by Iris Danbury
‘I suppose that’s why Emilia doesn’t much care for him or visualise him as a prospective son-in-law. She’d prefer someone with a good steady job.’
Mr. Buckland yawned and Althea pounced on him. Ted, Father. I wish you hadn’t been upset by that outburst from Carla, but I’m glad I told the Signora about it first, or Carla would have accused me again of being sly and a sneak.’
Her father laughed. ‘She did. She called you all sorts of uncomplimentary names in Italian. Sly, mean, underhand trickster and a lot more. You’ll have to take your Italian lessons more seriously if you want to keep up with that girl.’
‘I shall have to learn a whole new vocabulary,’ she answered.
‘Well, at least Emilia won’t be annoyed if you bring this man Sanderby here sometimes,’ Mr. Buckland commented. ‘That should make for a certain amount of peace. In any case, you have a perfect right to meet whomever you choose outside the house.’
‘Still, all the same, I wouldn’t deliberately go against her wishes,’ replied Althea. ‘I don’t want you involved in these controversial arguments.’
‘Oh, indeed! I was glad of a bit of excitement, as long as no one came to blows. In fact, I really feel that I’m having too much cosseting. I shall go into a decline as a result of always being lapped in comfort and insulated from all the little pinpricks of life.’
‘Time to talk about that in six months’ time,’ she said sternly. ‘Dr. Fortini is apprehensive that the moment he turns his back, you’ll exert yourself too much and climb up and down the cliffs.’
‘Oh, it’s not cliff-climbing I’m particularly keen on. I’m beginning to feel I need something to occupy my mind. I’ve been chewing over an idea, but much of it depends on you.’
‘Permission to chew over ideas certainly does depend on me,’ she told him. ‘You’re tired, Father. You can tell me about your brainwaves in the morning.’
‘No, Althea, I’d like to tell you something about it now. Stop prowling about and sit down and listen.’
She yielded, for she saw that unless she gave in, her father would probably have a restless night.
‘How d’you feel about staying here in Capri for a longish time? I don’t mean for the rest of your life, of course, but a year or two, say.’
‘I haven’t thought much about the future. The main thing was for you to get well.’
‘Yes, but it’s a different life for both of us. I worked myself too hard and I put too much pressure on you, too.’
‘No, Father, I didn’t have more than I could take. Sometimes I became worried about you, with the everlasting journeys.’
‘Yes, it was the endless travelling that probably made me crack up. Well, my plan is one that wouldn’t involve much travelling about at all.’
‘Yes?’ she prompted cautiously.
‘A shop. Here in Capri. Selling gorgeous textiles to the tourist. A length of good Italian silk might be a better souvenir of Capri than all those tawdry little toys down in the shops.’
‘But there are several very good fabric shops already in Capri.’
‘I thought of one in Anacapri, if possible,’ he told her. ‘Well? What do you think of the general idea?’ He was eagerness itself and she knew she had to restrain these enterprising impulses or before long he would involve himself all over again in the world of business.
‘I need time to think about it, Father,’ she said gently. ‘It might be something that we ought to consider a step at a time. We’re foreigners here, and apart from finding suitable premises, no doubt there are all sorts of formalities to be agreed with the local authorities.’
‘You wouldn’t mind staying here, then?’
‘We could be living in a lot worse places,’ she answered. ‘Now I really must insist that you go to bed.’
Now that he had suggested the idea and apparently Althea was not definitely opposed to it, Mr. Buckland allowed himself to be hustled off to bed.
In her own room Althea considered the various separate problems that all seemed to have cropped up in one evening. First, there was this sudden volte-face on the part of Signora Marchetti in her attitude towards Kent Sanderby. Obviously she was hostile to any strong friendship between her daughter and Kent, but would not protest if Althea struck up such a relationship. Did she see Althea as a new and effective counterweight to a temporary infatuation that Carla might have for this neighbour? Althea was amused at the idea that she was being used as a pawn in the game of guiding Carla’s ideas about men in the right direction.
Then what about Kent Sanderby? Althea was not particularly drawn to him. At home in England she had met plenty of young men to squire her to dances and theatres. She enjoyed their company and often had more in common with them than she believed she could have with Kent. She had never really seriously analysed her reasons for not marrying. She was only twenty-one and there was no need for haste. Certainly her father had never been the obstacle, although at the present time he needed more care and attention and she would have been reluctant to leave him. Perhaps it was that no man had yet touched off that spark of rapture which enriches and elevates a pleasant companionship into a magical world of delight.
In any case she was not inclined to make demands on Kent merely because he had taken her to dinner one evening. No doubt he was bored with his own company or his particular friends had not yet arrived in Capri to keep him amused.
Althea was certainly not going to put herself into a position where he could taunt her with chasing after him. She could not so conveniently fall in with whatever plans Signora Marchetti had in mind.
Yet she was glad to stay on the island. Would her father want to continue living with the Marchettis or think about renting some small place of his own? The arrangement with Signora Marchetti had been for a definite minimum period of six months, but no doubt that could be extended if necessary. It would take some time before her father’s plans could mature. A suitable shop would have to be found, possibly altered; various permits would have to be obtained and a stock of fabrics purchased.
Althea decided that provided she could prevent her father from over-exerting himself she would welcome an occupation with a flexible routine. She had idled long enough.
When she met Carla next morning, Althea was prepared for the girl to be in a sullen or angry mood. On the contrary, Carla was all smiles and enthusiasm.
‘I am very happy,’ she told Althea excitedly. ‘Again I ask Mamma to allow me to go to Naples for singing lessons and now she says she will consider it. Oh, she will agree. I know she will!’
‘Has Mr. Sanderby persuaded her, then?’ asked Althea.
‘I do not know, but I think he must have helped me. Has he been here this morning?’
‘Not as far as I know.’
‘Then he has not been here, for he would not call without seeing you.’ Carla’s tone was suddenly bitter, as though she had just remembered her indignation and fury of last night.
But she was more concerned with the prospect of her longed-for weekly escape to the mainland to be enraged with Althea now.
‘Have you already found a suitable singing teacher?’
‘No. But Kent will know. This is where you can help me, Althea.
‘But how could I know anyone in Naples?’
‘No, that is not what I mean. You must come with me to call on Kent this morning and let him suggest someone.’
‘But your mother will not approve of your visiting him.’
Carla flung out her hands in a petulant gesture. ‘If I do nothing, I shall never sing well. First, we must have the information about the teacher. Only Kent can tell us than Then we will tell Mamma that a man has been found. After that a visit can be arranged. Mamma must know the fees, of course.’
Althea agreed dubiously, although she saw that it was probably better for the two girls to accompany each other than for Carla to go alone to the Villa Castagna.
Assunta, the woman who cooked and kept house for Kent, told Carla that the Signore w
as busy working on his building.
‘Then we will find him,’ declared Carla, leading the way round the side of the villa to what looked like a builder’s junk-yard. Kent was trimming a piece of stone to fit on to part of the wall. Althea now saw what she had failed to notice on her previous visit. Only a small portion of the villa was habitable. Behind the facade with its pergola were only two or three rooms, one of them fairly large. The rest was no more than a jumble of broken walls and pillars.
‘Mind where you tread!’ he called out. ‘I don’t want either of you tripping over boulders.’
Althea flushed slightly, for although he had included Carla in his warning, she knew he meant it for her.
‘And what great excitement brings you here?’ he asked. ‘Isn’t my place out of bounds?’
‘Kent, you must please listen,’ begged Carla, stepping over several rough blocks of stone.
‘All right, but forgive me if I continue to work. I’m listening.’ He dabbed cement on a portion of the wall and placed the stone on top, bending down to squint at its position before ramming it home.
Althea felt irritated by his brusque, off-hand attitude towards Carla. If he didn’t want to encourage her youthful infatuation, he must surely know that his very casualness would only make her the more eager to overcome his opposition.
‘It is the singing lessons,’ Carla announced, undeterred by his coolness.
‘What about them? Your mamma won’t let you g« to Naples.’
‘But now she will!’ cried Carla happily. ‘She has agreed.’
Kent swung round, trowel in hand. ‘A sudden change of tactics. Your doing, Althea?’
‘No, indeed. I can’t claim any credit at all,’ she replied quickly.
Carla waved a hand in Althea’s direction. ‘Perhaps it is because Althea is here that Mamma has agreed. She can be my chaperone, you see.’
‘Chaperone?’ This was the first Althea had heard of the idea.
‘I see,’ said Kent. ‘As you’ve come here today, chaperoning each other.’ As he spoke he cast a challenging glance at Althea.
‘I doubt if I could go with you every week for your lesson,’ Althea said to Carla.
‘That is nothing. First we must have the teacher. Kent, you are a composer. You know all the musicians in Naples.’
Kent laughed. ‘I know one or two, that’s all. I don’t even live in the place. How could I know many?’
‘But you can find out. Your friends will recommend?’ Carla persisted.
He nodded. ‘If you think it’s for your own good, yes.’
‘But of course it is good for me,’ retorted Carla. ‘How shall I ever sing in opera if I am not properly trained?’
Kent smiled. ‘All right. We’d better go and sit somewhere more comfortable and talk this matter over.’
The two girls followed him to the seaward side of the villa, where he called to Assunta to bring a pot of coffee.
‘Now you understand, Carla,’ he began, ‘anyone I suggest may possibly turn you down, refuse to teach you, if he thinks your voice is not good enough.’
‘Oh, that will not happen to me,’ returned Carla with superb confidence.
‘But you must prepare yourself for such difficulties,’ he pointed out.
‘When shall we go to Naples?’ the girl asked.
Kent sighed and Althea smiled a little. Plainly Carla was the type of girl whose eyes, fixed on a distant goal, saw nothing of the stumbling blocks cluttered around her feet.
‘Well, give me a few days. I have to go over to Naples and search around.’
‘You could telephone.’
‘Carla, please! How could such an important matter be arranged by telephone? Think of your mamma if she finds you are to visit a professor living in one room in a back street!’
‘Be patient a little longer.’ Althea spoke gently. ‘You’ve had to wait so long for this ambition. Don’t spoil it by being too hasty now. Let Kent arrange what he thinks is best for you.’
Carla shrugged. ‘Then it is settled. Oh, you will be proud of me one day when I am Madama Carlotta Marchetti at La Scala!’
‘Of course I shall,’ agreed Kent. ‘I shall boast that I knew La Marchetti when she was an unruly, spoilt girl, only fit for singing in a cabaret or garden-restaurant.’
‘You are very unkind, Kent. You make fun of me.’
‘Certainly not. I tell you only the truth—or as much as is good for you,’ he protested.
The coffee was finished and he rose. ‘And now be off with you and let me get on with my building work.’
For some reason Althea was inwardly perturbed. When Carla happened to be a few yards away, as Kent accompanied the two girls towards the path that led back to the Villa Stefano, Althea whispered, ‘You’re not leading her up the garden, are you? Pretending that she has a wonderful career in front of her?’
‘What makes you think so?’ he answered in a low tone that resembled a growl. ‘She has a good voice. Who knows yet what she can do with it?’
‘But her mother would never let her go away to follow a professional career.’
‘How well d’you know the Signora? You’ve been here—what?—two months? How d’you know whether she’d change her mind or not?’
Althea was silent for a moment. Then she said, ‘No, of course I don’t know, any more than I know whether you can be a successful builder of an old ruined villa.’
The words were spoken at random, the first jibe that came into her head, but she was astonished by his reaction. He flung back his head and laughed, first a great masculine guffaw, then a deep, throaty chuckle. He stopped on the path and grasped her by the shoulders. ‘Do I doubt that your father can tell pure silk material from rayon? What d’you think I am? A dilettante composer who spends two or three months here on the island and the rest of the year idling about among musicians?’
‘I’ve never asked what you do for the rest of the year or what your profession is.’
‘I’ll write out my qualifications on a postcard,’ he snapped. ‘You need not bother. I gather you have some knowledge of the building trade. I apologise if I misjudged you, although even some musicians are proud of their profession.’ By this time Carla had caught up with them. ‘What are you saying to Kent?’ she demanded. ‘That he is not a good musician?’
‘Nothing so dangerous,’ replied Althea, with a smile.
‘He goes to many famous places and cities. Soon his operas will be famous, too. Perhaps one day I shall also go with him to Paris, New York, London.’
‘Did he tell you that, Carla?’ cut in Althea. ‘Don’t believe all he says.’
‘Carla has accepted me for what I am here, a fourth-rate composer on holiday. She doesn’t bother about the rest of my life. It doesn’t matter to her that I spend it restoring old houses.’
What does he mean?’ queried Carla, looking from Kent to Althea and back again.
‘Excuse me, I’d like to get on with the job in hand at the moment.’ Kent threw a crisp ‘Goodbye’ over his shoulder, as he turned away and walked back to his task.
Carla stared after him. ‘Does he mean he works?’ she asked in perplexity, and Althea almost laughed at the disgust in the girl’s voice as she emphasised the word ‘work’.
‘I suppose so,’ replied Althea. ‘I gather he’s some sort of architect.’
‘Then he does not compose all the time?’
‘Oh, I expect he uses some of his spare time all the year round on his music,’ Althea assured her. ‘He comes to Capri probably so that he can be far away from his business matters. Here he can create his music in peace and quiet.’
‘But he also builds walls and perhaps puts down the floors and paints the walls. That is work for humble people.’
‘Not always. In London or wherever it is he lives, he would only supervise the work of building or rebuilding. Others would carry out his instructions. Here, it is different. He is working on a villa he has bought and is restoring Castagna as a place to li
ve in.’
Clearly in Carla’s estimation Kent had fallen very low indeed. He was not a man who gave his life to creative music, but someone who actually worked for a living.
‘He didn’t give you the impression that he was a full-time composer, did he?’ Althea asked.
‘No, he never said that.’ Carla was evidently searching her memory for clues to his exact words at various times. ‘I just thought—oh, it doesn’t matter. Perhaps he doesn’t know good teachers in Naples or anywhere,’ she finished miserably.
Althea was very angry with herself. In a rash moment she had more or less forced Kent to disclose his background and now it seemed that Carla had lost faith in him.
‘Oh, I’m sure he does know a suitable teacher or he would never have promised to introduce you,’ Althea said now. ‘Think of it like this. Many men can’t afford just to create music, unless they are very rich. They have to make a living some other way.’
That explanation seemed to satisfy Carla for the time being.
There was, however, a further point that occurred to Althea. ‘Are we to tell your mother that we have been to see Kent at his villa this morning?’
‘Oh, indeed, yes. That is why I asked you to accompany me. She would not like me to call alone, but with you, it’s different.’
The rest of the day passed off calmly enough until after dinner when Cristo happened to be alone with Althea on the terrace of the villa.
‘You have avoided me all day,’ he accused her. ‘I have been very unhappy.’
Althea smiled. ‘I haven’t avoided you, Cristo. I’ve been busy, that’s all. Carla and I had some matters to attend to this morning and I’ve been with my father most of the afternoon.’
