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that stage she liked all her fellow volunteers. He was a couple of years older, and possessed an engaging mixture of naiveté and sophistication. He’d arrived in Florence right after the New Year, same as her, and thrown himself wholeheartedly into the life of the mud angels. He had heavy black eyebrows and a determined jaw. His clean-cut good looks had seemed a bit too clean-cut to begin with, but already his hair was straggling over his collar and his voice was gravelly with pollution and cigarette smoke.
    ‘Who’s that man Anna’s making up to?’ asked Kate. She was looking across the room to where Anna was doing her sex-kitten impersonation for the benefit of an odd-looking middle-aged man with a goatee beard who looked as if he’d be more at home wearing a pair of lederhosen and scrambling up the side of a mountain than at a consulate party. ‘I wouldn’t have thought he was her type.’
    David laughed. ‘It’s the casting couch, Florence style. Apparently he’s been sent over by the V and A to organize some of the work at the Uffizi. So far as Anna’s concerned, he’s the ticket to an easier life than muck shovelling.’
    ‘Really?’ Kate looked at the London expert with a new interest. ‘What’s his name?’
    ‘Professor Fuller. Want me to introduce you?’
    ‘You bet.’ Kate refilled her glass and prepared to be charming. Working with real works of art was what she had been hoping to do in Florence all along.
    Promotion turned out to be surprisingly easy to arrange: Professor Fuller was more than happy to add another good-looking girl to his team. He even agreed to take David on as well, just to show he wasn’t only employing pretty women. Three glasses of wine and half a dozen sausage rolls later, she emerged into the night with David, both of them bubbling with excitement at their good fortune.
    ‘Let’s celebrate,’ said David. ‘I’ll buy you dinner.’
    ‘Shall we wait for the others?’
    ‘No, just the two of us, for once.’
    He draped his arm across her shoulder. Kate realized he’d reached that stage of drunkenness where the protective male arm becomes surprisingly heavy, but she was not exactly sober herself and in no mood to criticize. David was attractive and good company and she was happy to spend the rest of the evening with him, flirting and maybe kissing a bit if it turned out that way. She hadn’t kissed David yet. She’d kissed Aiden because everyone seemed to have kissed Aiden; it was as though he expected it, felt he’d let you down if you didn’t. And she’d kissed Hugo, who’d been drafted in by the consulate to help with the extra work, because he’d expressed serious interest the night she arrived and she couldn’t think of any reason not to. But that was as far as it had gone. The volunteers talked about sex almost all the time but, so far as she could tell and apart from vague rumours about Anna, not much actual sex was taking place. A fair amount of kissing and heavy-duty petting, but no real sex. Their communal living conditions were a handicap, but also there seemed to be a general reluctance to break up the group by forming serious pairs. For the time being, this suited Kate fine. She’d made love five times with Matt, her serious boyfriend in England, and though she’d have died rather than admit the truth, her main impression had been of discomfort and embarrassment. Escaping Matt and his speedy, unsatisfying grapplings had been one of her unspoken reasons for coming to Florence.
    ‘Where shall we go?’ asked Kate.
    David stumbled on a loose cobble and the arm across her shoulder got even heavier. ‘Let’s go to the other side of the river.’
    ‘Is there anywhere to eat over there?’
    ‘Must be,’ said David.
    They crossed over on the Pont’alla Carraia. Above the river, the air was even colder, chill damp rising from the black waters. Kate always found the Arno sinister at night. By day it seemed placid enough; in fact, it was often hard