by Lucy Gordon
At last he slipped out of his front door and silently went down to Minnie’s home. Watching her face, just before she’d left the party, he’d seen real hurt there, and it troubled him. He knew he was being unwise. Her power to make him feel protective was something he should fight, but he wasn’t sure how.
One window of her living room looked out directly on to the staircase. The curtains were half open and he stopped to look in. The lights were low inside, but he could see her curled up on the sofa beside a small lamp. Then he realised that her lips were moving and her eyes were directed at Gianni’s photograph, resting in her lap.
He drew in his breath and stood quite still, unwilling to believe what he saw. But he had to believe it when she drew the picture up against her chest, her arms crossed over it as though clinging on for safety.
No, he thought despondently. Not clinging. Embracing. Because there was nobody else in the world that she wanted to embrace. She had found comfort, but not from himself.
He crept away. This was no place for him.
As part of furnishing his new home, Luke bought a couple of self-assembly bookshelves, which he set about putting together, soon realising that he had no gift for this. Trying to use a screwdriver, he slashed the back of his fingers, leaving him bleeding.
With no sticking plaster in the place, he was forced to wrap his hand in a handkerchief and go out to the pharmacy at the end of the street. As he emerged on to the staircase he saw a woman on the level below him, going down the last flight to the ground, then under the archway that led into the street. She was severely dressed in dark clothing and for a moment he was sure it was Minnie. He called down, but the woman didn’t seem to hear him, and in another moment she had vanished.
He ran down the stairs and out into the street, but it was crowded and although thought he glimpsed her, he couldn’t be sure. As he made his way down the street there was no sign of her.
In the pharmacy he bought a large packet of sticking plaster. On leaving he turned left down a small alley which would lead him to the Residenza by a back street. The little alley meandered for a while before emerging near the rear of a church. From here he could see the graveyard. It was a pleasant place, small and grassy, crowded with headstones that were warmed by the afternoon sun. While he stood watching, Minnie emerged from the church.
She was no longer alone. The other members of the family were with her, having probably come on ahead and met her in the church. They were walking in a little procession, led by Netta, with Minnie beside her and the Pepino brothers following. Luke stayed quite still, almost hidden among the trees.
They were all here together, dressed as mourners, which meant that this was a special day, Gianni’s birthday or the anniversary of his death. He wondered what it meant to her after four years. Did she grieve for that charmer as a memory, or as a husband? Was he still alive for her?
Unwillingly he remembered the picture in her apartment, the way she’d embraced it as though it was the only comfort on earth. How often did she renew those flowers she kept beside it? How often could you renew love before it wore out?
They were drawing nearer, towards a grave that lay a little apart from the others. Netta was weeping as she approached it, and so were some of Gianni’s brothers, but Luke was barely aware of their grief. His eyes were fixed on Minnie.
Alone among the family she was quiet. Her face was pale but composed as she knelt by her husband’s grave. Then she rose and turned her attention to comforting Netta.
They were gathering around the grave now, loading it with flowers and talking to Gianni as though he were still one of them. From their smiles some of them seemed to be cracking jokes with him.
Luke knew he should move on, but something impelled him to stay a little longer and see this through to the finish. They were rising to their feet, moving slowly away.
Then, at the last minute, Minnie paused and turned for a last look, and Luke drew a sharp breath as he saw everything he would have liked to deny.
Her face was no longer composed but ravaged, desolate, anguished. All her life’s joy was buried there, and Luke covered his eyes, suddenly unable to endure it.
When he raised his head again Minnie was looking directly at him with an expression of indignation and anger. He groaned. She would think he had been deliberately spying on her.
She turned away, contemptuously it seemed to Luke. He stood watching as the family disappeared into the church, then he hurried away, seeking to get back to the Residenza as fast as possible.
He needed time alone to think. Before his eyes she had changed into someone else. He’d known her, or thought he had, as sharp, funny, cool, in control. The other night he’d watched as she’d talked to Gianni’s picture, but she’d done so with a gentle melancholy. The grieving, devastated woman of today was different, terrible.
Inside the flat he waited, listening, until night fell and the building was quiet. At last he descended the stairs to her apartment. The lights were on, but the curtains were closed. What was happening behind them? Had she taken shelter in her private world with Gianni, the world that excluded everyone else, especially him?
After a long time the curtains parted, revealing her face, but at once she let them fall.
‘Minnie,’ he cried, knocking on the door. ‘Minnie, please open up. I must see you.’
There was no sound or movement, and he thought she was going to ignore him. But then the door opened a few inches.
‘Go away,’ she said.
‘I’ll go when we’ve talked. Please let me in.’
Reluctantly she stepped back from the door. When he’d closed it behind him Luke stood looking at her. Their brief friendly intimacy of the other night might never have been. Now she was really his enemy, and for reasons that had nothing to do with the Residenza.
‘I came to say I’m sorry,’ he said.
‘You were spying on me, and you think “sorry” covers it?’ She spoke with her back to him.
‘I wasn’t spying. I’d been to a shop and happened to walk back that way. It was pure chance; please believe me.’
When she turned he was shocked by her face, which was pale and dreadful, as though she were living on the edge of endurance. ‘All right, I believe you,’ she said tiredly. ‘But it’s none of your business, and I don’t want to talk about it.’
‘Do you ever talk about it, with anyone?’
She shrugged. ‘Netta sometimes-no, not really.’
‘Don’t you think you should?’ he asked gently.
‘Why?’ she asked wildly. ‘Why can’t I have some privacy? Gianni and I-this is mine. It’s mine. Can’t you understand that? It’s between Gianni and me.’
‘Except that there is no Gianni,’ he said, suddenly harsh. ‘He’s just a memory now. Or maybe no more than a fantasy.’
‘What does that matter? He made me happy then and he makes me happy now. Not many people ever have that kind of happiness. I want to keep it.’
‘But you can’t keep it. It’s gone, but you’ll turn your back on life rather than admit it.’
‘Who cares about life if I’ve got something better?’
‘There is nothing better.’
‘People who say that don’t know. They don’t know what it’s like to be so close to someone that it’s as though you were one person. Once you’ve had it, you always have it. You can’t let it go. Why should you try to make me?’
He’d been asking himself that, and the answer scared him.
‘Can’t you see that you’re too young to live with a ghost?’ he said, almost imploring.
‘The only thing I can see is that you have no right to interfere in my life. What I do or don’t do has nothing to do with you.’
‘You can’t prevent me wanting to stop you throwing your life away.’
‘It’s mine, to do with as I please,’ she said, angry and frustrated that he wouldn’t understand. She paused, took a deep breath and spoke with an effort. ‘Look, I’m sure yo
u’re a nice man-’
‘Be honest. That’s not what you really think of me.’
‘All right, No! I think you’re a smug, patronising, interfering, arrogant so-and-so, who’s playing games with my mind for the fun of it. I don’t like you. You’re too damned sure of yourself. Is that honest enough for you?’
‘It’ll do for starters.’
‘Then please go and leave me alone.’
‘Why? So that you can have another chat with a man who isn’t there?’ he demanded harshly. ‘Which of you dislikes me most? Him or you?’
‘Both of us.’
‘Do you do everything he tells you?’ he shouted.
‘Get out!’
He hadn’t meant to say his last words but her stubbornness was causing something cruel and dangerous to rise in him, and it made him leave, fast, shutting the door sharply behind him. Outside, he stood on the staircase for a moment before going slowly down to the ground and out of the courtyard, to spend the rest of the night wandering the streets of Trastevere in a black mood.
CHAPTER SIX
T HE next day he received a call from her secretary, making a formal appointment in her office. He wore a respectable suit in dark grey, with a snowy white shirt and a dark red tie, and was glad of it when he saw her office, a large, impressive room, the walls lined with legal books.
Almost as if inspired by the same thought, Minnie too wore a grey suit with a white blouse. He briefly considered making a mild joke about their similarity, but a glance at her face changed his mind. She was pale, with very little make-up. Her hair was drawn back against her skull in a way that seemed designed to deny life-or, perhaps, to send him a message.
‘There was no need for that, you know,’ he said gently.
‘I’m not sure of your meaning.’
‘Aren’t you? I thought you might understand. Oh, well, never mind.’
‘Signor Cayman, if we keep to the matter in hand I think we’ll make more progress.’
Her voice was cool, self-possessed, the voice of a woman in control of the situation. But he heard in it something else, a tension that made him look at her more closely, and realise that her eyes were dark and haunted.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said suddenly.
He hadn’t meant to speak the words, but they burst out.
‘There’s no need for apologies,’ she replied coolly, ‘if we can just stick to business.’
‘I didn’t mean that. I meant I’m sorry for the things I said the other night. I had no right-it was none of my business-’
‘Excuse me,’ she said swiftly, and left the room before he could realise what she meant to do.
He frowned, hardly able to believe that she’d fled him, unable to cope with what he was saying. How deep a nerve had he touched with his rash words?
The secretary brought him coffee. He drank it, then passed the next few minutes standing at the huge window, looking out over Rome. From here the view was breathtaking, with its distant view of the dome of St Peter’s, glowing under the sun. If he hadn’t known it before he would have known now that Signora Pepino was a supremely successful lawyer who could afford everything of the best. It gave a new poignancy to her refusal to leave her shabby old home.
Minnie appeared ten minutes later, her composure restored.
‘I apologise for that,’ she said. ‘I remembered a phone call I had to make.’
She seated herself, indicating for him to take the chair facing her desk. ‘I gather you’ve now been over the building extensively and seen for yourself what needs to be done.’
‘I have,’ he said, sitting down and opening his briefcase, ‘although we may not have the same ideas as to what needs to be done.’
‘You’ve seen the state the place is in?’
‘Yes, and I don’t think repairs are any more than sticking plaster. What that building needs is to be renovated from top to bottom. It’s not just a case of flaking plaster, but rotten woodwork needing to be ripped out and replaced.’
‘Your tenants will be very glad.’
‘Minnie-’
‘I think signora would be more appropriate,’ she interrupted, looking not at him but at the computer screen.
His temper began to rise. If she wanted to play tough, OK. Fine!
‘Very well, signora, let me make my position plain. My tenants are paying about half the going rate for property in that area, which is perhaps why my predecessor got into financial difficulties.’
‘Trastevere isn’t the wealthy part of Rome-’
‘It’s coming up in the world. I’ve researched the area, and I know that Trastevere has been growing more popular over the last few years. People who couldn’t afford the high prices in the rest of Rome started moving in and doing the place up. So then Trastevere prices started to rise. It’s actually becoming fashionable to live there.’
‘I see where this is leading. You’ve had an offer from a developer and you’re planning to sell us out. Forget it. Your predecessor tried that, but I stopped him by proving that the tenants are protected. They can’t be got out for at least ten years. That scares the developers off, except that some try bullying tactics. But even they can be made to wish they hadn’t started anything, as you’ll find out if you tangle with me.’
‘Can I get a word in edgeways?’ Luke snapped. ‘Whatever needs to be done at the Residenza I want to do it myself, and I want the rest of you to help me. As for bullying tactics-if that’s what you think of me, I don’t know why we’re even bothering to talk. To hell with you for thinking such things!’
He threw down his papers and strode across to the window, staring at the view without seeing it. All he could see was the turmoil in his own mind, where she had the power to cause such havoc. Her opinion of him shouldn’t matter, yet her contempt seemed to shrivel him.
‘I apologise,’ she said, behind him. ‘I shouldn’t have spoken so strongly. I don’t like being taken by surprise, and you surprise me all the time. So I-I go on to the attack.’
‘I really am sorry about the other day,’ he risked saying. ‘I didn’t mean to spy. It was an accident.’
‘I know. It’s just that there are times when I don’t like to be looked at.’
‘I think that’s most of the time,’ he suggested gently.
‘Well-never mind that.’
‘But I-damn!’
The telephone had rung. She snatched it up and spoke to her secretary, finishing with, ‘All right, put him through.’
She made a placating signal to Luke and spoke into the phone for ten minutes.
When she’d finished he asked, ‘Could you block your calls until we’ve finished?’
‘Not really. I have some important stuff coming through this morning-’
‘And it gives you a convenient escape from me, right?’
Before she could answer, the phone rang again. Moving fast, Luke lifted the receiver and slammed it back down. Then he grasped Minnie’s hand and began to walk out of the room, forcing her to go with him.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ she seethed, trying to pull free.
‘Taking you to where there’s no escape,’ he said, not loosening his grip.
On the way through the outer office they passed the secretary, whose curious gaze forced Minnie to look cheerful.
‘Just take messages until I’m back,’ she called.
‘But when will that be?’
‘I have no idea,’ she managed to say before the door closed behind her.
‘What kind of man are you?’ she demanded as they went down in the lift.
‘A man with a short fuse, a man who doesn’t like being messed about, a man who believes in direct action.’
‘So your answer is to take me prisoner? Where are you going to put me? In a dungeon?’
‘Wait and see.’
But he grinned as he said it and there was something in the sight that sent a sudden frisson through her. It was confusing not to know what he had in mind, but also st
rangely intriguing. His unpredictability should be maddening-it was maddening, she hastily corrected herself. But right now she was intensely curious.
After all, it might actually turn out to be a dungeon.
The ride to the ‘dungeon’ was by one of the horse-drawn carriages that travelled the streets of Rome.
‘Borghese Gardens, the lake,’ Luke called to the driver as they got in and seated themselves.
‘You’re going to throw me in?’ she asked.
‘Don’t tempt me,’ he growled.
She decided to wait and see before taking any hasty action. Not that there was much action she could have taken with her hand firmly clasped in his.
New York had Central Park, London had Hyde Park, Rome had the glorious Borghese Gardens, known as the ‘green lung’ of the city, a hundred and fifty acres of trees, lawns, shaded wandering paths and cool water.
At the top of the Via Veneto the driver turned his horse into the gardens, and soon they were trotting beneath trees through which the sun slanted, until the lake burst on them, its water glistening, the artificial temple on the other side white and gleaming in the glow of summer.
Leaving the carriage, Luke led her to the place where boats could be hired, but suddenly a tremor shook her and she tried to pull away from him.
‘Not here, Luke.’
‘Yes, here,’ he said firmly, keeping tight hold on her hand. ‘We’re going to take a boat and relax and talk and forget everything except that it’s a beautiful day.’
‘But-’
‘Hush,’ he said, raising the hand that was holding hers so that she could see the tight clasp as well as feel it. ‘I told you there was no escape and I meant it. Today, Signora Avvocato, you’re going to do as you’re told-for once.’
Not releasing her, he took a small rowing boat, and indicated with his head for her to get in. She did so, and he silently congratulated himself. Evidently the odd display of ‘male authority’ could be risked, even in this day and age.
She settled in the stern, watching him as he took the oars and headed out into the middle of the lake.
