Bride By Choice

CHAPTER TEN

WHEN Fede had led Baptista from the room Lorenzo took hold of Helen’s arms and moved her until he could push her gently down to sit on the bed.

‘Helen, I want you to listen to me very seriously,’ he said, still speaking in the new tone, as though it wasn’t really Lorenzo, but some older, more serious man who had taken his place. ‘Somehow we have to deal with this mess.’

‘We? It’s my mess. I’ll sort it.’

‘You can’t. Not alone. We have to present a united front.’

Her laugh had a touch of hysteria. ‘What did you do last time? No, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.’

‘It’s a fair question. I vanished for several days. Your way is more courageous.’

‘Sure, I’m a real heroine, aren’t I?’ she said bitterly.

‘Yes, you are. With all that pressure from your family and mine, with me so determined to marry you at all costs that I never gave you time to think-you found the guts to say no to the lot of us. Good for you, although-’ his mockery was directed at himself, ‘I can’t say I’m feeling great about it right now.’

‘You’re actually defending me?’

‘What should I do? Rail about how shocking it is to leave someone at the altar? Me?’

‘But you’re a man. Remember telling me that a woman just couldn’t do such a thing in Sicily?’

‘That was long ago, and we were making jokes. I said many things-ah, Helen, the things I said!’ He voice shook suddenly and he moved away so that she couldn’t see his face.

His pain was almost tangible. She wanted to reach out to him, but she’d shut herself off from that, forever.

There was a knock on the door. She darted to the window, not wanting to be seen by the servant who’d brought the tray, and went out onto the terrace. From here she could see the courtyard where there were still several cars, and suddenly Giorgio and his wife emerged.

After a moment Lorenzo came to fetch her. He too stood watching Giorgio’s departure, until the man himself became aware of them, regarding him from above. An ugly grin split his face, and he raised both hands until the back of his knuckles were against his forehead, the index fingers pointing upwards, so that the effect was of a pair of horns. Then he dashed for the car.

Horns. The sign of the cuckold.

‘Did he mean-?’ Helen began, incensed.

Lorenzo shrugged. ‘He’s an ignorant man. Forget him.’

He led her back inside. ‘Perhaps you should change?’ he suggested.

Most of her clothes were packed up in suitcases, ready for the honeymoon, but she found a pair of jeans and a sweater and took them into the bathroom. When she emerged Lorenzo had poured her a coffee and set out some sandwiches. She recalled her mother, whose solution to all problems was food, and realised, with a sense of shock, that Lorenzo was caring for her in the same way.

She took some of the sandwiches he pressed on her, and drank the black coffee, heavily sweetened, because somehow this new Lorenzo understood that she was in a state of shock even greater than his own.

‘Aren’t you having some too?’ she asked.

‘No, I don’t need it.’

He would get drunk later.

She wondered what was happening downstairs where a multitude of guests must be fed and, more difficult, given some sort of explanation. The enormity of what she’d done suddenly hit her like a hammer.

‘Oh, my God!’ she said, sitting down on the bed suddenly.

‘What is it?’ He sat beside her.

‘All those people down there-all that food-the wedding cake-’

‘Don’t worry,’ he said lightly. ‘We’ve done this before.’

‘How can you make a joke of it?’

‘It’s better than weeping.’ But then the attempted humour fell from his face, and she caught a glimpse of the reality, an emotional man hurt to the heart and near breaking point.

‘How would you like me to act, Helen? Like your version of a Sicilian male, wield a knife, threaten blood vengeance on you and your family to the third generation? That’s what we do, isn’t it?’ A bitter mockery of her and her prejudices underlay the calm tone. ‘And you know what?’ he went on wryly, ‘Part of me would like to do all those things. But it’s not my style, and I don’t think I could carry it off.’

If only she could comfort his pain, but she’d forfeited that right forever. She could do nothing but watch him suffer.

‘So,’ he said at last, ‘what are we going to do?’

‘The sooner I leave Sicily the better.’

‘No. The more I think about it, the more it seems to me that you mustn’t return to New York.’

‘I can’t stay here.’

‘That’s exactly what you ought to do. Why should you run away as though you’d done something wrong, when we both know that you haven’t?’ He’d fixed his gaze at somewhere just over her left shoulder. ‘If you go back, can you imagine what your life will be like-your mother and father, that great oaf, making your life a misery?’

‘I shall have my job.’

‘Of sorts. Elroys won’t be pleased at you running out on the task they’ve given you here. You’ll be relegated to the backwaters. Stay at this job for a couple of years, make a success of it, then go back in triumph. But if you return now-it makes my blood run cold to think of you exposed to Giorgio’s vindictiveness when I’m not there to-’ He broke off.

‘To protect me? Say it.’

‘It doesn’t matter. You know I’m right. I made things go wrong for you. Let me help to put them straight again. You needn’t be afraid of my troubling you. All that is at an end between us. But there can still be a kind of friendship.’

‘After this?’

‘Why not? Heather and I became brother and sister. You and I had a good friendship. We should have treasured it for what it was, and not tried to overload it. Let me help you. Please, Helen.’

He was right. The thought of going home wasn’t pleasant, but it had never occurred to her that she could remain here. Whichever way she looked the future seemed to be a blank.

‘If only I knew what to do,’ she said desperately.

‘But I know. You should heed your friend’s advice.’ He took her hands between his and she felt the warmth and strength from him flowing into her.

‘I’ll drive you to Palermo now,’ he said, ‘and you can move into the hotel. We’ll leave here by the back way so that you won’t have to see anyone. Just take an overnight bag and I’ll send your luggage on later. Leave all the explaining to me. And don’t worry. Everything is going to be all right.’

Helen’s office in the Elroy-Palermo was spacious, richly furnished with antiques, and only slightly less grandiose than Axel Roderick’s. From the start she had a lot of power since he’d recognised her flair and was eager for her to use it, as long as he looked good.

The renovations were proceeding fast and it would soon be time for the grand opening. She was working an eighteen-hour day now, thankful that she had her own room in the hotel, and even more thankful that work left her no time to think.

‘By the way,’ Axel said to her one morning, ‘it seems that your Martelli connections are going to benefit us, even if you didn’t marry one of them. Well done for putting the company first.’

‘Sorry?’

‘Didn’t you negotiate the Martelli contract?’

‘I don’t interfere with the running of individual departments.’

‘Sure, sure, that’s the story. But why are they giving us rock bottom prices and their very best produce if not for you, eh? Well done! Keep it up.’

He was convinced and there was no persuading him otherwise. And, since Helen could hardly complain to Martellis that their prices were too low, she was forced to accept the situation.

Nobody could get to see her without an appointment, but she made an exception when her secretary announced that Signora Heather Martelli had arrived. It was two months since the aborted wedding and the first time she’d spoken to Heather since, and she wondered what they could possibly say. But Heather had brought her baby, and in exclaiming over him the ice was broken.

‘Did you hear about Angie’s baby?’ Heather asked as Angie cradled little Vittorio.

‘Yes, it was in the newspaper. Is Bernardo disappointed that it’s a girl?’

‘You must be kidding. He’s over the moon. His little piccina has only to gurgle and he turns to jelly.’

‘Bernardo?’

Heather chuckled. ‘Yes, even Bernardo. It’s amazing what happiness can do to a man. You should see my Renato, always sneaking a few minutes off work to come and “see that Vittorio is all right”. And when he and Bernardo get together they swap baby stories. It’s helped to bring Bernardo into the heart of the family. He’s even going to take the Martelli name. That makes Baptista so happy.’

She paused a moment before adding, ‘Something else made her happy too, that letter you wrote her.’

‘I had to write after slipping out like that without seeing her-I shouldn’t have done it-’

‘No, Lorenzo explained that he’d persuaded you, and Baptista said he was right. She was glad when I told her I was coming to visit you. We’ve worried about you, stranded alone here. We hoped you’d come back to see us.’

‘How could I-after everything-?’

‘You needn’t worry about Lorenzo. He’s in Spain.’

Helen found something to do on her desk. ‘How is he?’

‘Making a big success. He’s a great salesman.’

Helen nodded. ‘Yes, once he gets talking he can sell anything to anybody,’ she murmured wryly.

‘But sometimes he leaves important things out,’ Heather said. Her eyes were gentle.

Helen nodded, uncertain how much it would be wise to say.

‘He told me why you broke it off. If only he’d explained everything to you long ago this could all have been avoided. Helen, you must believe me, Lorenzo and I were never really in love. We fancied we were for a time, but we’d never have got engaged if Renato hadn’t pushed us into it. One of them had to marry and provide a Martelli heir, and he didn’t want to bother. So, having met me and looked me over, he decided that I was suitable, and more or less ordered Lorenzo to propose.’

‘And he did?’

‘Lorenzo was different in those days. More of a boy, not the man he’s become now. He looked up to Renato as the head of the family, and, as I say, we were briefly infatuated; enough to think it might work. So I came here to marry him, but then Renato and I fell in love.

‘But what could we do? The wedding was only a few days away. How could we tell Lorenzo? Luckily he sensed the truth, and had the courage to walk out of the cathedral and save us all from disaster. It was terrible at the time, but Renato and I will be grateful to him all our lives for leaving us free to marry.’

‘But-’ Helen couldn’t go on.

‘You heard Sara’s version, highly coloured for revenge. What else did she say?’

‘That Baptista arranged your marriage.’

‘Oh, she did. Renato and I were left floundering, at odds with each other, not knowing what to say. We might still be floundering if she hadn’t found a way to settle things, but it was a love match for all that.’

‘You weren’t pining for Lorenzo?’

‘Not for a moment.’

Helen said the next words with difficulty. ‘When Lorenzo went to England and called you-Sara said you promised to be with him that night.’

‘I had to. He called me in a panic to say he’d been arrested, and I promised to be there by evening to bail him out. But when I got there they wouldn’t let him out in case he left the country, so he had to sleep in the cell.’

‘But why was he arrested?’

‘He was driving a fraction over the limit, and when a policeman stopped him he took a swing at him. Actually he barely touched him. Even the policeman admitted that in court next morning. And there was no accident, nobody hurt. The magistrate fined him and told him not to be such an idiot another time. Then we fled the country as fast as we could, and were back here later that day. I’m sure Sara made it sound like a lovers’ assignation, but actually it was that incident that really made us brother and sister. Lorenzo says I nagged him all the way home, without pausing for breath.’

‘Oh, heavens!’ Helen buried her face in her hands. ‘I’ve been such a fool.’

‘No, Lorenzo has been a fool. He should have told you everything, but that’s his way-put it off and hope for the best. At least, that’s how he used to be. These days I’m not so sure.’

‘You two always seemed so close-’

‘We are close. I love him dearly-as a brother. And there’s a special bond between people who have nearly married and then didn’t.’

Helen’s smile was sad. She had neither seen nor heard from Lorenzo since that day. He had taken her to the hotel, bid her a courteous goodbye, and driven off. The next morning her bags were delivered. Since then, silence. Well, what else had she expected?

The year was closing in, but Palermo remained a pleasant place where it was possible to eat at the pavement cafés even in December. Helen decided to remain where she was for Christmas and immure herself in her hotel apartment, concentrating on a thousand problems, including the big one that still plagued her-how to get huge publicity for the hotel’s February opening.

The management back in New York had insisted on this unlikely date so that the name of the Elroy Palermo could establish itself before the summer. They were expecting Axel Roderick to open with something spectacular, but so far he hadn’t thought of the crucial idea. Nor had she, and time was pressing.

Sometimes, late at night, she would close her office and stroll across to her two room apartment. She would listen to her own footsteps in the darkened building, and consider how far she had come since that day, nearly a year ago, when she had returned from Boston to New York, eager to complete her training and become a successful businesswoman.

She’d done it. She had power, authority, and a large salary. Her word was listened to with respect and no family demands tied her down. She had everything she’d always wanted.

But she was alone.

Her ambitions had never included that, because she couldn’t have anticipated meeting the man who’d combined love and laughter and left an impression on her heart that she couldn’t erase. From her apartment window she could just make out the lights of Mondello harbour, where the Santa Maria lay. And Lorenzo’s words seemed to echo about her.

‘-what you never thought of was that I belonged to you-I loved you more than I’ve ever loved anyone, or ever will again-better if we had never met- All that is at an end between us-’

He’d offered her friendship, but friendship could never be enough. She knew, now it was too late, that she loved him more than life. She wanted to belong to him in the equal compact of belonging that he’d spoken of. But he no longer wanted her.

All that is at an end between us.

One afternoon when the chatter of voices grew too much for her, she slipped out of the hotel for some fresh air and went walking down by the harbour. She didn’t mean to head for the Santa Maria, but somehow her feet found their way there, and stopped so that she could look wistfully at the bobbing single tall mast.

‘Helen, how good to see you?’

She looked around to see Bernardo, smiling.

‘How are you?’ she asked politely.

‘Better than ever in my life before.’

‘Congratulations on your baby.’

‘You haven’t seen her yet, have you? That’s terrible. Come with me to Montedoro now.’

‘Oh, I don’t think-’

‘Of course you must. I’ll drive you back afterwards.’

He was steering her towards his car, his hand tucked firmly under her arm. It would be pleasant to see Angie, whom she’d always liked.

As they climbed the mildness of the coastal climate fell away, and when Montedoro appeared just up ahead, its roofs were white with a light dusting of snow. Soon they had reached the beautiful old house with its courtyard and fountain, where Bernardo had been born and spent the first twelve years of his life. As they made their way through the courtyard Angie’s face appeared at the window.

‘I’ve brought someone to see you,’ Bernardo said, kissing his wife.

Angie embraced her warmly and Helen said, ‘I’m longing to see your little baby.’

‘She’s just through there,’ Angie said, pointing behind. ‘But Helen-’

‘What? Did I come at a bad time?’

Angie seemed to make a decision. ‘No, you came at a perfect time. Just go through.’

She pointed the way to the comfortable main room, and Helen went ahead. But on the threshold she stopped.

‘Hello,’ Lorenzo said.

He was sitting by the fire, the baby in his arms. In the split second before he looked up Helen took in the whole picture, the unselfconscious way he held the child, smiling into her face. It flashed across her mind that she’d never seen anything so delightful.

Then his face seemed to close against her. His smile faded, replaced by a polite formality that shut her out.

‘Hello,’ he said again.

‘I-thought you were in Spain.’

‘I got back yesterday. I had to come and visit my niece.’

‘I met Bernardo and he insisted on bringing me to see Helen and the baby.’

A touch of warmth returned to his face. ‘She’s a charmer. Come and see.’

He indicated the place on the sofa beside her and when she’d sat down he gently placed the infant in her lap.

‘How are you with babies?’ he said.

‘You ask me that? With all the relations I’ve got?’

‘Me, too. I’ve been practising for years.’

They exchanged cautious smiles.

‘What’s her name?’ Helen asked.

‘It’s still under discussion. She’ll have several names, Anna, Baptista, Lenora and Marta. But which one will come first will probably be argued about until the day of the baptism.’

Angie bustled in with coffee and cakes. Lorenzo declined, having already eaten, and took the baby back into his arms. He had none of the awkwardness so many young men showed with babies. His pleasure in her was genuine.

He was thinner, and there was a new tension about him, as though he’d lived the last few weeks on hot coals. Lorenzo, whose nature was so carefree, now looked as though care was a constant companion.

My doing, she thought sadly. He said it would have been better if we’d never met, and it would have been-for him. As for me…

Would she really be ready to wipe out the memories she had left, sweet memories of affection and laughter before it all went wrong?

‘Helen?’

She came back to reality to realise that Lorenzo was staring at her. ‘I asked you how the hotel was going. But you were in a daze.’

‘It’s the fire,’ she said quickly. ‘The warmth is sending me to sleep. The hotel is fine. I seem to spend my days chasing workmen, but it’ll all be done in time. How did your Spanish trip go?’

‘Very well. Even Renato is pleased with me, and he doesn’t throw praise around.’

In this way they managed to get a very reasonable conversation going for about half an hour. It was astonishing, Helen realised, how much meaningless talk two people could indulge in without once touching the bitter reality that lay between them.

‘I should be going,’ she said at last.

‘Yes, the light’s fading,’ Lorenzo agreed, handing the baby back to Angie. ‘May I give you a lift?’

Helen hesitated. To refuse would be churlish. And if she insisted on Bernardo taking her he would also have to drive back up the mountain in the dark and the gathering snow.

‘Thank you,’ she said.

Bernardo saw them out to Lorenzo’s car and waved them off before going back to his wife who was getting ready to feed the baby.

‘It was nice of you to bring Helen,’ she remarked placidly as she settled the infant.

‘Yes, it was a lucky chance bumping into her,’ he agreed.

‘Did you happen to remember that Lorenzo would be here?’

He shrugged with elaborate casualness. ‘It may have crossed my mind.’

‘You’re a devious schemer,’ she chuckled.

‘That’s right, I am. Do you think we’ll bring it off?’

‘If we don’t, it won’t be for want of trying.’

For a while the winding mountain road took up all Lorenzo’s attention, so the silence was natural. Sometimes Helen stole a glance at his profile, then looked away quickly before he could notice her. It hurt her to see the weary sadness that seemed a part of him now. As the road straightened out she said, for something to say, ‘It’s not like me to take an afternoon off. I shall have to make up for it this evening.’

‘How are the plans going for the grand opening?’ he asked politely.

‘Not well. I still don’t have the big idea.’

‘You should call your friend Frank, the one you told me about in New York, with all the show business connections.’

‘Good heavens, I never thought of Frank,’ she said. ‘He knows people in the movies too.’

‘You need a celebrity birthday,’ Lorenzo advised. ‘Tell them to come and have the party here, and the Elroy will lay it on for free.’

‘Of course! Where are my wits? I’ll start work on it as soon as get back. We’re nearly there-hey, this is the wrong turning.’

‘It’s the right turning for where I’m going,’ he said calmly. ‘There’s a little place just up here, owned by a friend of mine, where we can talk.’

He parked the car, helped her out with impersonal hands, and led her to a café by a square where the trees had been hung with lights. Now they had left the mountain snow behind it was still just about warm enough to sit outside.

‘What did you want to talk about?’ she asked, when Lorenzo’s friend had brought them almond biscuits and prosecco, the light, sparkling wine that Italians drink on all occasions.

‘Christmas,’ he said. ‘Mamma wants you to come to us. She minds a lot that you haven’t been to see her.’

‘But how can I?’

‘Your quarrel is with me, not her.’

‘I have no quarrel with you, Lorenzo. How could I have when you’ve been good to me?’

‘I’m just putting right the wrong I did you,’ he said quickly.

‘Heather came to see me,’ she said impulsively. ‘She told me what really happened.’

‘She told you what I should have told you from the start. Let’s not argue about whose fault it really was. We know the truth. I was afraid to tell you because I was scared you’d think me “faithless and unreliable” and I’d lose you. I brought it on myself.’

‘But you must have known I’d find out,’ she said. ‘What did you think-?’

‘Helen, have you known me all this time without realising that I don’t think? I’m not a long-term planner like Renato, or a man who calculates details like Bernardo. I fly. Then I crash to earth and survey the wreckage and wish I’d done a bit of thinking in the first place.’

‘I’m not sure you’re still like that, Lorenzo.’

‘Well, it’s true I’ve been taking a hard look at myself recently. I’m not pleased with what I’ve seen.’

‘Don’t change too much,’ she said impulsively. ‘You wouldn’t be you if you became earthbound.’

He didn’t answer and she realised that he was looking at something over her shoulder. A gang of young men were regarding them with fascination. At the same moment they all raised their hands to make horns, as Giorgio had done when he left. The sign of the cuckold. Then they burst into raucous laughter.

Lorenzo put his hand firmly on hers. ‘Ignore them,’ he said calmly. ‘Just smile and talk, but never weaken. Don’t give them that satisfaction.’

Someone had started playing an accordion under trees, and a few couples were dancing. Lorenzo took her hand and got to his feet.

‘Come along,’ he said firmly. ‘Let’s really make their eyes pop.’

‘You can’t dance with me,’ she said, scandalised.

‘Just try and stop me.’

It was unnerving to be in his arms again, twisting and turning to the music, trying not to be aware of him as a thrilling male entity. Pretending, as she had always been.

‘I don’t know how you can do this,’ she said in a low voice. ‘I’m strung up the whole time.’

‘You can do it because I’m here to help you.’

How kind his eyes were. In the past she’d seen them wicked and sparkling, but now it was their quiet kindness that struck her most.

‘It must be worse for you,’ she said. ‘Do you imagine I don’t know what that gesture means? Do they really think I left you for another man?’

‘They don’t know how to think,’ he said lightly. ‘I know that crowd. Tonio, Enrico, Carlo, Franco, Mario. I used to fight with most of them when I was at school. They’re ignorant and they have nothing better to do.’

‘They despise you for putting up with it, don’t they?’ she demanded hotly. ‘So why do you?’

‘Hey, c’mon, I’m big enough and ugly enough to look after myself.’

He gave her a grin of reassurance as though he was on top of the world, just like the old, boyish Lorenzo. But she would never see him like that again.

He’d said ‘ugly’, but he wasn’t ugly. He was handsome enough to have any woman he wanted, but he chose to be here, protecting a woman who’d insulted him, exposing himself to derision, because he believed she needed his help and support. Her eyes pricked.

‘Don’t cry,’ Lorenzo said frantically. ‘What will people think?’

‘They’ll think you’re having a go at me, and respect you for it,’ she said, hastily blowing her nose.

‘Stuff that! Do you think I want their good opinion at your expense? Act as if everything’s normal between us.’

‘I’m not sure what that means,’ Helen said, pulling herself together. ‘What is “normal between us”? We’ve always been playing parts, right from the start when we were just going to be friends.’

He gave a grunt of laughter. ‘I used to take cold showers every night, just thinking of you.’

‘That’s what I mean. We’ve never been honest with each other about anything.’

‘I suppose that’s true,’ he mused. ‘Perhaps it’s time we started.’

Something in his tone made her look up to discover his mouth close to hers. He brushed her lips lightly, but did no more, watching for her reaction.

‘That wasn’t wise,’ she said in shaking voice.

‘It was honest,’ he said. ‘And I wanted to do it.’

‘But you said-’

‘What did I say?’ he whispered, so close that his breath touched her face.

‘I forget.’

Their lips were touching again and joy seemed to stream through her as though a window had opened onto sunlight. She had been so unhappy, and now it seemed as though everything might be given back to her. This time she would know how to protect and treasure it.

‘Come back to the villa,’ he murmured. ‘There’s so much we must talk about.’

‘All right.’

He led her back to the table. While she was gathering her things Helen was vaguely aware of Lorenzo lifting a paper that had been slipped under his wine glass. When she looked at him he was staring at it, frozen. She reached for it too quickly for him to stop her.

It was a swiftly drawn sketch, crude but effective, of a woman walking a poodle on a leash. The woman’s face was just recognisable as her own, while Lorenzo’s face had been substituted for the poodle’s.

‘That’s what they think of you because you act like a civilised human being?’ she raged. ‘And you ask what I’ve always held against this place. Doesn’t this explain it?’

He was deadly pale. ‘It doesn’t matter. I care nothing for them beside-’ He checked himself.

‘I’m not going to let this happen again, Lorenzo. I won’t accept a sacrifice. Please tell your mother that I’m sorry I can’t come over Christmas. In fact, I can’t see you again, ever. Can’t you understand that I mustn’t?’

He didn’t try to prevent her leaving. Just watched her go with a face that was dark with anger, and tore the paper into shreds.