by Iris Danbury
Later in the day this uncertainty was solved when Carla disclosed that one of her mother’s friends had apparently been dining at the cafe and seen Carla’s performance.
‘Of course she doesn’t say she was there,’ complained Carla bitterly, ‘she says her nephew saw me. Then she telephoned Mamma to congratulate me.’
‘Well, the whole affair was bound to come out sooner or later.’ Althea tried to be consoling. ‘But perhaps you didn’t tackle it in the right way. Wouldn’t it have been better if you’d waited a while before accepting Gregorio’s offers and gradually persuaded your mother to let you sing there?’ Carla’s tear-washed dark eyes stared at Althea. ‘But how could I wait like that? I wanted to pretend to Kent that I was in love with Gregorio.’
‘And does Kent believe that?’
Carla smiled happily. ‘He has become jealous. So you see, now I am certain that Kent really loves me. He is jealous if another man even looks at me.’
Althea regarded the other girl with a kind of pitying tenderness. ‘But you’ve made everything difficult for him, haven’t you? You can’t visit him at his villa and he’s forbidden to come here.’
Tears welled up again in Carla’s eyes. ‘Oh, what shall I do now?’ she wailed miserably.
‘If you really love each other, there are other places to meet, without even going to Naples. Romeo and Juliet would have found ways.’
Carla brightened at once, blinking away the tears. ‘Oh, yes, you will help me. Also, your father will be able to talk to Mamma and persuade her that I’m not a bad or wicked girl. She listens to what Lorenzo—your father—tells her.’
‘She may listen, but is she easily influenced?’
‘But of course! Do you not know that?’ but Carla broke off and turned her head away.
Althea took little notice of that broken silence. Her thoughts were concentrated more on avoiding the role of Nurse to Carla’s Juliet and arranging clandestine meetings with Kent. Why on earth had she ever mentioned those star-crossed lovers?
She ought at least to warn Kent, however, that at present he was not welcome at the Villa Stefano. After that, he would have to make his own progress in whatever way he chose.
She wrote a note telling him that all was discovered. She could ask one of the gardeners to take it to Kent’s villa. Then she changed her mind and decided to walk down to the Villa
Castagna herself. After all, she was not forbidden to visit the man.
Kent was lying flat on his back in the shade of one of his chestnut trees. For a moment or two she stared down at him, noting the strong line of his jaw, his tanned face and the way his dark brown hair grew. When he opened his eyes she was slightly disconcerted by the blue intensity of his stare.
‘And how long have you been there gazing at my defenceless form?’ he enquired without moving.
‘Are you tired? Or just plain lazy?’ she asked.
He sat up, rubbed his hands through his hair, which action did nothing for tidiness, then sprang lithely to his feet.
‘I have a lazy nature,’ he said. ‘And why are you so energetic at this hour of the afternoon?’
‘I’m a bearer of bad tidings,’ she announced pompously, then laughed. ‘Actually, I don’t know how much will surprise or disappoint you.’ She related the events of the morning and as far as possible watched his face for his reactions, but he gave little away. She did not mention that Carla, in her almost schoolgirl fashion, had been using Gregorio to play off Kent. Let Carla tell him that.
By now she and Kent had strolled nearer to his house.
‘Would you like something to drink? Tea? Coffee? Wine?’ he offered.
‘Your inimitable tea, if it’s no trouble.’
‘Well, it is,’ he said flatly. ‘I’ve remembered that Assunta told me she needs a new kettle. Look, I’ve a better idea. Let’s go up Monte Solaro in the chair-lift. There’s a cafe at the top. It’ll be a fine way of escaping from prying eyes. Or aren’t you included in the ban on Kent Sanderby?’
She laughed. ‘I’m not sure, except that for the moment I can’t invite you even to our part of the villa, our “gingerbread house”.’
‘In that case, your father and I will have to meet somewhere else to discuss his business details about the shop. One of the cafes, probably.’
He excused himself for a quarter of an hour and disappeared into the house. When he came out he was wearing a clean white shirt and a cream jacket, and his hair looked tidier, although in today’s sirocco that would not stay unruffled for long.
At the Piazzetta della Vittoria in the centre of Anacapri he glanced up the mountain and swore softly under his breath.
‘There’s a cloud on top,’ he pointed out. ‘Unless it blows away, we shan’t be able to see much of the island. D’you mind?’
She had noticed on previous occasions that a white cloud often hovered over the peak of Monte Solaro when below, all was sunshine and clear blue skies.
‘No, I don’t mind,’ she said now. ‘I’ve been here a long time and keep putting off going up for one reason or another. Let’s chance it.’
She slid gently into the first chair available and fastened the bar and safety chain across her lap. In a moment or two she turned’ her head to see that Kent was following in the next chair. He waved to her.
Today she had made an astonishing, even appalling, discovery. All Carla’s tattle of this or that ruse to make Kent jealous had passed Althea by without effect, but less than an hour ago, as she gazed down at Kent lying on the ground, his arms clasped behind his head, his eyes closed and features relaxed, some mysterious change had taken place. She wanted to kneel down and cradle his head in her arms; she wanted his arms to respond and clasp her shoulders. The seconds ticked by as she stood there and if he had not opened his eyes and seen her, she believed she would have crept silently away, then run as fast as she could, putting this ridiculous notion behind her. She had a second chance to escape while he was changing his clothes, yet she was incapable of taking that decisive step.
As she walked beside him through the village to the chairlift station, his nearness affected her in a way that no other man’s presence had ever touched her.
Now she was glad of this short interval of time to be alone in the swinging chair moving steadily up the mountain. She must entirely forget this madness for the rest of the time that Kent stayed in Capri. Whether he was in love with Carla or not made little difference, except that Althea had at least one object of jealousy. Kent Sanderby was not the right sort of man with whom to fall so casually, yet so deeply in love. He liked admiration from women, he liked their companionship, but marriage was perhaps no more than a smudge of cloud on his very distant horizon. The thought rose in her mind that she did not even know if he were married or not.
As the chair swung upwards she could see on either side the spreading contours of the island, the craggy coast, the vineyard slopes, the clustered village of Anacapri, and in almost every direction the lavender-coloured sea. Then quite suddenly the sunshine and all the view were blotted out in a white fog. This was the cloud that so often hovered over the peak of Monte Solaro and always looked as though it would move away before you arrived.
She dismounted from the chair and waited for Kent to follow.
‘Who would believe that one could so easily sail up into the clouds?’ he greeted her. ‘Disappointing, though. It’s such a marvellous view on a clear day.’
The open-air cafe was called ‘Song of the Sky’ but today the chairs and tables stood forlornly in the mist, the gay umbrellas drooped and the place seemed deserted, except for a waiter who loomed out of the cloud to take their order.
Althea was glad of the hot coffee. At this altitude and without the sun she felt chilled, but she recognised that her spirit as well as her body suffered from the bleakness around her. Less than an hour ago she had been warmed by the glow of loving, the thrill of a discovery that kindled vitality, but now it seemed almost symbolic that not only the sunny landscape
below was shut out, but her whole bright future was veiled in obscurity. Even the fact that Kent was sitting opposite her and that they were together in this swirling white cloud gave her little pleasure, for he seemed even more remote.
He, too, seemed affected by the chilly atmosphere and made little conversation. As soon as they had finished the coffee he said abruptly, Tet’s go. This place is icy. Would you like to walk down?’
‘I’m no mountaineer, but I suppose it’s possible.’ She had not come prepared for rough clambering down steep places.
‘Of course it’s possible. How d’you think the people managed before there were chair-lifts?’
‘Climbed up as well as climbed down,’ she answered. ‘Exactly. I know the way. I shan’t lose you in the fog.’
She smiled. She was lost already, fog or no fog. Exasperation assailed her that she had calmly allowed herself to fall victim to Kent’s charm, but she was determined to crush down any tender feelings. In future she would become harder where he was concerned.
While these thoughts ran through her mind Kent had been leading the way down the path to the valley and within the space of a few yards the cloud mist vanished. He paused to look back as she caught him up.
‘Astonishing, isn’t it? You’d scarcely believe that one cloud could spend so much time hanging round a mountain like that.’
His sombre mood had lifted now that they were in the sunshine again and even Althea felt enlivened in spite of her depressing thoughts.
‘There’s a delightful church in this valley,’ he said as they walked on. ‘Santa Maria at Cetrella, it’s called.’
A bend in the path eventually showed the cream bulk of the building with its domed tower against a background of rock. Althea was glad to rest for a few minutes in the cool, dark interior of the church, while Kent pointed out its fine architectural features.
When they came out he showed her a path he had once tried.
‘It leads down to Marina Piccola, and at one time I suppose people came up this way to the church and other parts of the island, but it scared me. I started off in fine style, but various landslides have sheared away whatever paths there may have been and it means jumping down great crags of rock from shelf to shelf like a mountain goat.’
‘But you arrived on the shore in the end?’
He glanced at her with a kind of amused annoyance. ‘What a fool question! This was last year. You don’t suppose that my ghost has been walking about in my clothes ever since?’
She returned his scrutiny with as casual air as she could manage. ‘Not such a fool question, I think. How could I know that you didn’t give up and return to the top?’
‘I try never to give up if I can help it, even though sometimes I’m bashing my head against a brick wall.’
‘Isn’t that sheer arrogance?’ she queried. ‘Sometimes it takes more courage to go back and start again at the beginning.’
‘Is that what you do?’
‘I might if I think it’s necessary.’
By now they were following a well-maintained path that led towards Anacapri.
Kent pointed to his right. Took down there. You can see the Sirens’ Rock, just to the right of the old ruined castle. That’s where they sat, combing their hair and singing songs to lure innocent men ashore.’
Althea laughed. ‘I never quite understand the difference between sirens and mermaids.’
‘Is there any? Their purpose seems to be identical, whatever their shape,’ he retorted.
‘Is it permitted to ask whether you’ve made any progress with your opera, the one about the mermaids?’
He grunted. ‘Not much. I seem to have been too busy with other things.’
‘Well, you’ve spent a lot of time rebuilding your villa.’
‘Yes, I’m more anxious to get on with that than with any footling opera project. Music is not my true vocation, only an attractive sideline.’
‘Carla will be disappointed if you don’t give some of your time to opera.’ She forced herself to mention Carla.
‘Oh, Carla doesn’t have to wait for mine. There are plenty of other operas, dozens of famous ones that she can sing in if she wants to.’
‘Is she ever going to get as far as professional opera?’
Kent was silent for a minute or so while he lit a long thin cigar. ‘No, I don’t think so. She has a good, flexible light-opera voice, but she has neither the power nor the temperament for La Bohème or Butterfly.’
‘Does she know this herself?’
He laughed. ‘She pretends she has the makings of a great star, but she doesn’t really believe it. Marriage and a couple of nice children are going to be much more in her line.’
The word ‘marriage’ struck coldly at Althea and she no longer wanted to pursue the subject.
‘We shall come to the famous Villa San Michele soon,’ he told her. ‘Have you explored it yet?’
‘Yes, although only a brief visit with my father. I’d like to see it again.’
As they walked through this lovely villa something caught at Althea’s senses, easing the dull aches and piercing jabs of the afternoon. It was impossible not to be influenced by the peaceful atmosphere which surrounded this exquisite home built by Axel Munthe, the Swedish doctor who worked and dreamed for most of his lifetime of rebuilding and restoring an ancient ruin, then filled it with antiquities and treasures, some of them even rescued from the sea.
‘Wonderful old man,’ murmured Kent. ‘He called it his “temple to the sun” and it’s a good name.’
In every alcove of the long sculpture loggia were busts and statues of marble or bronze; the end of the pergola seemed poised precariously over the sea and here Kent and Althea sat for a few quiet moments on the wide semi-circular seat.
‘What a colossal task it must have been to build a place like this!’ she murmured, lost in the dream-world of beauty.
‘You’re resting on the site of one of old Tiberio’s villas,’ Kent said. ‘When he died they threw all his palaces into the sea, but some of those slabs of coloured marble we’ve walked on here were once trodden by the Emperor’s noble feet, nearly two thousand years ago.’ He turned to look at her. ‘That should give you a sense of perpetuity, make you realise how short and insignificant our puny lives are.’
She nodded without speaking, for words would sound feeble when below the precipitous cliffs the murmur of the sea had spoken with many voices, calm and angry, through eternity.
When she and Kent arrived at the red granite sphinx, he said. ‘Put your hand on the sphinx and make a wish. They say it has magical properties for those who wish from the heart.’
His tone of voice caused her to glance swiftly at his face. He was gazing at the mysterious Egyptian sphinx and his expression was serious and thoughtful, almost sombre. Then he turned his head and his intensely blue eyes met hers for an instant before she lowered her lids, unable to sustain that compelling regard that melted her bones and undermined her will-power.
What did she imagine she saw in Kent’s eyes? What had she revealed in her own? She put her hand on the smooth dome of the sphinx’s head, polished now by the caress of many hands, and made a wish, one that was not expressed in silent words, but no more than a half-formed, incoherent thought in which Kent, love and happiness were mingled.
Kent placed his hand over her own, then slid it to the sphinx’s back. He smiled at her, then abruptly moved away, but he was still grasping her hand in his own as he guided her towards the exit.
‘Don’t you want to know what I wished?’ he asked after a few moments.
‘No, indeed,’ she said hurriedly, almost putting her hand over his mouth. ‘Don’t tell—or it won’t come true.’
‘I’d no idea you were so superstitious,’ he jeered. ‘I thought you were too hard-headed and matter-of-fact for such notions.’
‘Everyone has her own inconsistencies,’ she retorted. ‘That’s why one says, “Oh, I should never have believed it of her” when some unexpec
ted incident takes place.’
When they walked through the village towards the Villa Stefano, Kent said suddenly, ‘What was it you were telling me about Carla? That she’s forbidden to leave the house?’
She laughed at this show of ignorance. He remembered perfectly well, she had no doubt at all.
‘Not quite. You’re the one who’s forbidden to visit Stefano.’
‘And the lessons in Naples?’
‘Not without a reliable chaperone,’ answered Althea. ‘If I can’t go or can’t be ordered to act as duenna, then probably Mamma herself will go and escort her capricious daughter.’
‘I see,’ he said airily, then added, ‘Well, you’ll have to let me know when they’re both out of the way, so that I can come and hobnob with your father. He says he wants further advice about the projected shop.’
‘I can see I’m going to be kept fully occupied as a messenger girl.’
‘There are classical precedents. Think of Iris tripping across her rainbow with all those messages from the gods.’
‘You have it wrong,’ she told him firmly. ‘The gods sent Mercury with peaceful commands and Iris when they meant trouble. You’d better make up your mind which kind I’m to be.’
‘Oh, you’ll be both by turn whenever it suits you,’ was his reply as they arrived at the gates of Villa Stefano and he took his leave.
It was almost dinner-time when Althea reached her room, but she was in such a rapturous mood that she was reluctant to shower, and change her dress. She flung herself on her bed and stared ecstatically at the ceiling as though that would answer her wild questions. Was Kent beginning to love her? Or was he merely idling the time with her to draw attention away from the fact that he wanted Carla?
