Shadows of the Past

by Blake, Margaret

  With a burst of savage and erotic words, he lifted her off her feet, going with her to the bed and laying her down. He pulled at his own clothes while she lay as he had left her, her robe open, her body arched. She knew — remembered in a wild blinding flash — how it had been. He was a glorious lover, she had found complete ecstasy with him, she longed for it again, made urgent demands, tried to stop herself from tripping over into nothingness until he was where she desired him, deep inside her.

  He came then, moving up the bed, mounting her, finding her lips. ‘Do I smell of you now, Alva … mm? Taste me, taste you on me … ’

  She moaned her delight, reaching up to kiss his mouth, to plunge her tongue against his. He was there now, his maleness pulsating against her. Her hands slid down his body, holding him, guiding him, and then he was joined with her, they were one, and she could explore with him that other place, that nothingness — that place that was everything and gave her completeness.

  *

  They lay still, the early morning sun spilling light into the room, she was replete, satiated, and it had been wonderful. He had not lied about that aspect then, the sex was good but for her it was more than sex. Anyone could have sex but this … she sighed, this was different. Inside her was such love, it felt so new it overwhelmed her but it was there, she had merely forgotten how it felt. She thought she had perhaps mislaid it during their trouble, but it had not gone away. Of course she could not speak for him, who knew what he really felt. He had not said, Ti amo, but, her highly developed conscience reminded her, neither had she. She had to have said everything except those very special words.

  They were insatiable, making love as if there would be no more opportunity. Was it instinct that told her what he enjoyed, what it was drove him wild, or was there an inkling in her mind? He adored her body, he liked to gaze at her, was filled with a sensual delight when she mounted him, it drove him wild, he called out to her. ‘Sei bella … ’ Beautiful, beautiful.

  Now his hand stroked her head tenderly, and she lay at peace, her head against his chest, enjoying the steady thud of his heart beating against her cheek.

  ‘I didn’t come to do that, you know,’ he murmured.

  ‘You didn’t?’

  ‘No, I came to be awkward.’

  ‘Oh really, you mean you do awkward?’

  He chuckled. ‘Prego, so I can be a beast at times.’

  ‘I wouldn’t say that,’ she smiled contented. ‘Awkward is better. Stubborn and stand-offish … ’

  ‘Please, let me leave with some dignity.’

  ‘So why did you not just be awkward?’

  ‘Ah, bella … ‘ He kissed her head. ‘I have a thing for scarlet satin. You won’t remember but I do, I bought you that robe. We both liked it, it feels good, it looks good — ’

  ‘And by golly it does me good!’

  They burst out laughing and he hugged her to him.

  ‘That is one of our old jokes. You remember?’

  ‘No, but I do remember the line, from an advertisement I think, long ago,’ she said.

  ‘Yes, you told me so. Funny how it stayed in your mind when other things did not.’

  Her antenna pricked up and waved its spindly arms about, but no, he was not accusing her — merely stating fact.

  ‘Peripheral memory,’ she said. ‘Learned stuff. I know how to write, to read, and to calculate. Ride a horse, drive a car … ’ She smiled. ‘Make love?’

  He bent and kissed her nose. ‘Oh yes, you did not forget that.’

  ‘Should we get up?’

  ‘Do you want to?’

  ‘Not really, maybe we should take a bath — have some coffee. What do you have to do today?’

  ‘I just want to be with you, bella!’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  He had long gone and still she stayed lazily content in bed. The day had been glorious and the night … oh the night, she sighed. Who was this man? Not the austere and rather cold conte of her recent recall, but a man of warmth and fun and humour. A man both loving and passionate.

  They had dined in her room, sat out on the balcony and talked of inconsequential matters. Now as she lay there her mind flooded with images. She remembered now, as if it was yesterday, how they had met — the first time they had made love but not beyond that. The feelings she had felt came rushing in on her, overwhelming her. It was like falling in love for the very first time and that was what had happened. She had never been in love before, yet the first moment she met the Conte Luca Mazareeze was the time she fell in love.

  His voice on the telephone, she had recalled that, so warm and teasing. She made herself not picture how he would look, she knew from experience how that could bring disappointment. How many princes had she imagined from the voice, only on meeting them to find out they were frogs! The conte, though, was even more than she could have imagined. Tall, and elegant and charming. ‘Oh, gosh,’ she had said to the girl standing at her side.

  ‘Oh gosh and then gosh, gosh, and more — and he is coming across,’ the girl — and Alva could not bring her face to mind — did a little twirl but it was not her he spoke to. He had said. ‘You must be Alva.’

  ‘I must?’ she had asked, then wanted to kick herself for being stupid.

  ‘Am I wrong?’

  ‘But how do you know?’

  He smiled warmly. ‘I spoke to your boss, I said you were charming and you had the most delightful voice and he, although I did not ask, told me that you were blonde and pretty and would not be a disappointment in the flesh.’

  ‘Oh really!’ She flushed angrily. She was not sure that was quite what she wanted to hear. How dare her boss talk about her like that, as if she were part of some deal or other?

  ‘Don’t be angry with him, he was not lying. Should he have said you were old and plain?’

  ‘He shouldn’t have said anything. My appearance has nothing to do with my position.’

  He laughed into her eyes. ‘If you think that you are deceiving yourself.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Her back was well and truly up, just what was he implying?

  ‘Nothing,’ he said, ‘nothing at all.’

  ‘I’m very good at my job.’

  ‘I don’t doubt it, Alva.’

  He turned then and walked away. She turned to say something to her companion but she had gone. Alva was standing alone. Turning, she walked away, going to the ladies room. Really, Tony Laker took too much on himself.

  Ah, she stirred in bed — that was his name. The man who was her boss, the politician who had done something wrong. Tony Laker. A rather squat, arrogant man. She could see him now. But for all his faults, and he had many, the job had been good. She had liked it, the travelling, and the excitement of being around important people. How shallow she had to have been, she thought, but no, she was young but she was not that impressionable. She had quickly learned that many of those important people had feet of clay. But not the conte. No, never Conte Mazareeze. He was just perfect.

  If he had not been so stunning she knew she would have laughed off what he had said.

  It angered her because of the way he made her feel, not because of what he had said. She had heard worse many times before.

  A knock on the door disturbed her thoughts and to her ‘Come’, it opened to reveal Claudia and a younger girl. The younger girl carried a tray of food. Soft rolls, a pot of coffee.

  ‘Contessa, the conte asked me to bring you breakfast at this time. Are you ready, Contessa?’

  ‘Yes, thank you, Claudia.’

  Glad that she had slipped into her robe, she sat up in bed to accept the tray.

  ‘There is word from the conte too; he says he will meet you at noon, at the port. You will kindly take yourself there; the car is parked outside the door. You will need a small overnight bag. Shall I pack it for you?’

  ‘An overnight bag? I don’t suppose the conte said where we are going.’

  ‘No, Contessa, but to the mainland. I know because you are to mee
t the boat at the jetty. He sent word; I did not see the conte himself.’

  ‘Fine,’ and then to herself, she murmured, but why the overnight bag?

  It was intriguing. What should she pack? Red satin, perhaps? She smiled happily to herself.

  There was a lightness about her — she felt like running, dancing singing … Luca … Luca was in her heart, now she remembered how she felt about him, how he made her feel.

  Yet there had been times when … but what was it? Why was there a cloud now skimming across her heart … what had he done to her that made that shiver come?

  ‘Go away sadness,’ she murmured. ‘I need to be happy; when I am happy I remember things … ’

  She dressed in smart casuals, beautifully cut navy trousers and a dark mustard coloured cashmere sweater. There was a blazer on a hanger and she took that, slipping into it. Nautical but smart, she thought, before slipping into a pair of flat navy shoes. In the overnight bag she packed her nightdress, bag of toiletries and, on top, wrapped in tissue, a smart dress for evening wear. That and clean lingerie were really all she needed.

  I pack well, she thought, I am used to it. It came as a surprise that little statement and for a moment she sat on the bed and explored it. She had accompanied Tony to Europe on many occasions. Sometimes she had gone ahead. There were times when she packed for him too. His wife preferred to live in the country and Tony lived alone in London. Was that living alone in the city the thing that brought about the end of his career? Perhaps it was something even more damaging. Tony, she recalled, had made a lot of enemies. Yet he was not a bad man, just arrogant at times. However, he did very well by his constituents. That she knew. It was why she had put up with him.

  Sitting in the little Fiat, she hesitated. This would be her first time driving since she had arrived. Did she even know the way? Of course, down the drive, turn left, go through the village and right across the square, up the hill and down the other side, there, barely fifteen minutes away was the actual port. There was the harbour, with the shops and cafes circling the bay. They would be quiet this time of year but in the summer it was a hive of industry.

  Turning the ignition, she fired up the little car, pushed it into gear and set off smoothly down the drive. The huge gates were thrown back — unusual that, for they were usually closed. It would be Luca, he would have asked Guido to leave them open for her. Parking on the road, she went back and pulled the huge gates to.

  The launch was tied up by the quay and after sliding the Fiat into a parking space she walked eagerly across. Hoping it was not Antonio taking them, she felt relief when she saw that it was someone else. Someone she did not know. He was a man who was not very tall but thickset and looked as if he enjoyed working out with weights.

  ‘Contessa,’ he said, politely inclining his head and offering his hand to assist her on board.

  She managed to embark elegantly, although the boat gave a little lurch and she soon heard the engine throbbing away. The gangplank was up and the boat was moving out into the bay before she asked, ‘Where is the Conte?’

  *

  ‘I am sorry that you feel that way,’ Rosa said. She held her features in check but could feel her lips tremble with inner fury. ‘I thought that would never happen. You gave me assurance it would not happen.’

  ‘Did I?’ Luca asked.

  ‘After what she did, you said you could never forgive her.’

  ‘Did I ever say those actual words?’

  Rosa shrugged. He was no fool. ‘Not exactly.’

  ‘Like Renata and my brother and his wife, you assumed. The truth was I could not forgive myself for not seeing how bad she was feeling. I ignored all the signs.’

  Rosa stared at him and wondered how she had ever believed that she had him in her fist. He had taken her out to dinner parties, he had invited her to be his hostess and on two occasions she had travelled with him, but he had never touched her passionately. He maintained their friendship and their business ties but never had he allowed himself to be her lover. A kiss more friendly than emotional and that was it. Yet she had persevered, believing that in the end she would win what she had long desired. Luca, of course, but more importantly, the name he could give to her … Contessa, the power, and now the money as well — that would be pleasurable too, and would enable her to end her business adventure. That was becoming far too precarious and threatening. Her fellow travellers in business would also not be delighted by this turn of events. Alva was not a woman who would let things go; she was a curious little cat and was not afraid to voice what she felt. However, now it seemed that not only was she back but she was once more working her magic over the conte. Rosa had been sure she would succeed with him. They would not be best pleased when they found out she had failed.

  ‘I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong idea, Rosa. We have been friends a long time and I would not — ’

  She put her hand up and smiled. ‘No need to say it, Luca. I understand. But are you not just a little afraid that she — ’

  He cut off her words brutally, his anger clear as he barked, ‘Do not dare to judge her or to interfere with me, Rosa. We are friends, but only up to a point. I will not have you making these dangerous suggestions.’

  Crossing to him, she linked an arm through his. ‘Luca, forgive me. I was presumptuous.’ There was something so cold and cruel about him in that moment that she felt a shiver run along the length of her spine. Luca had always hated to be contradicted about anything — and his relationship with the Englishwoman in particular. ‘But we can still have lunch, it is all arranged, that will be not be too onerous for you?’

  ‘Of course not, Rosa. I just wanted to — as the English are fond of saying — lay my cards on the table. Let you know that there is a strong possibility that Alva may be staying.’

  She murmured, ‘And Renata?’

  He inclined his head, giving the broad hint that he would not discuss his daughter with her. Fool! He did not realize that the moment he had gone she would be on the telephone to someone who could stir the girl up to make trouble and that the lonely girl had been groomed to take a specific stand.

  The telephone rang out, just as they were sitting down on the loggia for lunch. Excusing herself, Rosa went and answered it.

  Alone, Luca mused over matters, he had told Rosa that he would no longer be seeing her as he used to. He wanted to spend more time with his wife, but as yet he had not said anything to his wife. Perhaps she would not like the idea of staying with him? Yet he would try. Divorce was not something that he relished anyway and he and Alva, they shared so much. Even should her memory not return he felt certain they could recapture some of what had been before. As to the rest, that could be sorted out. She was still in love with him, he was certain. He smiled, oh yes, he was certain of that.

  When Rosa came back her colour was heightened. Her eyes sparkling, as if she were excited about something.

  ‘Is everything all right?’ Luca asked.

  ‘Of course, everything is wonderful, Luca. For you at least … but my dear, will you require to renegotiate my lease? That was my lawyer on the telephone; he reminded me that my lease is up next April. It is not too far away.’

  ‘There is nothing to renegotiate, Rosa, I am happy with the terms you have now, if you are?’

  ‘Oh yes, of course,’ she smiled at him. ‘When I first came here Renata was a baby and you had Silvia. I remember when I came to the island and thought I had found paradise. I never realized that I would be living here for a good part of the year.’

  ‘We’ve been friends a long time, Rosa, and I hope we will continue with that friendship. I appreciate how wonderful you have been to Renata, especially after her mother died. Losing her mother at such a tender age would have been traumatic for any girl but the circumstances … ’ He shuddered. ‘Her being there, in the car … ’

  ‘I know how bad it was, Luca. I tried to be a kindly aunt to her. At such times a girl needs a woman’s hand to hold. But you were wonderful
too, Luca, suppressing your own pain to deal with Renata’s.’

  Luca looked away from her — she noted it through narrow eyes. Ah yes, she knew what he had felt when his wife had died and that he still felt a little guilty about it!

  ‘But let us toast to our friendship, Luca, long may we share it.’

  Later, in Rosa’s beautifully appointed sitting-room, he surreptitiously glanced at his watch. Alva would wonder where he was. He had left a note on the table in the sunroom but he had said he would be home by four. Now it was past that hour, night was drawing in fast.

  Rosa’s rented villa was on the other, less populated part of the island. It stood high on a cliff overlooking the bay. It was perfect with splendid views; in fact, he realized wryly, nicer views than those at the palazzo.

  The villa had been built by his grandfather — ostensibly to house his mistress — ironic that he then should rent it to a woman he had been tempted to have occupy that position in his life. Even odder that he had not done anything about it — but he could not analyse why that was so. He preferred to keep his reasons buried. It was safer that way.

  It was dark as he drove back to the palazzo. There were no lights on the twisting road and he had his foot on the brake for most of the journey. This was where his first wife had driven off the road. He shuddered still when he thought of it. Beautiful and wilful Silvia, the woman he had married because it was expected of him. He had been nineteen at the time. At that age in his society you did not argue with your father. Although they too had had an attraction at some time, the marriage had not been happy or unhappy; it had been a marriage where both followed their lives. Silvia had been a talented artist and he had never objected to her pursuing her career. Renata was lucky to be alive, for the car had bounced down that steep tree-covered hillside like a toy car. How Renata had lived he would never know.

  Once down from the hills, he speeded along the coast road, only slowing to go around the square, but once he hit the road to his home, he put on some speed. He was eager to see her, to talk to her …

  Inside the palazzo it was very quiet. The light illuminated the large hall; he went across it and down the passageway that led to the sunroom. There were no lights on, he turned on a light. His note had gone.