Gino’s Arranged Bride

CHAPTER EIGHT

GINO was home three days later. They had waited until then to tell Nikki, and when the moment came they did so quietly, almost casually, not suggesting that they were in love, but concentrating on her.

Her reaction was all they had hoped.

‘You’re really going to be my daddy?’ she asked Gino, eyes shining. ‘Honestly?’

‘Honestly,’ he assured her.

Anxiety tinged her voice. ‘You won’t go away?’

‘No,’ he said, understanding at once. ‘I won’t go away.’

They set the date three weeks ahead at the local Register Office. The boarding-house family would be the only guests, and Nikki would be the bridesmaid. They spent a happy day together going around the shops, buying Laura’s wedding outfit, a pale ivory dress that would be useful later. With it she wore a flowered hat, while Nikki had a smaller, matching one that shielded her forehead and made her blissfully happy.

‘It’s going to be the best day ever,’ Nikki said.

Gino looked at her, his head on one side.

‘You know,’ he said in a considering voice, ‘people seeing us together, might think we were really father and daughter. We look fairly alike. Our hair is the same colour. And our eyes.’

Nikki placed herself right in front of him, regarding him steadily.

‘We’re not really alike, though, are we?’ she asked.

Laura’s eyes filled with tears. There was no doubting Nikki’s meaning. She was reminding Gino of her damaged face, standing where he couldn’t help but see it, seriously advising him to think what he was taking on.

She was nine years old.

Gino knew when words were useless. Brushing back the hair from the child’s forehead, he drew her to him and laid his lips against the swelling.

‘I think we look exactly alike,’ he said, ‘and if anyone thinks you’re my daughter, I’ll be honoured.’

Laura saw the look that came into the child’s face, and she knew that she was doing the right thing in this marriage.

There was another reason, but one that she wasn’t ready to face yet. The knowledge had come upon her suddenly and without warning, disconcerting and almost scaring her. She still needed to discover what she thought about it, and that was hard with Gino constantly around. There was no chance to stand back and consider when events were moving them closer every day.

A visit to a second-hand furniture shop produced a single bed that they pushed into Laura’s room to stand alongside hers, and a narrow wardrobe that they only just managed to get into the room.

‘Your things don’t take up very much space,’ Laura said, almost in dismay.

He shrugged. ‘I travel light, but don’t worry. I’ll buy a decent suit for the wedding. And there’s something else we ought to talk about.’

A hesitancy, almost an embarrassment in his voice made her look at him quickly, wondering what could follow.

‘I thought we’d covered everything,’ she said, trying to sound casual.

‘We haven’t discussed the help I’ll be giving you with this place. There must be all sorts of jobs I can do, and we must work out what they are. Cooking for instance. You know I’m good at that. I can do the evening meal, and if you insist on still working at the pub I can do breakfast next day, so you can sleep in a bit. We should draw up a roster-is something the matter?’

‘No,’ she said quickly, hoping there wasn’t a note of hysteria in her voice.

‘Then why are you laughing?’

‘It’s the thought of you, drawing up a roster! I didn’t know you were so organised. The state of your room-’

‘Never mind that,’ he said hastily. ‘Just because I’m untidy doesn’t mean I’m not organised.’

‘Doesn’t it?’ she asked innocently.

‘It’ll be better if we make a plan,’ he said, grinning in reluctant acknowledgement. ‘All right, you make the plan, I’ll just follow it.’

‘It’s a lovely idea, Gino, but are you sure you want to?’

‘I’m not just going to be the lodger any more,’ he reminded her quietly.

‘Then I’ll be very glad.’

And that, she thought wryly, would teach her to have unrealistic hopes.

But she cherished their moment of shared humour. It would make the future possible.

Before they left the room she said, ‘What about your family in Italy? Will they be coming?’

‘No,’ he said briefly. ‘Now, come and let me show you how well I can cook eggs and bacon.’

He was gone, hurrying downstairs before she could ask any more questions.

On the appointed day they all went to the Register Office. A brief, dry legal ceremony, and Laura and Gino were husband and wife.

Sadie had a digital camera, courtesy of Compulor, and when they were outside she took picture after picture in various combinations: the bride and groom together, trying not to look too self-conscious; then the two of them with Nikki, standing just in front, beaming with joy; then Nikki and her new father, holding hands, smiling at each other. Looking at those pictures later, Laura knew that the huge gamble she’d taken was worth it.

How different from her first wedding day, when she’d worn a glamorous gown of satin and lace, the reception had been a huge affair at an expensive London hotel, and the guests had been show-business friends.

Now they returned to the boarding house to cut the wedding cake that had been Claudia’s gift, while Sadie busily downloaded pictures and printed them out as her gift. The happy couple were toasted in champagne, a gift from Mrs Baxter, who had returned with good news of her grandchild.

On that first wedding day the bride and groom had flown to the Caribbean for two weeks. Laura had been deliriously in love with a man who adored her. Their honeymoon lovemaking had been golden, ecstatic, and the future had stretched out, glittering with infinite promise.

Laura’s second wedding day ended with her going to work behind the bar, after which her new husband collected her and they walked home quietly together. He made her a cup of tea and they talked for a while about nothing much. Finally they looked in on their sleeping daughter, and went to their room.

There they lay down in their separate beds and each lay alone, staring into the darkness.

After a while Gino raised himself on his elbow and listened until he was sure Laura was sleeping. He got out of bed and went to sit by the window, looking out onto the dark street, and beyond it the park where his life had changed for ever.

He’d done it, he thought, with wry self-mockery. Gino, the playboy who’d always loved lightly, except once, to whom life was a laugh, had made a sensible, arranged marriage, because now that was the only kind of marriage he could make.

He knew he’d surprised Laura by agreeing so readily, but her suggestion had found an echo in his own thoughts. She’d made it easy for him, laying out the terms methodically, saying in every way but words that she was still in love with Steve Deyton, and that he, Gino, was second-best.

His passionate love for Alex, and its brutal ending, had left him in a desert. He must find a purpose for his life, or live in that desert for ever. Love was over, but there was still the warm affection he felt for Laura, and the knowledge that to Nikki he was a blessing. That would have to be enough. He would make it enough.

‘And that’s me set for life,’ he thought with a faint smile. ‘Next stop, middle age. Tomorrow I’ll buy a pipe and slippers.’

He stayed by the window until the first light of dawn began creeping through the streets. Then he dropped a light kiss on his wife’s forehead, being careful not to wake her, and got into bed.

Laura lay without moving, alert behind her closed eyelids, as she had been all night. She had known the moment when Gino went to the window. She had sensed every move he made, practically every breath he drew.

To the last moment she’d clung to the hope that he would take her into his arms and say to hell with their agreement, this was their wedding night and he was going to make love to her.

But when he merely kissed her and turned away she took a long slow breath and told herself to be sensible. She had been sensible for years now, but suddenly it was very hard.

To Nikki’s joy, the circus came to town. Claudia and Sadie astonished everyone by revealing that they were circus nuts.

‘But only if there are no performing animals,’ Claudia said gravely. ‘That we couldn’t countenance.’

‘But we’re assured that there are only acrobats and clowns,’ Sadie chimed in. ‘And we wondered if Nikki would like to come with us.’

Nikki nodded vigorously, and the visit was planned for a Saturday evening. Mrs Baxter was away, staying with her son to help out with the new baby. Bert and Fred had gone out to a football match that would probably end in an evening out with ‘the lads’. So once the trio had left for the circus the house was much quieter than usual.

Laura was looking forward to a meal alone with Gino, and when the phone rang she crossed her fingers, hoping that it was nothing important.

‘I’ll get it,’ Gino said, going out into the hall. ‘Hello?’

‘Is Laura there?’

‘Who wants her?’

‘It’s Mark.’

He’d been meaning to ask Laura about the mysterious ‘Mark’ who called her up out of the blue and for whom she would dash off at a moment’s notice. But the pressure of events had driven it out of his mind, until now.

‘Can you tell me what it’s about?’ he asked.

‘I really need to talk to her urgently. Is she there?’

‘I’ll fetch her,’ Gino said through gritted teeth. ‘By the way, you’re talking to her husband.’

Laura was already emerging from the kitchen, her eyebrows raised in a query.

‘It’s Mark,’ Gino said, adding with heavy significance, ‘he needs to talk to you urgently.’

She whisked the phone out of his hand. ‘Hello, Mark?-what’s all the panic?’ There was a pause during which Gino didn’t even pretend he wasn’t listening. ‘Tonight? Can’t you get anyone else?-All right, I’ll do it. Where do I go?-Is that all the info you can give me?-exactly how sexy?-black lace, OK. I’ll see you there.’

She made some notes, and hung up to find Gino regarding her wryly.

‘I know this is an unusual marriage,’ he said, speaking lightly, ‘but it’s still a little soon for you to be dating other men, isn’t it?’

‘I’m not dating anyone.’

‘Well, pardon me for being cynical, Signora Farnese, but when my wife arranges to meet another man and asks how sexy he wants her to be, then my antenna begins to twitch.’

‘It’s perfectly innocent.’

‘Black lace? Tell me about it.’

His grim tone, so different from anything she’d heard from Gino before, annoyed her enough to make her say, ‘I don’t see why I should. We had an agreement-’

‘It didn’t include you making a fool of me. If it’s so innocent, why the secrecy?’

‘Because you’ll make a big fuss about it.’

‘I’ll make an even bigger one if you don’t tell me.’

Laura sighed and gave up. ‘It’s just a way of earning a little extra money.’

‘Oh, this I have to hear!’

‘It’s very little different to working in a pub.’

‘Except that you have to conceal it from your husband.’

‘I wish you’d stop calling yourself my husband,’ she said crossly.

‘Well, I’m sure we dropped into the Register Office for some reason. Remind me what it was.’

‘Very funny! Look, Mark is an old friend from my dancing days. Now he runs a little agency, organising party entertainment.’

Laura hesitated, realising that the next bit might be rather difficult.

‘Don’t stop,’ Gino encouraged.

‘I deliver good-luck telegrams, birthday greetings that sort of thing. It’s a kind of practical joke because I pretend to be something else-a policewoman, coming to make an arrest, something like that. And then, just when the ‘victim’ is getting agitated, you reveal the truth.’

‘Where does the sexy bit come in?’ Gino asked remorselessly.

‘Well, of course you have to take off the uniform, and show that you’re wearing something pretty underneath.’

‘You mean strip off the uniform, don’t you?’ he demanded in mounting outrage. ‘You’re a stripogram girl, aren’t you?’

‘That’s one way of putting it-’

‘Do you end up wearing anything at all?’

‘Of course I do. It’s not a striptease.’

He gave a grim laugh. ‘You’ll have to forgive me if the distinction is lost on me.’

‘I undress down to satin and lace underwear.’

‘Black lace, I gather?’ he demanded ironically.

‘In this case, yes.’

‘And other times?’

‘It depends what the occasion demands.’

‘And does Mark turn up with your costume?’

‘Only the outer costume-policewoman, traffic warden, soldier, that sort of thing. But I have my own underwear. I keep several items so that I’m ready for anything.’

‘Would you care to rephrase that?’ he asked dangerously.

‘I meant ready for any occasion. As underwear goes it’s really quite proper, and I don’t show all that much.’

‘Laura, how can you be so naïve? You’re going to stand in the middle of a crowd of men and remove your clothes, and you say it’s not a striptease. What do you think a striptease is?’

‘A stripper takes off far more than I do, and ends up almost naked.’

Gino tore his hair. ‘You don’t know how men’s minds work. What matters isn’t what you’re left wearing, but what you’re seen taking off. Just watching it removed is-exciting. It’s meant to be.’

‘You speak as an expert of strip joints, I take it?’

‘Don’t try to turn this around on me. Just watch my lips. I don’t want my wife taking off her clothes in front of other men.’

‘Oh, nonsense! I’ve been doing it for two years.’

‘How come nobody knew?’

‘I don’t do it often. Once a month, maybe twice. It makes a bit of extra money, and I never came to any harm.’

‘You weren’t married to me then, and don’t tell me that you’re not because in the eyes of the world, you are. I am an Italian, not a milky Englishman. I don’t say, “Yes dear, no dear, expose your body if you want to, dear.” I say that what you propose to do is an infamia, and I won’t allow it.’

He was as close to angry as she had ever seen him. His dark eyes glowed with a light that was almost fierce, and his mouth was set in stubborn lines.

‘Don’t tell me what you will and won’t allow,’ she said, incensed. ‘This isn’t the nineteenth century.’

‘I want you to stop,’ he said very deliberately. ‘Do you understand that?’

‘All right, I won’t do it again after tonight.’

‘You won’t do it tonight.’

‘Yes, I will, because I’ve given my word and that’s that. I’ll tell Mark this is the last time, but I won’t let him down.’

Gino glared directly into her eyes. Laura glared back. She’d been her own woman for too long now to take kindly to high-handedness, even from Gino.

At last he turned away sharply, muttering something in Italian that sounded like swearing, and walked out of the front door.

‘Damn!’ she muttered. ‘Damn! Damn!’

After a moment she looked out into the street. There was no sign of Gino, but instinct took her across the road in the direction of the park.

As she’d hoped, he was there, on the same bench as the day they’d met. He was sitting with his hands clasped between his knees, glowering at the ground. He glanced up at her approach, and then away again.

‘Go away,’ he growled as she sat down beside him. ‘Let a man sulk in peace.’

How like him, she thought, to diffuse it with a joke. To think she’d been hoping for a little jealousy.

‘No, you never sulk,’ she said. ‘I’ve never known you to get mad before.’

‘I’ve never known you to be stupid before.’

‘I told you, this will be the last. That’s a promise.’

‘And that’s supposed to make me feel better?’

‘I’m only delivering a birthday card.’

‘With you as the birthday gift? Gift-wrapped, ready to be unwrapped?’

‘The main part is the joke where I tell him he’s under arrest-’

‘No, the main part is where you take your clothes off in front of a crowd of slavering men. Mio Dio! To think the English are supposed to be a cool, calm race! You don’t go tonight.’

‘I do.’

‘You do not. What do you take me for? You think I’ll just sit back and let you leave the house, knowing where you’re going and why?’

‘I haven’t asked you to let me do anything,’ she seethed. ‘Even if we were really married I wouldn’t ask your permission. But we’re not married. It’s an arrangement, that’s all. And you’re breaching the terms.’

‘I don’t recall any terms that cover this situation.’

‘Complete freedom,’ she reminded him. ‘Do what you want, go where you want, have girlfriends and stay out all night if you want.’

‘And when have you seen me going out with anyone else, or being out all night? Have I used any of that freedom?’

‘No, but-well-you could.’

‘When I do, then you can lecture me. Until then, don’t.’

‘Fine. I won’t lecture you, and you won’t give me orders.’

‘The hell I won’t!’

‘Is this the way you carry on in Italy? Like you’re out of the Dark Ages?’

‘No decent Italian wife would even think of doing such a thing-’

‘Then it’s lucky I’m not an Italian wife.’

‘Since that day in the Register Office, you are an Italian wife, and you’ll please behave like one.’

Laura breathed hard. ‘I haven’t time to argue about this. I’ve got to get ready.’

Jumping up, she stormed away across the park, listening for the sound of Gino running after her. But it didn’t come.

Male pride, she thought bitterly. Plus a lot of shouting and thumping his chest like a gorilla. And what did it amount to? Nothing.

Once back in her room she went to the drawer where she kept her costumes for these occasions, and began turfing out the contents, muttering to herself, ‘Black lace with black satin or black lace with red satin? Red, I think. And suspenders with black stockings, plus black lace gloves.’

From down below came the sound she had been waiting for, a door slamming, followed by feet taking the stairs two at a time.

The feet paused outside the bedroom door, as though their owner wasn’t quite as sure of himself as he wanted her to believe. But then the door opened. He came in, shut it behind him and leaned back against it, glowering.

‘Are those your working clothes?’ he asked scathingly, indicating the apparel laid out over the bed.

‘Yes. I’m preparing for my farewell performance. It’ll be exactly the same as all the others I’ve done-’

‘Oh, no it won’t, because I shall be there, watching every move you make.’

‘Meaning you don’t trust me?’

‘Meaning I don’t trust them.’

‘Gino, I don’t think it’s a good idea-’

‘I didn’t ask what you thought. I told you what I was going to do.’

Laura stared at him, wondering if this overbearing man rapping out orders could be the same sweet-tempered pussy-cat she thought she knew.

One thing was growing clearer by the minute. The pussy-cat was actually a tiger, and from now on she needed to be careful.

‘You have a simple choice,’ he went on. ‘I’ll drive you to this place, and be there to drive you home. You’ll introduce me to Mark, and I’ll tell him that it stops here.’

‘I’m perfectly capable of telling him myself.’

‘I’m not sure you’d make it quite convincing enough. The way I’ll tell him, he’ll believe it. Now, we can do it my way, or we can just cancel the whole evening. Unless you think you can get past me.’

She couldn’t fool herself about that. A twenty-ton tank couldn’t have gotten past Gino in this mood.

‘In that case,’ she said, ‘I’m going to have a bath, and get ready.’

When she emerged from the bathroom an hour later she found Gino still in their room. He regarded her with a raised eyebrow.

‘Out,’ she said firmly, pointing at the door. ‘I’m going to get dressed.’

He shrugged and left. Laura prepared herself with great care, knowing that she must maintain a fine balance. She had her job to do, and she owed it to Mark to do it properly. He was a good friend who’d come to her aid with these jobs when money was very tight.

But she must also think of Gino, whose outrage hadn’t abated, although he now disguised it with an ironic demeanour.

He’d said, ‘I am an Italian, not a milky Englishman,’ and she was beginning to understand what that meant. There was a dark, brilliant edge to him, almost a hint of danger, that warned her not to provoke him further.

Over a pair of black lacy panties she slipped on the red satin basque, whose bust was wired to push up her bosom, emphasising its fullness. It was laced up in the front, the edges not meeting, but leaving an inch of skin showing. Then she smoothed the sheer black stockings up her legs, fastening them with suspenders.

She made up her face with delicate precision; just enough, not too much. Finally she slipped on a cotton dress over her erotic finery, and covered that with a coat.

Gino was waiting for her downstairs, and together they went out to the car.

‘Where are we heading?’ he asked.

‘The Angel’s Head. It’s a pub on the other side of town.’

His hackles rose as soon as he saw the place, which was down at heel. From inside came the sound of noisy male singing. Laura thought wryly that perhaps, after all, she was glad Gino was here.

Mark was waiting for them just outside the door. He was a tall, middle-aged man with a fussy manner. Gino relaxed a little, but his greeting to Mark was reserved.

‘Mark, this is my husband,’ Laura said.

‘Well, well, I didn’t know you’d got married.’

‘But you’ll understand why my wife will not be appearing again after tonight,’ Gino said quietly.

‘Ah, well, that would be a pity. I’ve got several things lined up-’

Gino’s voice was like an arctic fog.

‘You’ll have to find somebody else. My wife’s decision is final.’

‘But surely-’

‘Final,’ Gino said, and something about that one soft word stopped Mark in his tracks.

‘Is anyone else coming?’ Laura asked Mark.

‘No, I’m playing the man, tonight,’ he said, then, in answer to Gino’s sharp glance he added quickly, ‘I just provide the background and play the music.’ He held up a cassette player placatingly.

‘OK,’ Gino said briefly.

Inside the pub she went to the cloakroom and put on the policewoman’s uniform that Mark had given her. It was specially designed to be removed easily, being fastened with Velcro.

As a final touch she pushed up her hair beneath the hat to make herself look severe. Now she was ready.

She found Mark waiting for her, also dressed in a police uniform. Gino had vanished.

‘Thank goodness for that!’ Mark said fervently. ‘He’s really scary. So, you won’t be doing this any more after tonight.’

‘That’s what Gino says but-’

‘No, it’s what I say too. I’m not ready to die. You didn’t see how he was looking at me. He’s not a gangster, is he?’

‘Of course not.’

‘Well, he’s possessed by the devil.’

‘Oh, nonsense, he-’ she faded into silence.

Mark was right. Gino wasn’t Gino any more. He was someone else, a man filled with suppressed fury.

‘Here’s your notebook, with your words,’ Mark muttered.

A young man came towards them. ‘Ready?’ he said. ‘Henry Rufford is the fellow in the red shirt.’

‘Here we go,’ Mark muttered.

Assuming stern frowns they pushed through the crowd, which fell silent at the sight of their uniforms, and took up position in front of a large man in a red shirt.

‘Henry Rufford?’ Mark demanded.

‘Yes.’ The man looked nervous.

‘Is that your vehicle outside?’

‘Yes-yes, but-’

‘Are you aware that it’s been reported stolen?’

‘But it can’t-’

‘Officer, read him the report.’

He produced a small cassette radio from under his coat, while Laura began to read from the notebook in a fierce, official voice.

‘Henry Rufford, it is here reported that on the twentieth day of August you did reach the age of fifty-five years, and that in consequence your friends have clubbed together to wish you Happy Birthday!’

Rufford burst out into relieved laughter. Mark hit a button, making music come from the cassette player, and Laura went into action.

With a swift movement she whipped off the jacket, revealing the top of the red satin basque. An appreciative roar went up from the watching men. Then the skirt came off, revealing the rest of the basque, fringed with black lace, and stockings.

She began to sway with the music, smiling at the audience but always keeping her distance. Gradually she began easing the gloves down her arms, and the roars grew.

The sound startled her. Removing a glove was innocent enough, surely?

Just watching it removed is exciting. That was what Gino had said.

She started on the other glove, sliding it down inch by inch. Henry Rufford leapt to his feet and planted himself in front of her, ogling her bosom with eyes that were practically on stalks.

What happened next was too fast for him to follow. The punch that connected with his chin came out of nowhere, knocking him off his feet. As he sprawled on the floor the contents of a beer mug were deposited over him, and a coldly furious voice in his ear said, ‘You’re lucky to be alive.’

‘Gino-’ Laura started to protest.

‘Silenzio,’ he snapped, rising to confront her. ‘You leave this place.’

‘Look-’

‘No, you look. I tried doing it your way. Now we do it my way.’

Before she realised what he meant to do Gino lifted her off her feet. The next moment he was storming out of the building with Laura tossed over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.