She re in Malenka&039;s wake, trying to claio

&039;They say the waiters here are tres delicious,&039; Genevieve said, peering into the ereed

Genevieve looked, al, at her

&039;You are a dark horse&039;

Genevieve was fond of English idioms She picked them up from Charles

Kate had an idiom too &039;When in Roirl,&039; Genevieve said, affectionately &039;Charles should&039;ve warned me&039;

It was the first time Genevieve mentioned him They would have to talk Soon

Genevieve realised it too, and suggested they slip off for gelati Kate agreed They left the lobby, Kate carrying her suitcase Genevieve&039;s Vespa looked impertinent parked outside the Hassler, so near the Spanish Steps Genevieve gave her scooter an affectionate little pat, and tipped the doorainst the human tide Warm people in su thee hats and dark glasses Kate spotted fashions that would be in London by Christ artists - all berets and beards, as if they were dressing the part - sat on stools, doing sketches of the tourists Kate could never walk past a group like this, in London or Paris, without being tempted After seventy odd years without a reflection, she had a constant, nagging curiosity about how she looked She remembered the shadow she&039;d seen in the waters of the Trevi Fountain, and shivered

Genevieve knew a cafe opposite the house where John Keats had died It was surprisingly neglected by the tourists who frequented the Museo Keats-Shelley

&039;It&039;s a vaht&039;

They were given a table under a black awning The cool shade was delightful Kate touched her face and found it still hot frolasses of soft cri spoon, dislodging the cherry on top

&039;The ins, but they use sheep&039;s blood really&039;

Kate had tried blood ice crea blend of tastes and sensations This was different

&039;It&039;s lovely,&039; she adle

&039;This is a city for the senses,&039; Genevieve said &039;A place for the heart, not the head If you want to think, you go to Paris; if you want to feel, you come to Rome After a while, it&039;ll drive you er I&039;ll be able to stand it, after&039;

She left the sentence unfinished

&039;How is he?&039; Kate asked, directly

Genevieve angled her head in thought, frowning a little She slipped her sunglasses up into her hair like an alice band Kate saw hurt in her eyes

&039;Frole illness, only old age The things which hold hi&039;

&039;Is it too late? For him to turn?&039;

Genevieve pondered awith the question Why hadn&039;t she done anything, made a decision?

&039;The Church says there&039;s such a thing as deathbed conversion,&039; said Genevieve &039;I don&039;t knohy it wouldn&039;t be possible To turn, you only have to be near death&039;

&039;You have no get?&039;

The other vampire shook her head

&039;In all these centuries, there&039;s been no one?&039; Kate asked

Genevieve looked a little sad and shrugged, a very French gesture