The Italian’s Cinderella Bride

CHAPTER EIGHT

RUTH waited, tense with hope to see if Pietro would move his hands over her, but he only held her without stirring until at last he disengaged himself. Now he would send her away, she thought, but he got to his feet, saying, ‘I need a walk before I can sleep. If we’re keeping an eye on each other, are you coming?’

‘Yes, of course.’

As they reached the door downstairs they heard a soft pattering of feet and Toni caught up with them.

‘I guess we’re all going,’ Ruth said.

‘He never did like being left behind.’

Pietro locked the door behind them, then crooked his arm for her to slip her hand through it, and they began to wander through the tiny streets, lit only by a faint silver glow from above. At first they did not speak, and for a while the only sound was their feet echoing on the paving stones, and the soft noise of Toni padding behind them.

‘I think this must be the quietest place on earth,’ Ruth mused. ‘Anywhere else you’d always be able to hear a car, even at night, but here there’s no noise at all.’

‘Oh, yes, there’s noise, if you know how to hear it,’ Pietro said. ‘Listen to the water.’

She listened, and understood what he meant. From every direction came the plash of water on stone, so soft that it was almost part of the silence, yet unmistakably there.

She was content, almost happy. The disturbing feeling towards Pietro that was growing inside her could be set aside for the moment, while she relished their camaraderie. Somehow she knew that her previous life had never been blessed with anything like this.

They strolled on peacefully, keeping to the narrowest backstreets. Outwardly Pietro was as calm as she, but inwardly he was troubled.

I should have told her by now, but how shall I say it?

‘Let’s go this way,’ she said, drawing him sideways.

‘Do you know what lies this way?’ he asked curiously.

‘A tiny canal, and a tiny bridge. I like them better than the big, glamorous places.’

‘So do I.’

There were a hundred tiny canals and tiny bridges, but he knew the one she meant, and after a while they came to it and went to stand on the bridge, looking down into the depths. Here and there a light was still on in one of the buildings, the reflection dancing in the ripples on the water.

From somewhere came the sound of a horn as a ship began its journey out of the lagoon, away to foreign parts, sending waves running back through the large canals, then the small ones, so that even here the water danced higher before settling back.

Another long, contented silence. Then came the sound that sent a pleasurable shiver down Ruth’s spine, a yodelling wail, coming out of the darkness, echoing from wall to wall before dying away into the distance. A pause, then it came again, finally shivering into silence.

‘Do you know what that is?’ Pietro asked.

‘Yes, it’s a gondolier, signalling that he’s coming around a blind corner,’ she said. ‘There he is.’

As they watched a long shape drifted into sight, turning towards them, the gondolier plying his oar at the rear, in front of him a young man and woman in each other’s arms.

I must tell her now, Pietro thought.

Down below the lovers looked up, then smiled and waved, as though wanting to share their happiness with the world, before vanishing under the bridge.

I will tell her, but how will she take it?

The email from Gino had said,

I know you think I should have returned before, but I’ve been doing so well in Poland, finding all sorts of new places that will interest you. I’d planned to go on to Russia next-after all, that was what you originally told me to do-but it will mean being away for a long time and I suppose I ought to clear this other thing up first, otherwise it’ll just drag on.

I’m coming by train from Milan, and I’ll be at the station the day after tomorrow, at about five-thirty in the afternoon. If it’s all right with you I’ll stay the night, and leave the next day. That’ll give me time to talk to Ruth and put her right about whatever’s worrying her.

Pietro had read this several times, trying vainly to detect any hint of concern for the girl Gino had once loved and planned to marry. But it was a fruitless task, and at last he had begun to outline a reply. As he had tapped out the letters his face had been concentrated into a scowl.

Whatever you’re planning to say I can’t imagine that it will do Ruth any good. She puts a brave face on it, but she’s having a hard time and I don’t want you to make it worse. It’s best if you don’t come at all. Ruth is no longer your problem. I’ll take care of her.

Then he sat glaring at the computer screen, struggling with the biggest temptation of his life. But at last he gave in with a bad grace, and hit the Delete button so savagely that the keyboard jumped.

He tried again.

Don’t come at all if that’s your attitude. She’s better off without you.

He deleted that one at once and scowled at the screen, trying to understand what was wrong with him. With all his heart he wanted to keep Gino away and save Ruth from pain and disillusion.

But he couldn’t save her. It was her decision. He could neither shield her, nor make it for her. That was the brute fact that he couldn’t get past.

As for why he should want to intervene, that was another fact, an alarming one, that he didn’t want to face.

He’d been living in a spell, telling himself that it could never be broken, that tomorrow wouldn’t come. Now it had come and he was left in confusion.

‘Did Gino take you in a gondola?’ he asked.

‘Several times. He actually proposed to me in a gondola.’

Suppressing the bitter comment, ‘He would!’, Pietro said noncommittally, ‘Tell me about it.’

He couldn’t make out her face very clearly, but well enough to discern the change of expression: a quick smile, followed at once by a reflective look, then another smile, different, softer, full of sweet recollection. It hurt him to see it.

‘I can’t,’ she said at last.

‘You don’t remember the details?’

‘No, I can remember them but I can’t-talk about them.’

He wanted to lash out. Clearly, to her, the events of that night were too sacred to be mentioned, but Gino had merely talked of clearing up ‘this other thing’.

This other thing. How could Ruth ever imagine that her lover would speak of her like that? And when she found out, how could he prevent it destroying her?

‘Do you think you could cope with seeing Gino again?’ he asked quietly.

‘That’s not likely to happen anytime soon.’

‘It might happen sooner than you think.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I’ve heard from him.’

She turned quickly. ‘What did he say?’

‘He’s coming home.’

He wished he could read her face. Were her eyes wide with shock or joyous disbelief?

‘Is that really true?’ she whispered. ‘He called you?’

‘He emailed me. His train from Milan will get into the station the day after tomorrow, at about five-thirty in the afternoon.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me before?’

‘I wasn’t sure how. Things are different now. You’ve moved on.’

‘Not-’ she started to say, then quickly checked herself.

What had she meant to say? he wondered. Not really? Not that much?

‘I don’t know,’ she finished at last. ‘I just don’t know.’

From a few feet away came a faint whine. Toni had left the bridge and gone to the entrance to a narrow calle, where he sat, impatient to go home.

‘All right,’ she laughed. ‘We’re coming.’

Pietro sighed at the way Toni had dispelled the mood. Another few minutes and he might have drawn Ruth out about her true feelings, but the dog’s interruption had given her the chance to think and settle her defences in place.

‘Next time I’ll leave you behind,’ he threatened his faithful hound.

‘Don’t be unkind to him,’ Ruth said firmly. ‘Come on, pet, I’ll give you your medicine as soon as we get indoors.’

The moment had gone.

As they wandered home Pietro said, ‘I wish you wouldn’t shut me out.’

‘I’m not,’ she insisted. ‘Not deliberately, anyway. In an odd way, I’m shut out too-shut out from myself. There’s somebody in there called “Me”, but she won’t open the door to-me. Does that make any sense?’

‘Oddly enough, it does. Go on.’

‘How am I going to react to seeing Gino? The point is, which one of me will do the reacting?’ She gave a little laugh. ‘Maybe it’ll be like one of those horror films when one person vanishes into another. One look at Gino and Ruth One will appear and take over.’

‘She’s the one who’s in love with him.’

‘Was in love with him. She’s gone, but-’

Pietro nodded. ‘But how far?’

‘Or maybe Ruth Three will stand there, resolute, and say “I’m in charge now,”’ she said, avoiding a direct answer. ‘And he’ll run for his life.’

He looked at her, walking beside him, poised, elegant and beautiful.

‘I don’t think he’ll run for his life,’ he said. ‘More likely he’ll try to win you back.’

‘That could be awkward, two of us operating in different time zones,’ she said lightly.

‘What about Ruth Two?’

‘Perish the thought. I don’t want to be her again. Now, I’m not going to think about it until I go to the station and meet the train.’

‘Until we go,’ Pietro said firmly.

‘I’ll be all right on my own.’

‘I’m going to be there. Don’t argue with me.’

‘All right. You said Gino emailed you. Can I see it?’

‘I’m afraid I deleted it by accident.’

Her smile had never been more brilliant. ‘I see. All right, Toni, I’m coming.’

She skipped ahead, leaving him to trail after her, dissatisfied.

Next day Franco came to the Palazzo Bagnelli, bringing his wife. Ruth found the Baronessa Serafina pure entertainment. Born Jessie Franks, she had changed her name to Sweetheart for a brief career as an adult movie star, and then again to Serafina in honour of her new, grand position in the world. But only Franco was permitted to call her this. To everyone else she was Baronessa, and woe betide anyone who forgot.

Her manner to Pietro combined awe and flirtatiousness, neither of which appealed to him, Ruth could see. She made it plain that she considered herself, her husband and Count Bagnelli to exist on a higher plane than mere mortals. Ruth was relegated to the position of servant, or would have been if Pietro hadn’t made a point of treating her with noticeable respect.

‘If I’d known she was going to be so rude to you I’d never have agreed,’ he said. ‘Shall I throw them out?’

‘Of course not. She doesn’t bother me. I think she’s hilarious, except when she insults the house.’

‘Quite!’ he seethed. ‘Did you hear her say it needed redecoration?’

‘It’s not enough like a Hollywood mansion for her taste.’

The list of things Serafina wanted altered was enormous, and only a flat refusal from Pietro silenced her. Attempting to smooth things over, Franco insisted on taking them all to dinner. Serafina’s eyebrows rose at the idea of including Ruth, but Ruth backed out thankfully, preferring an evening alone with Toni. Pietro wasn’t pleased.

‘How can you leave me undefended?’ he growled to Ruth.

‘Because I don’t fancy being treated as Cinderella, allowed to go to the ball. She’d expect me to vanish at midnight.’

‘Great. Then I could vanish with you.’

‘Sorry. She’s your problem.’

‘Thanks!’

It was a relief to have the building to herself, and to hear the blessed quiet after the disturbance of the day. For tomorrow an army would descend on them and there would be no moments of calm.

Soon she would see Gino again, and discover whether the man who lived in her head had any reality. If he did, then the thing she feared most might happen, and she would be transported back to a discarded personality, becoming again the woman who was in love with him.

But she longed not to be that woman. The thought that it might happen was like seeing a cage close around her.

And yet another part of her heart yearned to feel again the innocent love and delight she had known then, when the world was a happier, simpler place.

She fell asleep hoping that tonight her dreams would give her some guidance, but this time there was only darkness.

Franco and Serafina descended again next morning, complete with servants to make the Palazzo Bagnelli ‘suitable’, as they saw it. Pietro had taken the precaution of telephoning his country estate and summoning some of his own servants who had worked there before. They arrived like an opposing army, ready to take charge.

Arguments followed. Minna waded into battle, swearing vengeance on anyone who touched a vase or cleaned a tile without her express permission. Celia, armed and dangerous, stood at the door to the kitchen ready to repel invaders. But Franco’s cook had a tact and charm that won her over, and peace was soon established.

‘I left Celia showing the assistant cooks around the cupboards,’ Pietro said to Minna in a quiet moment late that afternoon. ‘Thank heavens that’s settled.’

‘But there’s a great deal that isn’t settled, signore,’ Minna informed him, a martial light in her eye. ‘Let me tell you-’

‘It’ll have to wait, I’m afraid. Time’s getting on and I have to go out. Do you know where Ruth is?’

‘She went out half an hour ago.’

‘Out? Did she say where?’

‘No, signore, but I saw her turn to cross the Rialto Bridge.’

Then she was heading for the railway station, Pietro realised. She’d said she would prefer to go alone, and she’d simply slipped away while he was occupied.

Franco appeared. ‘Pietro, my friend-’

‘Not now,’ Pietro said hurriedly and headed for the door.

‘But this is important.’

‘So is this.’

He made his escape before Franco could stop him, running out of the house, over the Rialto Bridge, then plunging into the rabbit warren of calles that would lead him to the railway station on the extreme edge of Venice.

As he ran he cursed her: stupid woman, obstinate woman, he’d told her it was better if he came too. Why couldn’t she see that?

But she’d never been sensible. After the first day when she’d been only half-alive, she’d done things her own way, no matter what he said, accepting as little of his protection as she could manage, and always ready to tease and infuriate him, to keep him at a careful distance.

And that was the clue to her state of mind. This meeting with Gino was more important than she let on, and when he thought of how many ways it could go wrong, his blood ran cold. He wished now that he’d warned her about Gino’s attitude.

Or perhaps it didn’t matter. Perhaps, with the first look, all trouble would be swept away. He’d find them locked in each other’s arms, and that would be the end of that. He would go his way, she would go hers, with Gino, and it would be as though she had never come into his life.

She’d once warned him that she would soon be gone, but she’d been talking about Toni, and he hadn’t understood the message.

Now the station was in sight. All he had to do was go in and search for her.

But something had happened to his limbs and he couldn’t move.

There wasn’t a train at exactly five-thirty but one was due ten minutes later, so Ruth settled herself to wait. It was vital to be sensible. Even if it went well, nothing was going to happen today. They probably wouldn’t even recognise each other.

Yet her heart still beat with anticipation. Whatever the present might be, she had loved Gino passionately, and he was about to come back into her life.

Outside the station the world was dark. Ruth stood at the end of the platform watching the lights stream out over the two-mile causeway to the mainland, cars on one side, trains on the other. For the moment the line was empty.

But then a light began to move along it, heading for Venice, growing larger. Ruth’s breath was coming so fast that she almost choked. She could see the train clearly now, details coming into view as it neared the station. She couldn’t move.

As it came to a halt, doors were already opening. She searched the faces, looking for Gino’s, but she couldn’t see him. Suddenly she was desperate. How could she have overlooked him when his features were imprinted on her mind? People were beginning to stream past her. She raced to the other end of the platform so that he would have to pass her to leave the station.

Then it was all over. Everyone was gone, and none of them was Gino.

She stood still, pulling herself together, until she could force herself to move to the side where there was a seat. A man in the uniform of a railway employee asked if she was all right.

‘That was the Milan train, wasn’t it?’ she asked.

‘Oh, no, signorina. The Milan train is late today. It should be here in another ten minutes, on the next platform.’

The haze cleared. She was alive again.

She moved to the adjoining platform and, to give herself something to think of, concentrated on a poster advertising the coming carnival, due to start soon. For eleven days the revellers would dance, sing, eat too much, drink too much and indulge in whatever took their fancy. The last day of Carnival was the day before Ash Wednesday, and the pleasure would explode in a riot of extravagant jollity. Then Lent would begin, six weeks of abstinence and self-discipline.

‘It’s not too bad at first,’ Gino had said. ‘You start off so bloated with the things you enjoyed in Carnival that you’re glad to have a rest from them. But then-’ He’d shivered in mock horror.

Last year she’d seen only two days of festivities before it had been time to go home. For those days they had sung and danced and loved. And now it was Carnival again.

But he would be here at any moment. Already she could see the train in the distance, slowly approaching across the causeway. She positioned herself where she couldn’t miss him and waited.

After a few moments the dread began to rise in her again. He wasn’t here. She searched every face but not one of them was his.

But that wasn’t possible. He had said he would be here. She began to run down the platform, desperately seeking the one man who could bring her nightmare to an end. Twice she reached out and stopped someone, but it wasn’t Gino. People turned to stare at her, but she couldn’t give up.

She had reached the end of the train. There was nothing to do but turn and go back, so she did, walking slowly as the full extent of the disaster dawned on her. Now she knew why Pietro had wanted to be with her. He’d known that something like this might happen, and he didn’t want her to face it alone.

She stopped, with no energy to go further. All the defiant courage she had thrown against her troubles had come to nothing. She was no further forward than she had ever been, and she wanted to bang her head against the wall.

But then something made her look up and see the man standing watching her from a distance. He moved towards her and at the same moment she began to run, full of joy and relief, faster and faster until she could see his face clearly and know that it was the one face of all others that she needed at this moment.

He hadn’t failed her. In her heart she had always known that he would be there. A cry broke from her as she ran into Pietro’s arms and felt them close powerfully about her.