Married Under the Italian Sun

CHAPTER NINE

STILL in silence they got into Vittorio’s car and finished the journey back to the estate. Bitterness seethed in Angel. She wanted to rend him and break his heart as he had broken hers.

After this, she would be as calculating as he clearly thought that she was. She would dismiss him from her employment, but not at once. First she must learn everything he could teach her. She would pick his brains clean. Then, when she was strong enough to manage without him, she would throw him out.

He thought she’d been marked by her previous life. Fine! He would discover that she really had been marked, but not in the way that he thought. Revenge would be sweet, she promised herself, and the thought sustained her the rest of the way.

When the house came into sight she said quietly, ‘I’ll get out here.’

‘It’s getting dark. Let me take you a little closer.’

‘Stop the car, right now.’

He did so, and watched as she got out and walked away. She didn’t look back until she was nearly at the house, and then his tail lights were already vanishing into the distance.

In her room she stripped off and showered, scrubbing herself repeatedly, as though she could scrub off the day and everything that had happened. But there was no way to wash away the feel of Vittorio holding her, or the look in his eyes when he’d turned against her. She would remember that look all her life, and hate him for it until the last moment.

She pulled on a towel robe and returned to the bedroom, switching off the light so that she could go and stand at the window. The moon had risen high, casting a silver sheen on the ocean beneath, giving it a look of unearthly peace.

It was no different from any other night, Angel thought wretchedly. That chill, indifferent tranquillity would endure no matter whose heart broke. And perhaps it was better to let her heart break now than put off facing the truth until later. What had happened today had always been bound to happen.

A movement from below made her look down, wondering if Toni had been locked out. But he was there beside her, paws on the window sill.

Who, then, was below?

When she looked out again the moon had gone behind a cloud, filling the garden with darkness, until the cloud passed and she saw who was standing there. Vittorio was gazing up at her and, even in this light, she thought she’d never seen so much misery in a human face-greater, even, than her own.

‘I thought you’d gone home,’ she called down softly.

He simply shook his head.

‘Go to the kitchen door,’ she said.

He was there by the time she reached it and pulled back the bolts. But when she pulled open the door and stood back for him to pass he made no move. She couldn’t see his face, but the tension was there in every line of him.

‘Come in,’ she said, turning to lead the way, and leaving him to lock the door.

Outside the bedroom door he stood back, again refusing to enter until she summoned him, and even then asking, ‘Are you sure that I may?’

‘Come in,’ she said.

He came across the threshold as though fearful, and when she’d closed the door he made no move to touch her.

‘How long had you been out there?’

‘I got halfway home before I turned around. I had to come back and ask-beg your forgiveness. I don’t deserve it. I don’t know what I was thinking of…’

The moment he said ‘beg your forgiveness’ it was all over. Angel placed her fingers over his lips, feeling all pain and anger dissolve, and drew him further inside the room, so that she could sit down on the bed. But instead of sitting beside her he dropped to his knees.

‘Forgive me,’ he said hoarsely. ‘I never meant to speak to you so. I know you are innocent, but inside me I am insane with jealousy. I try not to be. I know that none of it was your fault, but reason has no place in the way I feel about you. Nothing and nobody in the world has ever mattered to me as you do. It frightens me how much you matter. I don’t know what to do.’

‘Must you do anything?’ Angel whispered. ‘Is it so terrible for me to matter?’

‘In a way it is,’ Vittorio said sombrely. ‘Love isn’t simple for me. Today-with you in my arms-such joy, such beauty…greater than I have ever known. You seemed to have taken possession of me, as though my soul were no longer my own.’

A tremor went through him, and she guessed that this was what he feared so much that it tinged love with dread.

And perhaps he was right, Angel thought sadly. She had felt the same, as though he had taken possession of her, and it had made the pain of his hostility all the greater. Wouldn’t it be better to do as he did, and retreat to safety?

But the next moment she knew better. There was no safety for either of them.

‘I turned on you to protect myself.’ He sighed, resting his head against her. ‘It’s the only way I knew to escape you.’

‘If you want to escape me that much, perhaps you should.’

He looked into her face. ‘You would send me away?’

‘I wouldn’t keep you against your will. Vittorio, one part of you still hates me-’

‘No!’ he said violently.

‘Yes. It’s the truth. If I can admit it, why can’t you?’

He gave a wintry smile. ‘Because you have more courage than me. Do you think I don’t know that? I could never truly hate you, not now. But I want so many different things at once-to flee from you, to lose myself in you. Sometimes I think it can never be right for us. There’s too much holding us apart. But then I look at you and I know that nothing must come between us.’

‘I guess we both have our demons,’ she said. ‘And they’re always lying in wait. But just now, let’s forget them.’

‘Say that you forgive me,’ Vittorio whispered.

‘There is nothing to forgive.’ Angel stroked his face. ‘We have to be generous with each other. There’s no other way for us.’

Angel took his face between her hands and kissed him tenderly. ‘We can make it right now,’ she murmured.

But when she tried to put her arms around him he drew back and rose to his feet.

‘Not now,’ he said. ‘It’s too soon-I don’t trust myself…’

‘But if I trust you?’

‘You mustn’t,’ he said with sudden frantic urgency. ‘If I were strong enough I’d go far away and leave you in peace-but I can’t, except for just a little while.’

‘Stay,’ she murmured against his mouth.

‘I can’t-I mustn’t-’

‘Stay.’

She could feel his indecision, the terrible fight he was waging inside his divided self, and for a moment she was sure she’d won. But at the last minute he pulled away.

‘Forgive me,’ he said hoarsely.

And fled.

Angel had a poor night, and went down next morning feeling weary and disgruntled. But a pleasant surprise awaited her.

Through the window she saw Sam walking in the garden on Roy’s arm. She went out, bracing herself for the painful moment when he wouldn’t know her, but to her joy his face lit up and he waved.

‘Angela, darling!’ he cried, opening his arms. ‘It’s lovely to see you again. Where have you been all this time?’

‘I’ve been around,’ she said cautiously. At all costs she didn’t want to say anything that would trouble him.

‘You should have come to see me. I’ve missed you so much.’

‘Never mind, we’re together now. That’s all that matters.’

‘But where are we, my dear? I don’t seem to know this place.’

‘Come and have breakfast, and we’ll talk.’

To her delight, Sam continued to be cheerful and clear-headed over breakfast. Angel told him about the divorce and he nodded in approval.

‘I wondered why I hadn’t seen Joe around recently. I never did like him, you know.’

‘If you want the truth, neither did I,’ she confided, and they laughed like conspirators.

He was Sam again. Her Sam. The twinkle was back in his eye and the warmth in his gaze as it rested on her.

‘Later I’ll show you the estate,’ she said. ‘You’re going to love Italy.’

‘This is Italy?’ He beamed. ‘But that’s wonderful. We always planned for you to come here to study art, remember?’

‘Yes, I do. And you remember? You really do?’

‘Of course I remember, you silly girl. As though I could forget a thing like that!’

Afterwards they went walking through the garden and he admired the flowers. Angel was overflowing with happiness, praying for this time to last.

Toni, who’d taken an instant liking to Sam, was bounding joyfully around him, although some instinct seemed to warn him against colliding with the frail old man. Then a distant bark alerted Toni to Luca, and the next moment the two dogs were racing for each other.

‘Who’s that?’ Sam asked, pointing to the man working at the end of a row of rose bushes.

‘That’s Vittorio.’

She was slightly nervous as he came towards them, wondering if Sam would recall their first meeting and connect him with the distress of the journey home. But Sam was smiling.

‘We’ve met before, haven’t we?’ he said.

‘Well, yes…’ Vittorio began cautiously, looking at Angel for guidance. ‘I was-’

‘No, don’t tell me, let me guess. I’m a bit forgetful sometimes, but I like to remember for myself, if I can. I know, you drove me home. That must be some time ago now.’

‘Just a couple of weeks,’ Vittorio said.

‘Jolly good. Jolly good. So you’re Vittorio?’

‘I work for the signora,’ he said gravely.

‘Well, I’m Sam. Oh, but of course, we’ve met, haven’t we? Have you brought all these roses on? Done a great job. I used to grow roses. You must come and talk to me about them.’

‘Come now,’ Angel said.

It was the start of an odd friendship. Sam and Vittorio took to each other, and over the next few days they had long conversations, apparently in total understanding. It was good to see her grandfather happy, but now Angel never seemed to have more than a moment alone with Vittorio. All the time he was either occupied with Sam or hard at work.

‘It will be harvest soon,’ he said. ‘And you want everything to be at its best.’

‘I might think you were still avoiding me,’ she suggested.

He gave her a brief kiss.

‘No, I want us to be together, but I won’t neglect my duty, even for you.’

‘What about your duty to me?’

He grinned. ‘I thought Sam came first?’

‘He does, it’s just-I miss you.’

It was a disconcerting part of Sam’s problem that he wasn’t equally confused about everything. He could still remember every funny story he’d ever heard, especially the rude ones, as Vittorio remarked with relish. And his ability to play chess was unimpaired. He’d trounced Roy and Frank so often that there was no more pleasure in it, and when he discovered that Vittorio was an expert player he fell on him with delight.

‘Thank you for being so kind to him,’ Angel said once. ‘I love hearing him laugh with you.’

‘I’m not being kind. I enjoy his company. He’s fantastic. And he can beat me at chess.’

‘I wondered if you were letting him win.’

‘Well, I’m not,’ he said in a chagrined voice. ‘And stop laughing.’

‘I can’t help it. It’s so wonderful to see him happy.’

‘He really is the only person in the world whom you care for, isn’t he?’

She touched his face. ‘You know better than that.’

With such moments they got by, sometimes stealing some time alone together, but more often having to be satisfied with being in the same room in the company of others. Sam’s friendship had made Vittorio part of the family, and it was a rare evening when he didn’t join them to watch television, play chess and study Angel silently.

Rescue came in the form of a weekend of Celebration Road, which Sam was determined not to miss.

‘Episodes from the archives,’ he explained. ‘Some of them haven’t been seen for years, so you won’t disturb me, will you, darling?’

‘I promise,’ Angel said fervently. ‘Would you-would you mind if I was away overnight?’

‘Anything you like, darling. Oh, look, it’s starting!’

Leaving him blissfully content, she was able to escape with Vittorio to wander the streets of Amalfi, doing little, saying less, needing nothing but each other. They stopped off in a newsagent, and while he bought a paper she looked around the shop and noticed a poster, advertising a lottery with a big roll-over prize that week.

‘Hey, I want to enter that,’ she said. ‘One ticket, please.’

‘Me too,’ Vittorio called. ‘Will you get me one?’

‘What about the numbers?’

‘You pick them for me.’

She bought two tickets, giving two sets of six numbers, and joined him on the way out of the shop.

‘Here’s your…’ she began to say, but he interrupted her, pointing to where a horse and carriage waited by the kerb, the driver looking around hopefully.

‘That’s the best way to travel,’ Vittorio said.

‘Lovely!’

It was a charming vehicle, painted yellow with blue and white cushions, and a large sunshade. He handed her aboard, calling, ‘Anywhere!’ to the driver, who hopped up behind the horse, which set off.

‘I’ve seen these when I’ve been here before,’ Angel said in delight, as the horse trotted through tiny, winding streets. ‘I’ve always wanted to take one. Oh, I forgot, your ticket.’

He gave her the price of one ticket and she said, ‘Which one do you want?’

He shrugged. ‘You choose.’

Holding them up in one hand she began to intone, ‘Eeeny, meeny-hey!’

The yell was jerked from her as the carriage jolted hard, throwing her against him, and depositing the tickets onto the floor.

‘We went over a stone,’ Vittorio laughed, helping her up. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Sure, fine. It was just a bit unexpected. Vittorio?’

Suddenly she had lost his attention. He was staring over her shoulder, twisting his head further as the carriage moved on.

‘What’s the matter?’ she asked.

‘It’s him,’ he said. ‘It’s him!’

‘Who?’

‘Leo. My so-called friend who cheated me out of everything I had. I saw him…’

‘Are you sure? Where?’

‘There-no-in that street-driver, go that way, fast.’

The driver swore and began to back up.

‘Hurry!’ Vittorio shouted.

‘I have to turn the horse, signore,’ the driver shouted back indignantly.

Vittorio swore under his breath. ‘I can’t wait. He mustn’t get away from me.’ He flashed a glance at Angel. ‘Forgive me!’

Then he was gone, vaulting out of the carriage and tearing back down the road until he vanished down a side street.

‘Follow him,’ Angel called frantically to the driver. ‘Keep him in sight.’

At last the horse managed to turn, gather speed, and head for the street, arriving just in time for her to see Vittorio at the far end. In another moment he’d turned the corner and vanished.

‘Can’t you go any faster?’ she urged.

‘She is not a racehorse, signora.’

After what seemed like an age they reached the end of the street and found themselves facing the little harbour. There was no sign of Vittorio and nothing to show in which direction he’d gone.

‘Where now?’ the driver asked, drawing to a halt.

‘I don’t know. He’s vanished. I don’t know where he could be now.’

‘Some people will do anything to avoid paying,’ the man said cynically.

‘That’s not-’

‘I suppose he took your purse with him. It’s the oldest trick in the book.’

‘How dare you say that?’ she flashed, furious at his cynical judgement. ‘You know nothing about him.’

‘I know that he ran away without paying.’

‘Here’s your money.’

Angel pulled out some notes and pushed them into his hand before jumping out of the carriage. At the last moment she reached back for the lottery tickets which were still lying, unnoticed, on the floor.

But when she was alone there was a sense of anti-climax. What was she supposed to do now? Vittorio could have gone in either direction, and even if she turned the right way there were a hundred streets to choose from. She could be wandering for hours.

But at least walking would help calm her temper, which had risen to boiling point. The driver’s slander of Vittorio had caused an explosion inside her, astonishing in its force. What amazed her most was that she discovered how much of it was protectiveness.

He was the last man she would have thought of as needing protection: a hard man, unyielding, unforgiving, confident in his own knowledge and strength, his own power to dominate. That was Vittorio.

But then the need to stand between him and the world’s harsh judgement had come surging out of nowhere, shaking her, making her almost ready to kill to defend him. And suddenly she’d understood how vulnerable he was, more than he knew.

She had rejoiced in the passion that united them. Now she discovered that the longing to protect could be as powerful as desire, and far sweeter.

For the first time she dared to use the word love, and wonder at it. Her life had involved so much falseness, so many games of pretended love, that now she wondered if she could recognise the real thing. She only knew that she could not bear Vittorio to be hurt.

It was for that reason that she stayed there, going from street to street, while the daylight faded and the lamps came on, and all the while her heart was with him, wandering somewhere, tortured by a mixture of hope and despair.

At last she gave up and made her way back to the car. And there he was, sitting on a low wall, his hands clasped between his knees, his head sunk. Angel dropped beside him, slipping an arm around his shoulders.

‘You didn’t catch him?’

He shook his head. His body was trembling and she could feel his exhaustion.

‘Are you sure it was him?’ she asked gently.

Vittorio shook his head.

‘No, I can’t even be sure of that. I see him everywhere, but I never find him. It’s useless, hopeless.’

‘That’s not true. Nothing’s ever completely hopeless,’ she said, knowing how empty the words really were.

He took her hand.

‘I ran off and left you without warning, and you couldn’t even get into the car because I had the key. Why aren’t you angry with me?’

‘I guess I just can’t manage that. Besides, I could have called a taxi.’

‘You should have.’

‘No, I couldn’t go off and leave you alone while you were in trouble.’

He squeezed her hand. ‘You should have done,’ he said. ‘Let the madman wander on his own, until he wises up enough to know that he’s beyond help.’

‘Don’t talk like that.’

‘How else should I talk?’

‘You’re forgetting the lottery. You might win.’

He managed a faint grin. ‘Yes, I suppose I might win, but somehow I don’t think I’ll count on it.’ He gave her a weary smile that broke her heart. ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like to get angry at me?’

‘Not now. I haven’t the energy. Nor have you, from the look of you. When did you last eat?’

He shrugged.

‘There’s a little place over there. Come on.’

Vittorio was almost too tired to move, but Angel took charge, drawing him firmly to his feet and towards the little trattoria. They managed spaghetti, wine and coffee. They didn’t speak. She would gladly have talked but she could tell that he was silent not only because he was tired, but because he was exhausted to the point of emptiness. It was as if he had been hollowed out inside, leaving only a barely functioning shell. So she left him in peace.

‘I’ll drive you home,’ Vittorio said at last.

‘You’re not driving anywhere tonight,’ Angel said. ‘Tell me where you live. I’m going to take you there. You need to collapse, and the sooner the better.’

‘No,’ he said at once. ‘Not there.’

‘Then I’ll take you back to the estate.’

‘And sleep in your room? The padrona is too kind.’

‘Then you can have a room of your own. You should have one anyway, so that you don’t have to come all the way back here when you’ve been working late, which you often do, and…’

The words died at the look he gave her.

‘You are offering me a room in that house? A temporary room, of course, and only when the work justifies it.’

‘Don’t,’ she whispered. ‘Please don’t.’

His shoulders sagged. ‘I’m sorry. It’s unforgivable of me to take it out on you, especially when you’re being so kind. I know that, but I do it anyway, and I probably can’t stop. I warned you.’

‘Warning duly noted,’ she said tenderly. ‘Now, you’re tired, and I’m taking you home.’

He gave a faint, wry smile. ‘Which home is that?’

‘The one here in Amalfi, because it’s nearest and you need to get to bed. No more argument. It’s settled.’

‘Giving me orders?’

‘Yes.’

‘And if I refuse to give you the address?’

For an answer, Angel simply laid her hand over his, looking at him tenderly.

‘All right,’ he said.

There was no pleasure in her small victory. The cost to him was too high.

Following his directions, she found her way to a tiny, narrow street, and even in the semi-darkness she could see enough to dismay her. Berta had warned her of the worst, and the worst was true. Inside she found the meanest rooms in the meanest house in the meanest street.

Somehow the atmosphere was even more depressing with the light on. There was one main room, which doubled as bedroom and living room, with a tiny alcove that did duty as a kitchen, and a bathroom that looked like a converted cupboard.

The man who had once owned the Villa Tazzini now lived here. No wonder he’d been ashamed for her to see it. She wondered if he would have more bitter words, but he only looked at her without speaking.

‘You should go,’ he said. ‘I’ll call a taxi.’

She shook her head. ‘I’m not leaving you alone tonight.’

He managed a half-smile, full of wry defeat. ‘I’m good for nothing now.’

‘I didn’t mean that. I want us to talk.’ She took him by the shoulders. ‘We never have talked. We’ve fought and quarrelled and loved, but never simply talked as friends.’

‘Friends?’

‘We said once we were friends. We have to be that, too. Don’t you see?’

A gentle push made him sit down on the narrow bed. He didn’t speak at first, and she had to prompt him.

‘You told me about Leo, the friend who cheated you, but you didn’t say much about him. It doesn’t sound like you to be taken in, even by a friend.’

‘I trusted him totally. I’d known him all my life. Years ago we got into mischief together, courted the same girls and compared notes later.’

‘Shocking,’ Angel said fondly.

‘True. I was a rather disreputable character in those days.’

‘You and every young man who’s ever lived. I’d have liked to know you in your disreputable days.’

‘You wouldn’t. I was a rogue,’ he replied.

‘But I thought you devoted your whole life to running the estate. You made yourself sound like a positive puritan.’

‘If I did, I lied. I worked hard, but I had my fun. My father had to bail me out a few times.’

‘For what?’

‘The usual.’

‘Drunk and disorderly?’

‘Things like that, yes. Innocent fun. Leo was always there with me, and that’s when the firmest bonds were formed. With anyone else I’d have been on my guard, but when he guaranteed my safety I believed him. And when he turned out to be wrong, even then I’d have forgiven him if he hadn’t vanished and left me to face everything alone. I was easy prey for the creditors because I knew nothing. He’d taken the books with him. All that was left was a mess.’

Vittorio threw himself back on the bed, staring at the ceiling as though he could see his life being played out there, and Angel lay down beside him, with her head against his chest so that she could hear the deep, soft thunder of his heart. When he spoke it caused a soft vibration against her ear.

‘What happened today has happened before. I see him all the time, in crowds, at the end of streets, going into shops, only he’s never there when I follow him. Because he never is there, except in my mind. Sometimes I think I’ll spend the rest of my life chasing down endless roads that lead to nothing, or round and round in a maze that has no centre, and no exit.

‘But even if I did find him, what good would it do? The money’s gone. I’ll never get it back from him.’

‘You could hand him over to the police,’ she suggested.

‘For what? He didn’t commit a crime. He just arranged things so that the debts fell on me. It was legal. I’ve got no comeback.’

It was true. For the first time Angel understood the sheer blank nothingness that faced him.

She was all he had to defend himself from that nothingness. And suddenly she was afraid for him.