Amara had been too upset to reply. She has avoided Philos since then, though she still took his advice. She wore her white dress when Rufus returned, lavished him with affection, professed her boundless loyalty, enthused about the house. She even apologized for her own grief, fearing that it might have marred all he had done for her. Rufus was gracious in reassuring her that he understood. He never mentioned her friend by name and neither did she.
Amara doesn’t have to name Dido to think about her. When she is alone, she spends time standing in the atrium at the same place where Dido stood, trying to take comfort from the fact she was here, in this very house – she saw it, she touched it. Amara remembers their conversations, Dido’s kindness, her surprising boldness when she performed, the way she sang, with a grace like no other. But at night, she cannot blot out her last memory, the blood on Dido’s face, the pain and the horror.
Amara realizes her hands are shaking. She puts Pliny’s letter away. Dido deserves more than private mourning. From her desk drawer, Amara takes a crude wooden carving, a small statue of the goddess Diana, armed with her hunting bow. She wraps the figure in cloth, ties around the label she has written. I am the gift of Gaia Plinia Amara, Liberta.
She gets up, walks down the stairs, looking across the open space. In the garden, painters will soon be starting work on a large fresco. Rufus had seen it as a delightful sign that she is so thrilled with the house, that she wants to make it special for them both, make it somewhere suitable for him to stay. He had been less certain about the myth she chose. It will be Acteon turning into a stag, while his own hounds tear him apart. Wouldn’t she prefer scenes from the legends of Venus, rather than Diana? Perhaps the virgin goddess isn’t quite the thing for a love nest? But Amara laughed, teasing him. We can always have Venus in the bedroom.
She steps down into the atrium. A young woman is waiting by the pool. Amara hurries over. The girl is early, and Amara knows she has very little time to herself. It is Pitane, the waitress from The Elephant, the one who owes Amara for her abortion.
“It’s beautiful,” Pitane says, looking round. “How well you’ve done! I can’t believe it!”
“I’m sorry you can’t stay longer or have some wine with me,” Amara replies. “But I know what it’s like. I’m grateful you spared the time to come at all.”
“It’s no trouble,” Pitane says. “I’m on a run for supplies. They’ll never notice.”
Amara hands her the wooden statue, hidden in its cloth. “Could you give this to Paris for me please? It is for his master. Paris should tell Felix that I apologize the gift is too late for the Saturnalia. But it has not been sent with any less feeling. Can you remember all that?”
“Of course!” Pitane nods. “You’re nicer than me I must say. If I got my freedom from a new master, I wouldn’t be sending Sittius any fucking presents.”
Pitane turns and walks across the atrium, slipping through the heavy wooden door. Amara stands alone, shivering slightly from the breeze. It is quiet here. She pictures Pitane, rejoining the noise and the chaos, carrying her Diana through the streets of Pompeii. And when her gift arrives, Amara knows Felix will understand what it means.
Acknowledgments
A book is the product of the hard work of many people and I’m so grateful to the whole team at Head of Zeus. Thank you to Madeleine O’Shea whose thoughtful advice and enthusiasm made editing a joy, also to Charlotte Greig, Anna Nightingale and Laura Palmer. Thank you to Hollie Ovenden for the beautiful cover art and a huge thanks to everyone in sales, publicity and marketing. Above all to Kate Appleton, Jessie Sullivan, Jennifer Edgecombe, Jade Gwilliam, and Avneet Bain. Last but not least, thank you to Anthony Cheetham, whose passion for this project is what led to the trilogy being commissioned.
Friendship runs through the Wolf Den and also ran through the writing of it. Thank you to Andrea Binfor for a lifetime of love and for traipsing round Pompeii with me for so many hours. And a massive thank you to Dan Jones for endless Pompeii advice, support, pep talks and encouragement.
Thanks also to Jason Farrington, to Jo Jacobson for ‘Pliny’s’ Ammonite, to Kristina Holt, to Anna, Trilby and Bethan for loving me in spite of the ginger cat, to Daniel Kiss for checking my translations, and to Kate Prout for putting up with a whole night of Pompeii documentaries.
Love and gratitude always to Juliet Mushens, for being the best, both as an agent and a friend. Thanks also to Liza de Block, Buki Papillon, Caroline Lea, Claire McGlasson, Jennifer Saint, Laura Purcell and all my fellow writers at Team Mushens and the Debuts 2021 Twitter group. Thank you too, to all the supportive book bloggers.
Closer to home, my Mum Suzy Kendall is my first reader and most enthusiastic cheerleader, my Dad Sandy Harper was my first and favourite story-teller, and my son Jonathon fills every day with love.
And then there are my siblings – this book is for you. Thank you to Ruth for being a wonderful sister-in-law and for sharing so much of your own beautiful, writing life. I have such admiration for you. Thank you to Eugenie for being the best sister I could have hoped for - you turned up, uninvited, at the hardest time and gave me hope. Whenever I feel down, I remember the way you were there when I needed you most. And thank you to my brother Tom, for keeping me company throughout all the ups and downs, always understanding, never judging and for being a source of constant love and support. How lucky I am to be your sister.
About the author
ELODIE HARPER is a journalist and prize-winning short story writer. Her story ‘Wild Swimming’ won the 2016 Bazaar of Bad Dreams short story competition, which was judged by Stephen King. She is currently a reporter and presenter at ITV News Anglia, and before that worked as a producer for Channel 4 News. She can be found online at elodieharper.com.
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Copyright
First published in the UK in 2021 by Head of Zeus Ltd
Copyright © Elodie Harper, 2021
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