"Could I have a word?

The Italian teacher looked up from her computer, and focussed on the last of her evening class students to rise and leave the room at the end of their lesson.

"Si? How can I help you?"

It was the silent, scary woman from the back row who had approached her, the one who as yet had said nothing during the first four weeks of the class. Her expression was neutral now, but Senora Vicenti feared she was just the type of client to complain. She needed this work, and she couldn't afford to have the students rate her down.

Elegant, beautiful, probably a wife to some wealthy Italian business man, the student had looked out of place in the community college to start with. Each week she had slipped in early for the class, sitting at the end of the back row, in her 5th Avenue clothes and her four inch heels. She had never volunteered to show any more interaction with the rest of the group, or their stumbling attempts at conversation.

The most she had ever done was to nibble the frame of her glasses, and scribble a few notes on a vellum bound note-pad. She had looked profoundly bored as they had progressed through the numbers one to twenty, and directions to reach the railway station. Running through an Italian dinner menu had equally failed to excite her, as had the ways to introduce oneself to the parents of one's fiancé.

But she spoke now. "Yes, I think I may be in the wrong class. Is there an Intermediate Italian class anywhere on the timetable?"

The teacher gave a little nervous jump. The woman's voice was so low and musical, it took her by surprise, but she wondered just how much Italian this person actually did know, so she addressed her in the language, asking her why she thought she might be overqualified for Beginners' Italian?

Miranda decided she might play the same little game. She replied in perfect Italian and said, "Well, we started four weeks ago, and I have already finished your course book. I expect to go to Rome for Easter and need to be completely fluent by then, so I thought it best to take a more accelerated course if I am to achieve that."

The vocabulary, verbs, subjunctive case, were all faultless. Miranda relented, because the last thing she really wanted was for this adult education teacher to feel a complete failure.

She added, in English, "Please don't worry. It's not your fault. I just have a natural gift for languages, and a photographic memory for words. I've also been to Italy many times before in my work, so I'm probably not quite your usual student."

"Well, I don't offer intermediate Italian, but in your case . . . How would you like to have one-to-one sessions, where we could cover more ground very quickly, and maybe discuss Italian culture or current affairs? It would be good to have someone so motivated."

Miranda smiled, and the teacher almost melted under the scary brilliance of her expression.

"That sounds perfect. If you can come to my house, I will send a car for you. I have young children, and don't want to be out of the home unnecessarily."

"Yes, how about $25 an hour? Would that be acceptable?"

"Perfectly acceptable!"

And so they arranged times and dates.

That was how Miranda dropped out of Italian evening classes, and made a new friend. Andrea was highly amused, when she heard all about it that night as they prepared for bed.

"Only you could buck the system, my love! Do you realise you might never know now how to ask the times of the trains from Pisa to Milan, or if the small boy really did place the book on the desk for his older sister to pass to the learned professor?"

"That's fine, I can live with it. The class was a farce, but the teacher is an interesting woman who has agreed to come here instead. I thought we might read articles out of Italian Runway, together and discuss them. You can join in if you like."

"I don't have your gift for languages, sweetheart, and I'm still trying to remember all the words in English for what I want to say!"

Andrea was gazing in the bedroom mirror as she ran her hand across the eight weeks of stubby growth which constituted her hair. She decided It made her look like a street urchin, but it might at least be long enough by the time they all went to Ohio for Thanksgiving not to scare her little nephews and nieces.

Her memory of recent events, so disastrously missing immediately after she was mugged, was now more or less intact, but Miranda still played games on her. Pretending she had promised to do things she had no recollection of ever agreeing to, was one of Miranda's favourite tricks.

These ranged from the outrageous to the decidedly bizarre, and all centred on what happened in the strictly private zone of their bedroom between 11 pm and 6 am. As a result, Andrea learned more about sexual positions and scary bondage games than she had ever thought possible.

Not having enough to do with her brain these days was making Miranda suffer more from insomnia than usual, and she didn't like to lie bored in bed at 2 am. when she had an Andrea to play with. She was a very imaginative woman, and she loved to tease.

She had pulled on some silk pyjamas now, for the night was chilly, and was snuggled into her side of the bed waiting for Andrea, who came towards her wearing boy shorts and a tee-shirt.

"Honestly, can't you wear something which doesn't look like you're just going out to play basketball?"

Andrea grinned. "You are the woman who destroyed my favourite jimjams, remember? Besides, I'm worried about Caroline's cough. One of us may have to get up for her in the night."

"My sweet little Mary Poppins. Come here then, and let me negotiate my way through all that appalling cheap cotton."

Andrea laughed and allowed herself to be molested. Only when the tickling became unbearable, did she take the upper hand and smother her lover's mouth with a French kiss.

Her physical strength had thankfully returned after the concussion, and she was a powerful young woman. Miranda gave in completely, so much so that it was she who ended up sleeping naked all night, her wrists tied together with a silk scarf and her neck, and backside both branded with love-bites.

Early the next morning they both woke to the sound of Caroline in the music room above them. She wasn't coughing any more, thank goodness, but had risen early and was vigorously practising her cello. She had improved dramatically in the last two months, and it sounded really good.

As they rolled against each other, Andrea had the good grace to untie Miranda's wrists, along with a slight blush as she remembered what she had done the previous night. Miranda didn't refer to it.

What happened in the small hours always stayed there in her lexicon of bedroom etiquette. She just hoped Andrea hadn't injured herself during their lovemaking. But her beloved girl seemed fine.

Andy tenderly held both of Miranda's wrists and kissed them each gently.

"I think Caroline is progressing as fast at the cello as you are with your Italian. And Cassidy and I are going to research ways for her to join the Girl Scouts in New York. She needs an outlet for all her energy."

"Yes, they are going each on their own path these days, more than before. Cass is still doing very well with her piano playing, but I can see she wants to be outside in the fresh air more and more. Despite what I keep saying about ponies, I have thought of letting her take horse-riding lessons. There are places we can access."

"Let's see after we've been to Ohio. If she's keen after riding our pony there, then a course of lessons would be a nice Christmas present for her. I wouldn't mind funding those."

"That would be nice. I am buying Caroline a cello of her own for Christmas, as I promised.

Andy gazed across at Miranda's beautiful profile. It remained a thing of beauty she never tired of observing. Miranda gave the little humming noise she did whenever she was thinking about something.

The proposed trip to Andy's home to meet all her family and celebrate Thanksgiving with them loomed large in the Priestly family plans for the next few weeks. Miranda had mixed feelings about it, which she kept firmly hidden. They were half excitement, but also half fear of being judged and found unworthy by the Sachs' boisterous extended family.

She was very keen to see Jenny, Andrea's mother again, someone she would trust with her deepest secrets and who she truly loved and admired. But she was also conscious that Andrea's father had not darkened their door since the start of their relationship.

Even more alarming was the thought of meeting Andy's four older siblings and their partners, and their children. This more than slightly gave her the heebie-jeebies. Then there was a grandmother who lived with them and whom Andy said she adored. That lady might veto their whole relationship. Her own experience of grandmothers wasn't at all positive.

It was very strange, but since she had fallen in love with Andy, much of Miranda's old arrogance and self-confidence seemed to have dissolved like melted snow. Her insecurities seemed to have multiplied in direct proportion to how much she loved her young and beautiful fiancée. It was hard to stay looking impassive and assured, when one's heart was thumping, and one just felt unworthy on every level.

Andy, as she did so often, seemed to be able to read Miranda's mind. She looked at her with adoration and whispered, "Don't worry, darling. I can't wait to show you the wonderful nothingness of rural Ohio, and my family will love you, and the twins. We'll have a ball!"

"Have you made sure the flights are all booked, and still running? Are you sure the twins and I shouldn't put up in a local hotel?"

"Of course the flights are booked, and Miranda, mother would have a fit if we even talk of staying anywhere but at home! She's dying to see us all. Trust me, there's nothing to worry about. Now I must go down and see to our new little Pumpkin kitten. He'll be wanting his breakfast"

"What am I supposed to do then?"

Miranda looked forlorn as though she'd been hoping for even more love and attention.

"You, Madame, can get dressed. And if you come downstairs in ten minutes there will be scaldingly hot coffee waiting for you. Now, why don't you practising saying that in Italian? Oh, and I'm sorry darling, but wear something with a high neck. It might be wise."

Andrea disappeared, but just as Miranda had finished dressing, Cassidy came to find her, actually cuddling their newest family member, Pumpkin, the Hallowe'en kitten. He had recovered well in the few days he'd been living with them, and could now lap milk properly and manage a few spoonsful of kitten food.

He walked across Miranda's bed very confidently and made her and Cassidy both laugh as he disappeared under the covers.

Miranda's nerves settled. Andrea loved her. Her daughters loved her. And the rescued kitten would survive and do well. She tried to remember the word for kitten in Italian as she and Cassidy chased him round the bed.

"Il gattino." That was it.

"Coffee's ready!"

They could hear Andy calling up the stairs. Cassidy grabbed Pumpkin and as Caroline finished her music practice, they all went down to breakfast together. Miranda hugged both her little daughters and beamed at them. She had so much to be thankful for.

"Why are you wearing that polo necked top, Mom? Won't you be too hot?" asked Caroline. But her mother didn't answer directly and changed the subject with a question of her own.

"Your cello playing sounded beautiful this morning, darling. Is that a new piece?"

Andrea said nothing at all. She just stirred the oatmeal, seemingly deep in thought.