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They were wed in Florence, in the grandest cathedral she had ever seen, the Santa Maria del Fiore. Here was the place behind the shed where she had used to hide from Roddy’s persecutions, and here the border of herbaceous perennials under whose stems was fairyland. This spike is more than half cut through. ‘Trespasses,’ supplied Gerald. It was wrenched away from Melusine’s clutching hands. Her own pack was so light that she left it in the locker. “I’ll be hanged if I do. He was full of fabulous stories, not just tales of his own past in Rome but wonderful fables from the mysterious Orient and the ancient Greeks, old jokes and yarns that only he remembered. And Gerald— Melusine swallowed on an unaccountable lump in her throat.
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