Married Under the Italian Sun

CHAPTER TEN

IN THE morning Angel made Vittorio breakfast in his minute kitchen, and they sat drinking coffee like an old married couple. They had passed the night in each other’s arms, not making love, but being comfortable.

‘Oh, by the way, we forgot these,’ she said, rummaging in her purse and producing the lottery tickets. ‘I’m not sure which one is yours any more.’

‘It doesn’t matter.’ He took one without looking. ‘When will we know if we’re millionaires?’

‘Tonight, I think.’

‘What do you want to do today?’

‘I don’t mind, as long as it isn’t energetic,’ she said, smiling. ‘And you’re there.’

They spent the morning on the beach, doing nothing much except being sleepy and content. In the afternoon they bought rolls and wine and took them back to his shabby home, where they spent the afternoon in sleepy contentment.

‘I could stay here for ever,’ she murmured.

‘So could I. But I suppose we have to go.’

‘Back to the world,’ she sighed. ‘I hate the world.’

He kissed her forehead. ‘Come on, let’s go.’

They arrived at the villa to find Sam in good spirits and Berta about to serve the evening meal. Watching Vittorio across the table, Angel was happy to see that he seemed relaxed, as though their peaceful time together had wiped out the despair of the day before.

‘Sam seems to have enjoyed his weekend,’ she observed quietly to Roy. ‘You were right about him needing his television.’

‘He’s got all tonight’s programmes marked out.’

‘Well, I want to watch the lottery programme.’

‘Have you had a flutter?’

‘You bet. I’m probably a millionaire by now.’

‘Let me get you another coffee,’ Roy said with comic deference.

‘Maybe a multi-millionaire,’ she teased.

‘In that case, two coffees and some cake.’

‘Vittorio’s got a ticket too,’ she said, laughing. ‘It would be a shame for you to waste your energies buttering me up if he’s going to be the millionaire.’

Frank’s eyes gleamed. ‘Vittorio, old friend,’ he declared, ‘why have I been neglecting you?’

Vittorio grinned, enjoying the joke, and everyone laughed. Sam declared that they would all watch the programme together, and at nine o’clock they gathered in front of the television. Even Berta and the maids crept in, refusing to miss the excitement.

‘What numbers are we looking for?’ Sam demanded.

They obediently read out from their tickets, and the opening credits of the show came up.

‘Quiet everyone!’ Sam insisted.

Almost at once it was clear that Vittorio had no hope, but Angel grew tense. The first number was hers, then the second, and the third, the fourth…

‘What do you need?’ Sam demanded in a stage whisper.

‘Fifty-four and eighty-seven,’ she said, hardly able to speak.

‘Fifty-four!’ came booming from the set, and everyone held their breath.

And the last one…

‘And finally, the number you’ve all been waiting for…’

‘Get on with it,’ Sam begged in agony.

‘Eighty-’ There was a collective intake of breath from everyone in the room.

‘Eighty-nine!’

The intake turned into a groan of disappointment.

‘So near and yet so far,’ Frank mourned.

Berta was the first to recover. ‘But signora, you will still be a winner-not millions, but you have five numbers. The last man who had five received twenty-thousand euros.’

‘In that case,’ Sam yelled, ‘let’s have some champagne.’

‘Twenty thousand,’ Angel murmured.

The next moment she grabbed Vittorio’s hand and dragged him out into the garden.

‘Twenty thousand,’ she said ecstatically. ‘You can get out of that dump where you live.’

‘But this money is yours.’

‘No, it’s ours. We bought the tickets together.’

‘You bought them.’

‘But you paid for your ticket,’ she argued.

‘It was your ticket that won.’

‘Who’s to say? I don’t even remember which numbers I picked for yours or mine, and then the tickets got dropped in the carriage, and there’s no way of knowing which one belongs to who. You’re probably the real winner.’

The look he gave her was as gentle as it was implacable, and she knew that she’d done this all wrong.

‘We divided the tickets and the winning numbers are yours,’ he said quietly.

‘But I want you to have this money. You need it.’

His voice was suddenly iron-hard. ‘Understand me once and for all, I will not take your charity.’

‘It isn’t charity. I told you.’

‘Yes, you were very clever in finding excuses to make me a gift of money, and if I had no pride I would let you.’

‘Look,’ Angel said, beginning to be desperate, for she could see she was against a brick wall. ‘I do understand about your pride-’

‘No, my dearest, you don’t understand at all. You think you do, but there’s no way you can even begin to understand.’

‘But this is me,’ she pleaded.

‘And you think I have no pride with you? You think I’d find it easier to take money from you than from anyone else?’

‘No, I suppose you’d find it harder,’ she said wretchedly.

‘Thank God you at least understand something. My pride seems a contemptible little thing to you, but it’s all I have. Let me at least keep that.’

‘After I took everything else from you. That’s what you mean, isn’t it?’

‘It wasn’t you who robbed me, I know. But now my pride is in your safekeeping and you must protect it for me. Only you can do so, and, if you don’t, then you will truly have destroyed me.’

She made a last effort.

‘All right. Half each. That’s fair.’

For a moment she thought she’d persuaded him, but then an iron curtain seemed to come down over his face and she knew how far apart they really were.

‘Please, Vittorio…’

He shook his head, gentle but unyielding.

‘Oh, damn you!’ she said, in tears.

He managed a smile then.

‘Yes, damn me,’ he said, touching her face. ‘I can’t say or do any of the things you want. I’m like a man with a leg missing. You’d gladly offer me a crutch but I can’t learn how to use it. You should forget me and find a nice, sweet-tempered man who can say everything you want to hear.’

‘I don’t want a nice, sweet-tempered man,’ she said, exasperated. ‘I want you.’

Vittorio even managed to laugh at that, but he was very pale, as though something was gnawing at him painfully inside.

‘You’d better get back,’ he said. ‘You can’t miss the celebrations.’

‘Come with me.’

‘No, I’d rather go home.’ He touched her face. ‘I’m sorry. I can only be the way I am.’

If he had shouted and cursed, Angel could have born it better than this sad resignation. It showed her something she had tried not to see. He had nothing, and she had everything that should be his, and perhaps the greatest love in the world would be too little to survive that.

He walked away around the curve of the house, without looking back. A moment later she heard his car starting up, then fading into the distance.

The next time she saw Vittorio he smiled and spoke to her pleasantly, but he wouldn’t let her refer to the subject again. When she tried he remembered something he had to do and vanished to a far point of the estate. To the casual eye all was well between them, but she knew that an abyss had opened up. Or perhaps it had always been there, and she had refused to see it.

He still came to the house to play chess with Sam, but she felt that he avoided being alone with her.

One evening, as they were just getting ready for supper and laughing over one of Sam’s more outrageous stories, Berta came into the room, looking concerned.

‘Signora, there is a man to see you. I asked his name, but he just says he knows you will be glad to see him.’

‘And that’s right, isn’t it, doll?’ said a voice from the doorway. ‘I haven’t forgotten you, and I just know you haven’t forgotten me.’

Everyone turned to see the swaggering creature standing there as though he owned the world, but only Vittorio spoke.

‘Mio Dio!’ he said. ‘“Ghastly Gavin.”’

A loud snort of laughter from Sam greeted this, while Roy and Frank smothered grins. Gavin wisely pretended not to notice. It gave Angel a moment to get over her first surprise and study him.

She’d thought she knew how he looked, but the magazine pictures had only partly prepared her. He was heavier, flabbier, with an unhealthy, pasty face that spoke of self-indulgence. At nineteen she had thought him fantastically gorgeous. Now there was just enough of that Adonis left amid the ruin to make her sad.

‘Hello Gavin,’ she said.

‘Angel!’ He approached her with his arms outstretched, voice throaty with emotion. ‘It’s been so long.’

‘Yes, hasn’t it?’ she said with faint amusement, before being swallowed up in an embrace that was so heavy with the cheapest brand of male cologne, nearly making her choke.

‘Sam!’ Gavin turned on him with even more fulsomeness, ready to embrace him too, but Sam was ready for him.

‘Get off!’ he spluttered. ‘Who are you? I don’t know you.’

‘Of course you know me. We used to be the best of friends.’

‘No, we didn’t. I don’t know you. And I don’t like you.’

‘Sure you do.’

‘Don’t you tell me what I like, young man. Keep away from me. You smell like a brothel.’

Gavin’s smile became a little frayed and Angel, deciding it was time she remembered her duty as hostess, hastily introduced Roy, Frank and Vittorio as ‘family friends’.

‘It’s lovely to see you again, Gavin,’ she lied. ‘But how do you come to be here?’

‘I was just passing and I knew my old friend Angel lived nearby, so I thought I’d drop in.’

It was so absurd that Angel almost laughed out loud, but instead contented herself with saying, ‘When you knew me I was Angela. I was never Angel to you.’

‘But I always thought you were an angel,’ he riposted quickly. ‘Do you think you and I could talk-privately?’

He invested the last word with a throaty emotion that was almost too much for her self-control.

‘I’m afraid not,’ she said firmly. ‘We’re about to have something to eat, but you’re welcome to join us.’

‘He damned well isn’t,’ Sam growled.

‘Come on, Sam,’ she coaxed. ‘He’s our guest.’

‘He’s no guest of mine. I don’t want him in the house.’

‘But it’s Angel’s house,’ Gavin said, smiling ferociously.

‘I wonder how you knew that,’ Vittorio mused aloud to no one in particular. ‘You must have been reading glossy magazines.’

‘Throw him out,’ Sam yelled.

‘I can’t send a guest on his way without something to eat,’ Angel protested.

‘All right, give him something to eat. Then throw him out.’

From the hall there came a cry and the sound of crockery hitting the floor. Angel turned to leave the room, but she was met at the door by Berta, who was flustered and annoyed.

‘Scusi, signora. Ella has had an accident in the hall and broken some plates, but it was not her fault as she fell over two suitcases that she didn’t know were there.’

‘No, of course it wasn’t her fault. Give Ella a glass of wine and tell her to sit down for a while.’

They had spoken Italian but when Angel turned back to face Gavin it was clear that he’d understood the gist.

‘I brought a few things with me,’ he said with a placating air. ‘I thought you might ask me to stay.’

‘Two suitcases?’ she enquired sweetly.

‘I’m a snappy dresser.’

‘Throw him out,’ Sam protested.

‘Gavin, I’m sorry I can’t invite you for a long visit, but you can stay tonight.’

‘No, he can’t.’ Sam sulked.

‘One night will be just fine,’ Gavin said. ‘It’s enough for me just to see you again.’

‘I’m going to be sick,’ Sam announced loudly.

Vittorio met his eye and winked.

Dinner was a fraught business. Angel’s attempts to persuade Sam that he would rather eat in his room had met with a blank refusal.

‘Well, don’t sit there being rude to him all evening,’ she begged.

‘Why not? I never liked him.’

‘You said you didn’t remember meeting him before.’

‘I don’t. Aha! But you say I did,’ Sam replied.

‘Oh, you’re so sharp! Yes, you did. I was dating him before I met Joe.’

‘Well, there you are, then. I told you I never liked him.’

She waylaid Vittorio to say, ‘I hope you’re planning to stay.’

‘Are you joking? I wouldn’t miss this for anything.’

‘You realise you started the problem with that “Ghastly Gavin” crack.’

‘It’s no crime to tell the truth. And I’m fascinated to discover what your taste used to be.’

‘I was very young then,’ Angel said defensively. ‘And he was a lot slimmer.’

Vittorio grinned.

‘Just help keep Sam in order, please. There’s no knowing what he’ll say tonight.’

‘Really? I’d have thought we could guess exactly what he’ll say. And no power on earth will stop him.’

In the event the evening was so dire as to be almost entertaining. Sam expressed himself loudly and often, ignoring all attempts to shush him. Vittorio, Angel noted with exasperation, was actually encouraging him.

Only Gavin seemed oblivious to the darts headed his way. He had set himself to play the part of a much-loved old friend whose visit was a matter for rejoicing, and nothing was going to divert him. It didn’t matter that the audience was unresponsive and the performance fell flat. It was the role he’d prepared, and he stuck with it.

But he wasn’t the only one playing a part. As the meal ended Sam grinned at Vittorio and said knowingly, ‘You’re drinking well tonight, my boy. I’ve never seen you putting it away like that.’

Since Vittorio had been notably abstemious that evening, everyone stared at this, except Vittorio himself, who said, ‘Sorry, Sam. Do you think I’ve had too much?’

‘Too much to be driving home along a cliff road. You’d better stay here tonight. No problem about that, is there?’ This was to Angel.

‘No problem at all,’ she said, appreciating these tactics, and thinking that Sam could sometimes be more shrewd than anyone guessed.

All Gavin’s cleverness wasn’t enough to have Angel to himself. After supper Vittorio pinned him down to talk about motor cars, which Angel interrupted just long enough to say goodnight, before vanishing.

Then Roy and Frank emerged from putting Sam to bed, and suggested a nightcap. One brandy became three, then four. Gavin was finally assisted to his room by Vittorio, who dumped him on the bed before retiring to spend the rest of the night on a window seat from which he could see Gavin’s door.

Gavin finally secured a private moment with Angel after breakfast the next morning, but this was less because of his own efforts than because Angel, exasperated, had decided to get it over with so that she could be rid of him. So she led him out onto the terrace.

‘I thought we’d never be alone,’ he said, in what he fondly hoped was a winning voice.

‘Well, we’re all rather busy.’

‘I can see that, but I don’t have to go immediately. If we could only spend a few days getting to know each other again…’

‘Sam would never agree to that.’

‘Sam’s very protective of you, and I don’t blame him.’

‘That’s good of you,’ Angel replied, suppressing a desire to laugh.

‘He remembers how close we once were.’

She was about to remind him that Sam didn’t remember him at all, but decided not to bother. There was no diverting him from his self-deception, and the sooner he got to the end of his prepared script the better.

‘You know, Angel, you really hurt me with those things you said in the magazine.’

‘I hurt you? What about all that stuff you spouted about me dumping you for Joe? You know we’d finished before then.’

‘Had we? That’s not how I remember it. We were in love.’

‘I thought we were. Then you wanted me to abandon Sam in a home, and that was that. I dumped you instead.’

‘Scusi, signora. I have come for the coffee cups.’

With an oath, Gavin turned to see Vittorio standing just behind them.

‘There are no coffee cups,’ Angel said.

‘Are you sure? Berta said-’

‘There are no coffee cups!’ Gavin bawled. ‘Clear off.’

‘Scusi, scusi.’ Vittorio withdrew, apparently despondent.

Gavin took a deep breath and did his best to get back on track.

‘I think you do me an injustice,’ he said.

‘Well, you got your revenge in that “heartbroken Gavin” piece. I hope they paid you well for it.’

‘Probably less than they paid you to disparage me in GlamChick.’

‘I didn’t exactly disparage you. I just said your conversation was limited.’

‘That’s not all you said was limited,’ he said, aggrieved.

‘They made most of it up. Look, Gavin, the past is the past.’

‘Sure it is. What matters is the future. When I saw those pics of you, looking so beautiful, I realised that I’d never stopped caring about you. You and I were good together-’

‘And this is a lovely house.’

‘What?’

‘You saw the pictures of this house and thought you’d move in on me.’

‘You do me an injustice.’

‘You said that before. Well, I did say your conversation was limited.’

‘Look, I understand you’re playing hard to get. We’ve been a long time apart, but now we’ve found each other again-’

‘Gavin, listen, we haven’t found each other. It was over long ago, and it’s still over-’

‘You don’t mean that-’

‘Scusi, signora-Berta says-’

‘Will you get out of here?’ Gavin roared, confronting Vittorio, who had appeared like a genie from a trapdoor. ‘Clear off! Do you hear me? Clear off, clear off.’

‘Scusi? Me no spikka da English.’

Angel hastily placed a hand over her quivering mouth.

‘What are you talking about?’ Gavin raged. ‘Last night you-why am I arguing with you? Buzz off!’

‘Scusi? Buzz…?’

‘Clear out! Buzz off! Get lost!’

‘Happy to,’ Vittorio said affably. ‘But you’re coming with me.’

Before Gavin could retreat, Vittorio reached up and took his ear between finger and thumb.

‘Leggo of me! Whaddaya think you’re doing?’

‘Helping you on your way,’ Vittorio said with deadly affability as he moved to the door, forcing the wriggling Gavin to follow.

‘Get off me!’

‘Our friend has decided to leave us,’ Vittorio said, as if he hadn’t spoken. ‘Could somebody bring his luggage down?’

It was only then that Angel realised there was an interested audience that consisted of just about everyone in the household, led by Sam, who was acting as though Christmas had come. His eyes were bright with pleasure, and as he followed Vittorio and his squirming captive outside he was actually applauding.

‘Vittorio, what are you going to do?’ Angel said, half laughing, half anxious.

‘Nothing sinister. Like a good taxi driver I’ll take him into town and drop him at the bus station.’

Gavin opened his mouth to protest but a look from his captor silenced him. Vittorio’s mouth might be smiling but his eyes were not.

‘You can drop him at the station but you can’t make him get on a bus,’ she pointed out.

‘Don’t worry about him coming back. Along the way I’m going to explain to him how unwise that would be.’

‘Then take someone else in case he puts up a fight.’

‘Please, signora, do you really think I need help against this creature? Don’t insult me.’

‘That’s right, don’t insult him,’ Sam echoed.

Having reached the car, Vittorio opened the back door, propelled Gavin inside and locked him in. Angel watched, appalled and fascinated, as Gavin hammered fruitlessly on the windows and shouted abuse that nobody could hear.

‘Like a spider trapped in a bottle,’ Vittorio observed dispassionately. ‘And he isn’t unlike a fat, bloated spider.’

Frank and Roy had hastened upstairs to Gavin’s room and now emerged with his luggage, which they put in the trunk. As the car vanished they all waved at Gavin staring out of the rear window, still evidently wondering what was happening to him.

‘What did he think he was doing?’ Roy demanded.

‘He thought it would be nice to come here and take over,’ Angel said. ‘And he thought I’d be stupid enough to fall for his line. That’s the bit I can’t forgive.’

‘Well, Vittorio took care of him,’ Sam rejoiced. ‘I knew we could rely on him.’ He was almost dancing with joy.

When Vittorio returned several hours later, Sam was the first to greet him.

‘He won’t come back, will he?’ he asked anxiously.

Grinning, Vittorio tapped the side of his nose, but did not speak.

‘That’s right,’ Sam agreed, nodding wisely. ‘Don’t tell us where you buried him.’

‘Actually I just put him on a bus to Naples,’ Vittorio said. ‘Sorry to disappoint you.’

‘I suppose it’ll do for now.’

‘Will you two listen to yourselves?’ Angel demanded. ‘Actually, I could have coped with him.’

Vittorio and Sam looked at her, then at each other. They shook their heads.

After that Sam was quiet for a few days. Sometimes he seemed to be sunk so deep in thought that Angel had to speak to him several times before he knew she was there, but this was different from his usual vagueness. Now she had a feeling that there was a purpose to his reveries, but when she tried to get him to open up he smiled brightly and told her not to worry her head about a thing, just as though she was a child again.

One morning he gave everyone the slip and went for a solitary walk in the garden. For a while he strolled apparently aimlessly, but when he saw Vittorio hard at work, pruning an apple tree, a sense of purpose seemed to envelope him, and he stepped out smartly, waving his stick and calling out.

Vittorio greeted him with a cheerful grin. ‘You managed to escape, then?’

‘Of course I did. That granddaughter of mine is a wonderful girl, but she does fuss so.’

‘That’s women for you,’ Vittorio agreed wisely.

‘The thing is that you have to let them think they’re running the show,’ Sam confided. ‘Never let them suspect that you’re really pulling the strings.’

‘What strings have you been pulling now?’

‘I’ve been thinking about that Gavin creature.’

‘A nasty, slimy piece of work,’ Vittorio agreed.

‘But you knew how to deal with him. You’re a man who can be relied on, and I’ve been thinking…’ His voice trailed off and his eyes suddenly became unfocussed.

‘Sam!’ Vittorio said urgently.

‘Ah, yes, where was I?’

‘Thinking.’

‘Ah, yes. I do a lot of that. People think I can’t think, but I can. I’ve been writing my will. It’s quite a document.’

‘I’ll bet it is.’

Sam fumbled in his pocket and brought out a sealed envelope, which he held out.

‘Is this it?’ Vittorio asked, taking the envelope. ‘You want me to look after it for you?’

‘That’s right. Because you’re my heir.’

‘Oh, no-’ Vittorio tried to hand it back but Sam became agitated.

‘You must keep it because-because I’ve left you my most precious possession.’

‘But surely that should go to Angel? She’s the person you love.’

‘You don’t understand-my most precious possession-you must-’ Sam sat down suddenly, gasping.

‘Don’t get yourself upset,’ Vittorio said worriedly.

‘You must take it-otherwise I can’t feel safe-’

‘All right.’ He shoved the letter into his back pocket and looked anxiously into the old man’s face. ‘Are you feeling bad?’

‘Just a bit-short of breath,’ Sam gasped. ‘I’ll be all right in a minute.’

‘I don’t think so,’ Vittorio said anxiously. ‘Let’s get home quickly.’

He pulled Sam’s arm about his neck and raised him off the ground as easily as though he weighed nothing. Carrying him thus, he hurried to the house, calling Angel’s name.