by Jessica Ayre
They stepped down into a cypress-lined piazza and he took her arm to lead her down a narrow but brightly-lit street. Pausing before a restaurant door, he bowed deeply, 'After you, mia donna.'
Jennie smiled and preceded him into the softly-lit restaurant. After Derek had exchanged a few words with the maitre d'hotel, they were guided through tall glass doors into a little garden fragrant with magnolia. Bright purple blooms clothed whitewashed walls.
'It's charming,' Jennie breathed, sitting down happily into an ornate cane chair.
'Not half so charming as you… when you're pretending,' Derek gave her a mocking glance.
'Flattery will get you just about anywhere at the moment,' she bantered back.
'I'll remember that,' he smiled at her obvious good humour, and passed her a menu.
They ate—lightly scented bouillabaisse, a fish Jennie didn't recognise, poached in wine and herbs, a rich creamy zabaglione. Perhaps it was the wine, but she suddenly found herself talking about her childhood in response to Derek's questions. His curiosity about her seemed endless. She told him the little she remembered about her real father, an engineering draughtsman.
'So that's where you get your graphic eye from,' he intervened.
'Don't know. Perhaps.' Jennie smiled and suddenly remembered how as a young child she had treasured the delicate drawings of flowers her father had done for her. They had vanished when she was moved to her aunt's.
'It must have been difficult being thrust into your aunt and uncle's child-filled household, after being your mum's only daughter,' Derek looked at her affectionately. 'Why don't you just come right out and admit you hated it, instead of insisting how kind everyone was to you?'
'They were kind,' Jennie stressed and then grimaced, 'But you're right, I hated it. I felt like a total misfit.'
'And that's why you insist on being such a solitary now,' he reached for her hand and held it gently, 'in case anyone who gets to know you as you are makes you feel like a misfit again. All that don't-touch-me armour. It's not unbecoming,' he looked at her reflectively, 'but it can't make you very happy.'
Jennie felt tears stinging her eyes and fought them back. Derek sounded as if he genuinely cared.
'I imagine that Max fellow has contributed to all that as well, hasn't he?'
Jennie drew her hand away. 'I guess he has—' her voice trailed off and she shied away from Derek's pressing glance. 'But that's quite enough about me, Mr Writer-Detective.' She forced her voice to be casual, rose and excused herself from the table.
Derek's eyes searched her face. 'We really aren't all the same, you know,' he said quietly as she moved away.
Jennie couldn't quite face a conversation about Max now. That she knew. Her nerves were too exposed. And it would be too shaming, would leave her too vulnerable. Derek, she realised, was moving dangerously close.
He seems to see right through me at times, she told her image framed in the powder room mirror. More clearly than I see myself.
And what if he came even closer and she found herself suffering from the same revulsion Max had engendered in her? No, she told her image decidedly. No, Max's kisses had never been like that. Either that, or the Sicilian sun, with considerable help from Derek, had changed her beyond recognition. She trembled as she thought of the sensations Derek's touch evoked in her, the feelings he stirred in her.
No, it was far more likely that Derek, having satisfied his curiosity about her, would simply grow bored, uninterested. She might be in love with him—her image gasped as she acknowledged it so directly—but why should he return that love? And on top of it all, there was the whole matter of Daniela: beautiful, clever Daniela.
Jennie shuddered. She would have to be on her guard, if she wanted to avoid the pain of ultimate rejection. She couldn't live through all that again. Forcing herself to stand tall, she steeled herself against Derek's charms and walked back towards the garden table.
It was almost as if her thoughts had dictated what was to come. Two figures stood by Derek's side. Jennie paused, her heart sinking. There was Daniela, dazzling in a fuchsia sheath, her arm on Derek's shoulder. Next to her, a plump white-suited man Jennie didn't recognise. Jennie walked slowly towards them and as Daniela saw her, the actress's eyes gleamed anger. Jennie could see her face shaping itself into a wide artificial smile.
'So that's who you've run off with,' she shook her head as if in disbelief. 'Oh, these men! And here I told Enrico that you had important business in Palermo, and possibly, just possibly, if you finished early, we might find you in this restaurant.'
Derek's eyes grew black with controlled anger, but his voice remained calm. 'Jennie, this is Enrico Palandri, one of the producers of our film. I've asked Daniela and him to join us, but I'm afraid he doesn't speak much English.'
'Oh, Jennie's Italian must be excellent by now. She learns so quickly.' Daniela's voice was tart, full of implied meaning as she looked Jennie up and down. 'The outfit I chose for you looks wonderfully well, e vero, Derek?'
Jennie shook the plump man's hand and sat quietly in her corner. The conversation proceeded in Italian and after a few minutes she gave up trying to follow the rapid exchange.
She drank her coffee, aware that Derek seemed to have altogether forgotten her presence; aware too of Daniela's hand placed comfortably on his cream-suited arm, her fingers playing carelessly with the fabric. Only once did the actress look directly at Jennie and then her eyes seemed to flash a clear 'hands off signal. Gone was any of the warmth she had previously scattered in Jennie's direction.
Derek seemed immune to the silent war between the two women, and by the time Jennie had finished her coffee, her mind was made up. She would leave them, she obviously had no place here. She rose and with terse politeness said, 'If you'll excuse me, I'll go for a stroll. You evidently have important business to attend to.' She gave Derek a scathing glance, but he seemed oblivious to her gesture and the others only nodded cursorily.
She left the restaurant, kept the tears away from her eyes and idled randomly along the narrow street. She realised that her irritation was selfishly childish, but under it lay a deeper sense of hopelessness. It was clear that Derek was mildly interested in her. Probably she should feel flattered. But she didn't. She felt dismally hurt, angry at the way he kowtowed to Daniela's every move, and worse, somehow debased at the way he was playing with her. She swallowed thickly, and tried to push her thoughts away by looking unseeingly into shop windows.
She wandered into a small, dark piazza, letting her feet carry her where they would. The sound of echoing footsteps on cobblestones behind her made her turn in fear as she realised that she was quite alone in the small square. Suddenly a hand grabbed for her shoulder bag. She struggled, briefly saw the glint of yellow eyes in a dark face. The last thing she remembered was a hand pushing her hard as she screamed and toppled over on the pavement.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The next thing Jennie knew she was lying on a bed, her head aching painfully. She stretched her hands and could feel stiff sheets. When she opened her eyes, she made out the anaesthetic white, murky green and chrome of what was undeniably a hospital room. She raised her head slowly, groaning a little at its leaden weight. A form got up from a chair in the grey light of the room. Derek was before her, his face gaunt with tiredness.
'Good morning,' he tried a smile. 'How do you feel?'
'Headachy,' Jennie grimaced. 'What happened? How did I get here?'
'Every day in Palermo's recent history, a number of people are mugged.' Derek sounded as if he were quoting by rote. 'The city proliferates in pickpockets. According to the most recent census…' his voice trailed off, 'Any Baedeker will warn you not to wander the streets alone at night, Jennie.' His voice was gruff.
'I'm sorry,' he took her hand gently, 'it's my fault. I took a little too long to say goodbye to Enrico and Daniela before coming after you. I thought you'd be waiting outside, but there was no sign of you, so I looked round trying to think which way you'd g
one. Then I heard a scream and came running. I found you lying by the kerb. You must have hit your head on it, rather hard from the look of things.'
Jennie felt her head and a small groan twisted her smile. 'I've given birth to an egg, it seems.'
'As long as it's no more than that.' Derek's eyes were heavy with concern. 'They'll do some X-rays later this morning. Oh, Jennie, I am sorry.' Self-criticism hardened his voice.
Jennie squeezed the hand enveloping hers. 'You're not to blame. I'm an idiot, I seem to get into constant trouble here.'
She took in his crumpled trousers, the shadow of beard on his strong jaw, as he paced the room.
'And you've been sitting here all night?'
He looked at her quizzically. 'I thought you might like to see a familiar face when you woke up.'
'I'm very, very pleased that you're here—' her voice broke as she said it and met his eyes.
He sat down on the bed and lingered the rim of her hospital nightshirt. Jennie felt tears looming at the back of her eyes and kept them back with an effort. She gave him a tremulous smile.
He took it in. 'It's all right now. Just rest and with luck we'll have you out of here by this afternoon.'
She nodded and then looked down at herself. 'I see they've managed to undress me.' She gave him a questioning look.
'They,' he stressed, 'have. Your clothes are in that closet, a little the worse for wear, I'm afraid. I'll bring you some fresh ones when I come back this afternoon.'
'Do you have to go then?' she asked, panic suddenly mounting in her. She felt very small and alone.
'I'm sorry, love, I'm afraid I do.' He looked at her entreatingly and standing up, paced away from her. 'Damn,' he muttered under his breath, then turned towards her. 'Enrico is coming on location today and I said I would see him.'
An image of Enrico and Daniela on the previous evening sprang into Jennie's mind and she selfishly felt unable to affirm the importance of his going. Her head suddenly throbbed, and she lay back into the pillows. Derek was at her side instantly, his face suffused with tenderness.
'Does it hurt a great deal?'
'A little,' she acknowledged. And then, feeling guilt at the trouble she was so unnecessarily causing him, she added, 'But I'll be all right. Don't worry,' she smiled, putting all the assurance she could into it. 'I'll be perfectly all right.' He squeezed her hand just as a Sister, clad in bristling white, opened the door with a tray.
'Buon giorno!' she called with professional cheer and then babbled away in a swift Italian Jennie understood nothing of. But the tray she placed before her showed hot coffee and rolls, and when her pillows were propped and fluffed, she gratefully sipped the hot liquid. She passed Derek her cup and he drank a mouthful before giving her a light kiss.
'I'll be back as soon as I can,' he said quietly, and left her to the Sister's cheerful gabble.
Jennie drank her coffee, nibbled a little of the rolls and then sank into the pillows, 'Love,' he had said to her, she remembered, as she closed her eyes and sank into a light sleep.
She woke to the sound of the door opening. A nurse entered carrying a bundle of magazines and papers. 'Il signore,' she gestured with her hands to denote height.
'Grazie,' Jennie said in her best accent, and leafed through the bundle. Derek had brought her everything imaginable from The Times to Newsweek. From somewhere in the mass of papers, an envelope emerged with her name on it. Jennie tore it open. 'Rest,' it said in bold letters, 'I'll see you very soon.'
Jennie felt strangely blessed. A smile hovered over her lips as she flicked through the bundle. She read here and there as items caught her interest. In one of the papers she happened to see a diary piece about their film. Derek and Matthew were mentioned in glowing terms. Thrilled, she tore it out and put it on the small night table. Just then a doctor walked into the room.
'E l'inglesa,' she heard the nurse say.
The doctor examined her somewhat brusquely, mumbling about silly tourists beneath his breath, and ushered her off towards the X-ray room.
Jennie noticed that most of the wards were crammed with beds and wondered at how she had managed to be in her own room. Derek, she suddenly thought. No wonder the doctor had mistaken her for some wealthy tourist!
The X-ray over, she padded back to her room and dropped gratefully down on the bed.
When she woke some time later, it took her a moment to remember her whereabouts. The sun was already low in the sky. She glanced at her watch: four o'clock, she had almost slept the day through. She moved her head gingerly, relieved to feel the painful throbbing had subsided a little. She wished Derek would arrive.
The sound of the door opening made her look up expectantly, and a sharp stab pierced through her. Max stood in the doorway.
He looked clown at her with an inappropriate grin.
'Poor Jennie,' he shook his head. 'The hotel told me you'd had an "accident". It seems your new man isn't taking care of you too well.' He gloated over her. 'Perhaps you should have come with me yesterday after all.'
Jennie searched for words with which she could lunge out at him, cut him to the quick. But only a steely, 'Leave me alone, Max,' came to her lips. It had an oddly definitive ring to it. Its very sound began to give her strength.
But Max smiled smugly. 'I have, for quite a long time, if you remember. But it seems you might be ready for me now.' He touched her arm with a moist hand and removing his glasses, looked her over with a clinical gaze.
A shrill laugh suddenly escaped Jennie's lips. 'I'll never be ready for you Max. Never!' Her smouldering hatred, the desire for revenge she had long kept hidden even from herself, had all at once transformed itself into contempt. Max seemed small, devoid of the power he had long had over her, not particularly worthy of the place he had taken in her reflections.
'It's simple, Max,' she said, her tone crisp. 'Can't you see I don't care for you any more? It must have been a childish infatuation, no more than that. Hardly surprising, given the attention you paid me, the power you had over a mere student.'
It was out, and as she said it, she was struck by the truth of her words.
But Max was not so easily to be dismissed. An insinuating grin spread over his face. 'I'm the first to be pleased that you're no longer a child.' Before Jennie could move away, he plunged his lips down on hers.
'Excuse me if I'm intruding,' a deep voice burst in upon them.
Jennie pulled away from Max's unwanted kiss, feeling the flush rising to her face. Derek's eyes were dark with rage, while Max looked disgustingly pleased with himself, like a small boy who had just stolen an exceptionally tasty biscuit.
'I've brought you your things, Jennie.' Derek towered over her and all but threw her overnight bag down on the floor. Then he turned away and seemed to be on the point of leaving.
Jennie found her voice. 'Max was just saying goodbye,' she announced emphatically. 'Goodbye, Max,' her words ordered him away.
Max paused, seemed about to protest and then changed his mind. He glanced selfconsciously at his watch. 'Yes, I really must be getting back to my students. See you soon, Jennie. Very soon.' He bent again to kiss her and then stretched out his hand to Derek, who seemed not to notice. Max shrugged and moved towards the door, only looking back to give Jennie a slow, deliberate wink.
Conceited fool, Jennie thought to herself; but her mind was already with Derek. He looked more tired than Jennie remembered, his face pale beneath the tan, his shoulders hunched with repressed anger.
'The nurse tells me you can go now,' he said, his voice rigidly formal. 'I'll wait outside while you dress. Unless you'd rather have Max take you back?' He kept his eyes fixed on a space somewhere above her head.
Jennie shook her head. Her heart sank at Derek's tone. The closeness of the morning was shattered. She watched Derek's broad back receding through the door and tears burned her eyelids. It would be too late to recapture his tenderness now. He must think she had lied to him about Max being merely a forgotten figure from the p
ast. And once they were back with the others, once Daniela was present, Derek's attention would inevitably focus elsewhere. Now that she had done his mural for him and he had thanked her properly, what further need was there for contact?
Jennie sighed deeply and then with something like relief, got out of bed and reached for her bag. She noted that it contained far more than she needed, and having rummaged through her clothes, she pulled on a pair of jeans and a black tee-shirt with deliberate movements. Then she took a long breath and tried a smile. A new mood seemed to be overtaking her. To her surprise, she felt strangely calm.
Perhaps it's better this way, she thought to herself. She would at last be her own woman again. Max's memory, the pain he had caused her seemed finally to have been put to rest by his reappearance as a more than ordinary mortal. And Derek—well, since he couldn't love her, he could only end by hurting her. Jennie smiled a wry smile and squared her shoulders. So that was that! She was better off without men anyway. They had never done her any good.
Jennie pulled her long legs into Derek's car and sat as far away from him as possible. He seemed sullen, impatient, closed to her. He didn't ask her how she felt, simply moved the car fitfully through congested streets. She noticed that he didn't take the turning marked Cefalu.
'Haven't you missed our road?' she broke the silence.
He started at the sound of her voice, as if he had forgotten her presence. Then he said gruffly, 'We're not going to Cefalu.'
'Can I ask where we are going, then?'
'You'll see.' He glanced at her briefly and jammed his foot on the accelerator so that the car leapt forward with dizzying speed.
Jennie forced all questions away from her tongue and made herself relax into the car's upholstery. They were climbing past grey-green olive groves now, up into rounded hills which seemed eternal in their solidity. The air had an eerie hush in the setting sunlight and for no explicable reason Jennie felt sure that they were close to hidden necropoli, ancient burial grounds enclosed by wind-shaped trees. When the pink glow had abruptly given way to darkness, the lights of a mountain-top town were suddenly upon them creating a jagged pattern against the blue-black sky.
