Married Under the Italian Sun

CHAPTER SIX

IN THE morning Angel rose, telling herself that this would be over soon. Not long to go now, just a few more hours.

More pictures, outside, by the railings, looking down onto the long drop. She was co-operative, suggesting new poses, making the photo session last as long as possible. As she posed she glanced around for Vittorio, but there was no sign of him. He would be at the house, she told herself.

But, when they returned indoors, he wasn’t there.

The cameramen were packing up and there was no way of putting Mack off any longer.

‘Let’s talk about Gavin Alford.’

‘Gavin who?’

‘The lad who wrote that tell-all piece about you. Or perhaps you didn’t see it?’

‘Yes, I saw it, but I promise you there was very little “all” to tell. We were young, we dated, we broke up.’

‘Because of Joe’s money?’

Angel managed a tinkling laugh. ‘Good heavens, no. Gavin was history by then. Not that he was ever anything much. He meant well, but his conversation was rather limited.’

Remembering Gavin’s well-paid lies, she reckoned she could allow herself that little bit of revenge.

It was nearly over. Soon she would be free of them.

But Mack had one final shot.

‘Your baby-what sort of plans did you have? Had you chosen any names yet?’

Out of sight Angel clenched her hands, but there was no sign of strain in her voice as she spoke. ‘I didn’t know if it was a boy or a girl and it was too soon to think of names…’

That wasn’t true. She’d made lists of names, both male and female, but Joe hadn’t been interested. He’d simply refused to discuss their child, either when she had been carrying it or after she’d lost it.

But she wouldn’t say that. Instead, she talked around the subject for ten minutes, and Mack seemed satisfied.

At last it was over. They were making moves toward the front door.

But then someone said, ‘Hey, did you hear…?’ and they stopped again, prolonging the farewell by a few more excruciating minutes.

‘Yes,’ Angel heard herself saying. ‘Isn’t that fascinating? Yes-yes-’

If they didn’t go soon she thought she would start to scream.

Then she heard Vittorio’s voice, breaking into the inanities.

‘Let me help you with your bags, signore.’

She hadn’t known he was there. It was as though he’d materialised by a miracle. Before anyone could speak, he had picked up two heavy bags and strode out of the front door to place them beside the van. He came back, seized two more and strode out with them. The message was unmistakable: go!

Such was the intimidating power of his presence that everyone obeyed him, almost slinking out, as though awed by his authority. Angel followed them out to say more polite farewells, and felt Vittorio’s hand under her elbow.

As the door of the van slammed and the crew leaned out of windows, waving, calling, Vittorio murmured in her ear, ‘Don’t give in now. Just a few more moments, and they’ll be gone.’

So he understood. She’d thought he was enraged by their presence, to the point of throwing them out. But now she knew he’d done it for her. The hand under her elbow grew firmer, steadying her, offering strength.

The engine started, the van turned, and then it was moving away from them. It was mercifully over.

‘All right?’ Vittorio asked quietly.

‘I am now.’

He turned her gently and led her back into the house, his arm about her waist. He didn’t move it until she was sitting on the sofa, and then he took her hands in his.

‘Why do you do this to yourself?’ he demanded. ‘Why did you tell him all that?’

‘You heard?’

‘Yes, I was listening. Perhaps it was wrong of me, but now I understand many things about you, so I can’t be sorry I did it. But you didn’t have to tell him.’

‘I did,’ she said, turning her hands slightly so that she could clasp his in return. ‘You don’t know-you don’t know-’

‘No, I don’t know anything about you, do I? I keep thinking I do, but there’s always another mystery. Don’t keep things to yourself.’

She tried to pull herself together. ‘I’m all right-honestly, I’m all right.’

‘That is a lie,’ he said simply. ‘You’re breaking apart. You need to talk to a friend. If not me then-someone else.’

‘If not you then nobody,’ she said huskily. ‘Funny isn’t it-that you should be the best friend I have?’

‘Yes, it’s funny,’ Vittorio agreed gravely. ‘But I suppose it’s true.’ Suddenly he said, almost violently, ‘For pity’s sake, don’t suffer alone. If I’m your friend then let me be a friend. Let me help you. Tell me what to do.’

‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘It’s in my head-a kind of darkness. It isn’t here all the time-but sometimes-the doctor said it would go, and I keep thinking it has, but then…’

‘Is it because you lost your baby?’

‘Yes, that’s when it started. I fell down into a dark pit. Sometimes I think I see a way out, but it always comes back.’

Vittorio let out a long breath and silently called himself a fool. Then he did the only thing possible and put his arms around her, holding her tightly against him.

‘Go on,’ he said. ‘I want to hear the rest.’

‘The rest?’

‘The bits you didn’t tell Mack.’

‘Joe got fed up with me always being depressed,’ Angel said at last. ‘He said I was no fun any more.’ Vittorio swore with soft violence.

‘How much fun was a grieving woman supposed to be?’

‘He never thought of me as grieving. He hadn’t wanted a child and he couldn’t understand me being any different. Being fun was my job. He liked to see me teasing other men just enough to get them worked up, but always going home with him.’ She gave a self-mocking laugh. ‘I got quite good at that.’

‘Yes, I remember,’ Vittorio said wryly.

‘I’m sorry. You just made me mad, and I thought you were just one of them.’

He didn’t have to ask what ‘one of them’ meant.

‘In the end he got fed up with me being unhappy and started looking around. It was inevitable that he should find another woman. I didn’t care. I was glad to get out of that marriage, even if it meant accepting a mean settlement.’

‘Yes, you don’t have to tell me that he’s a cheapskate. What he did to me, he did to you.’

‘I got this place and a lump sum, which seemed plenty at the time, but I had no idea of the things I’d have to pay for. I had to make some money to carry us through until harvest, so I extorted a huge fee out of Mack. But in return-’

‘In return you had to bare your soul,’ he said softly. ‘And I judged you. Forgive me.’

‘It’s all right. I’ll be better now that this is over. In some ways I’m even glad. I’ve never talked about it before. There was nobody to tell.’

‘I wish you’d told me.’

‘What, the man who thought I was a wicked witch put on earth to torment him?’ Angel said with a jerky little laugh.

‘That seems a long time ago. I’m not sure it ever happened.’

‘Maybe it didn’t,’ she agreed.

A feeling of sweetness and contentment was stealing over her. It was something to do with the gentleness of his voice and his touch. At this moment she felt no desire, only a longing to stay here, resting against him, for ever.

As though he’d sensed her thoughts, Vittorio said, ‘Promise me something.’

‘What?’

‘That you won’t bear things alone any more. That you will come to me, as a friend, and tell me what you suffer.’

‘I promise,’ she said softly. ‘If I need help, I’ll come to you. I seem to have been taking your help ever since I came here. What would I have done if you hadn’t stayed?’

‘I would always have stayed. You tried to get rid of me, remember?’

‘Yes, I didn’t understand that you’re part of this place. It still belongs to you more than me…’

‘Don’t say that,’ he said harshly, getting to his feet.

‘Why not, if I’ve come to see that it’s true-?’

‘I said stop it!’ he shouted. ‘Are you really so stupid that-’

He checked himself with a sharp breath. Then he stalked out through the French windows into the garden, leaving Angel calling herself every name she could think of.

By now Angel was familiar with Vittorio’s way of retreating whenever they had a moment of closeness, as though scenting danger. So she reckoned she knew what to think when, next morning, Berta met her with the news that he’d called to say that he’d be away a few days, ‘exploring new markets for the estate produce’.

He might have spoken to her directly, but he’d sent the message through Berta. So he was avoiding her. And perhaps he was wise. The mood that was growing between them-a combination of emotion and half-admitted desire, spiced with a hostility that still sometimes flared up-left Angel not knowing what to think. It was sweet, intense and fast becoming the most thrilling experience of her life, but her heart was as wary as his.

For a woman of twenty-eight she knew strangely little of love. Once she’d thought herself in love with Gavin, but when she’d seen his true colours she’d dumped him without hesitation and shed few tears.

She’d been fond of Joe for a while, until his behaviour disgusted her. He’d been a selfish lover, demanding extravagant appreciation in return for the least possible effort. The result had been to send her heart and body to sleep. Angel couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt anything like desire, and had come to believe that it was something she would never know.

But Vittorio had startled her awake. She was alive again, both in her heart and body, alive in ways she had never known before. He was in her thoughts when he was present, and even more when he was not. If he was there, she loved to contemplate him, so much so that she had to check herself for fear he would suspect. Even so, her eyes and her thoughts would sneak back, uncontrollably, to the source of their delight.

But mingled with the pleasure was dismay.

It would have to be him, she told herself, exasperated. Of all the men that I wouldn’t choose-why him? He couldn’t be an elegant man of the world, ready to fall at my feet like the others, could he? Oh, no! I had to pick an awkward curmudgeon who’s fighting this as hard as I am.

When she found him gone that morning, her thoughts became positively grumpy.

‘How did I let this happen? Gee, if I have unluck! Not just bad luck, but unluck-like vampires are undead. Why him? That’s what I want to know. Why him?’

‘Padrona?’

She discovered that Berta was looking at her in alarm, and realised that she must have spoken aloud. Thank goodness Berta’s English was still basic.

The two of them used the next few days to put the downstairs bedrooms in order. Sam and his nurses would be here soon, and now Angel explained everything to Berta, who was sympathetic.

‘Poor old man,’ she said. ‘I cook a special meal for him.’

On the appointed day Angel prepared to drive herself to the airport.

But, when she tried to start up her car for the journey, it died a death.

Berta’s face showed what she thought of someone who seriously expected the battered object to complete a long journey, or even to start it. But the next moment she was smiling, pointing, and calling, ‘There!’

Looking around, Angel saw, with relief, that Vittorio’s car was heading for them.

‘Thank goodness,’ she gasped, running down the path and waving her arms.

He stopped so sharply that he swerved. Putting his head out, he yelled, ‘Have you gone crazy?’

‘Yes,’ she said, bounding into the seat beside him. ‘I need you to take me to the airport. My car’s given up and I have to meet Sam. Please hurry. I simply can’t be late for him.’

Leaning out of the window to give a thumbs-up to Berta, Angel missed Vittorio’s grimace as he swung the car around, and his muttered, ‘I see.’

‘They should land at eleven-thirty,’ she said. ‘And I thought I was all right, but I’ve wasted so much time trying to get that car to start-can’t you go any faster?’

‘Not on these roads,’ he said, jerking his head to indicate their route along the cliffs.

After a while he said, ‘How many are we collecting?’

‘Three.’

‘How are we going to get three people plus luggage into this little car?’

‘We won’t have to. I’ve arranged things the same way I did when Mack and the photographers came. A hire firm at the airport is providing a car big enough for them. But this time I want to be there.’

‘To meet Sam?’

‘That’s right.’

She answered casually, but in the silence that followed it dawned on her that Vittorio had spoken with an ironic edge to his voice.

Of course, she thought, he didn’t know who Sam was. Was it possible that he actually believed…?

Glancing sideways at his fiercely set face, Angel decided that it was possible. He thought Sam was her lover. And he minded. He might deny it until kingdom come, but she knew with ancient, instinctive wisdom that he was jealous.

Well, he would discover the truth in an hour or so. Until then, she thought cheerfully, let him suffer. Serves him right! She wasn’t sure exactly what Vittorio had done to deserve suffering, but she would think of something. For the moment she only knew that the sun shone more brightly and the air was singing.

‘I’m sorry if I urged you to go too fast,’ she said. ‘It’s just that I can’t wait to be with Sam again. It seems so long since I saw him. We talk every day, but it’s not the same.’

‘I’m sure.’

Apparently oblivious to the discouragement in his voice, Angel chattered on. ‘I’ve done all I can to make things perfect for him.’

‘I’m sure he’ll appreciate that.’

‘And it’ll be wonderful being able to be with him all the time. In the past-well, things have been difficult.’

‘I wonder how your husband felt about him,’ Vittorio said grimly.

‘Well, he wasn’t happy, but he knew that Sam couldn’t be dislodged from my life. Can we go a little faster?’

An hour later they were pulling in to Naples airport a few minutes after the plane was due to land. She went first to the car-hire firm to secure their vehicle, then hurried to the exit from the customs area, through which they must come.

‘Have we got time for a coffee first?’ Vittorio asked.

‘You go. I’m going to stand here to catch the first glimpse of him. I don’t want to miss one second.’

‘Fine, we’ll both stay.’

After that Angel seemed to glue herself into position, her eyes fixed eagerly on the people coming through the doors. Watching her, Vittorio realised that she had forgotten him. She had no attention for anyone but the man who was about to arrive and transform her world. The glow in her eyes, her air of vibrant happiness, told its own story.

For the hundredth time Vittorio asked himself why he allowed this woman to make a fool of him.

But this was it. This was the last time. He’d drive her and her paramour home, then he’d vanish from sight. He’d tend the estate and communicate with her at a distance.

‘There he is! There he is!’

He was roused from his thoughts by Angel’s delighted shriek. She was waving at someone who was emerging from Customs. Vittorio saw an extremely handsome young man wave back, smiling straight at her. He waited for Angel to run and throw herself into his arms.

Then Vittorio saw that the young man was not alone. He was accompanied by another man, elderly and frail, who gazed around him as if puzzled.

‘It looks like he’s brought his grandfather,’ Vittorio observed.

‘That’s not his grandfather,’ she breathed. ‘It’s mine. Sam!’

Before his astonished eyes, she darted forward and threw her arms around the old man, while her glad cry of, ‘Sam, oh, Sam!’ floated back.

Vittorio watched them, feeling the world right itself again, the sun come out and the birds start to sing right there in the airport.

The young man had been joined by another, and the two of them were taking care of a lot of luggage, which seemed to include a wheelchair.

Sam appeared confused, merely patting Angel vaguely and barely returning her greeting. But she seemed oblivious, her delight at seeing him so overwhelming that it blotted out all else. She began to lead him forward, but he looked around for the young men, whose presence evidently reassured him.

‘Vittorio,’ Angel said, approaching him, ‘this is my grandfather. This is Sam.’

Vittorio extended his hand, which the old man took, but vaguely.

‘And these are Roy and Frank, his friends.’

She said the last two words carefully, and he understood that these were carers.

Walking slowly, they guided Sam out to the cars.

‘I’ll take Sam with me,’ Angel said.

‘It might be better if you don’t,’ Roy said quickly. ‘The journey’s left him a bit disorientated.’

‘But he’s got me now,’ she said happily. ‘It’ll be all right.’

Hugging Sam’s arm, she began to draw him to the car, but he looked nervous.

‘Who are you?’ he asked in a trembling voice. ‘Where are you taking me?’

‘Home, darling.’

‘But I don’t know this place.’

‘Don’t worry,’ she said, looking at him fondly. ‘I’m here. You’ll be all right.’

He stared at her. ‘Who are you?’

‘I’m Angela, your granddaughter. And I’m taking you home.’

Sam cast a worried look at Frank and Roy, but he didn’t argue further, and allowed himself to be led away.

‘Tell your driver to follow me,’ Vittorio said, and joined them in the car.

Angel got into the back with Sam. She was still happy, but the first edge of her joy had gone. If only he had recognised her, just this one time. But he just needed a little time, she assured herself. She talked brightly, holding his hands between hers, telling him about their new home, asking him questions about how he’d been without her.

Vittorio, listening, was torn with pity for her. He couldn’t see her face but he knew from her voice how determinedly she was refusing to recognise the blank nothingness that was coming from the old man.

‘I’ve missed you so much, Sam. It was lovely when you called me the other night.’

‘What are you talking about? I never called you.’

‘Yes, you did, and we talked about how it would be when you arrived. You’re going to love your new home.’

‘Where are we?’

‘This is Italy, and we’re going to a lovely house, and-’

‘I want to go home. Who are you? Why are you making me go with you?’ His voice rose higher. ‘Let me go.’

He began to struggle with the car door, growing more upset by the moment.

‘Sam, please-’

‘This is dangerous, we’ve got to stop,’ Vittorio said, pulling over onto the hard shoulder, and watching his mirror to see that the other car had stopped behind them. ‘Get one of those lads, quick.’

Roy was already running towards them, pulling open Sam’s door, taking the old man into his arms.

‘Help me,’ Sam wept.

‘Let me take him with us,’ Roy said to Angel. ‘He’ll calm down.’

‘Yes, do what he wants,’ she said raggedly.

‘Come and sit beside me,’ Vittorio urged her, patting the front passenger seat.

‘No, thanks, I’ll stay back here,’ she said bleakly. ‘It’s not far.’

She wouldn’t budge on this, and he was forced to drive the rest of the way trying to imagine what was happening in the back seat. Was she all right? Was she badly upset? He strained his ears but he could hear nothing.

After a while she said in a normal voice, ‘I should have known better than to separate him from the lads. Of course he’s confused, after not seeing me for a while, and then the journey-I expected too much. That’s all it is. Everything’s going to be fine.’

Her determined cheerfulness was more painful to him than tears would have been, but there was no comfort he could offer, and he could only say, ‘Of course it is.’

After that she didn’t speak again for the rest of the journey.