Shadows of the Past

by Blake, Margaret

  ‘It will all come back one day, I’m sure of it. But aren’t you glad of those cold swims? It’s certainly made you tough.’

  ‘Yes, you’re right. I guess that education I had has made me what I am. I won’t let anyone get me down. Well — ’ She felt her eyes glaze over with unshed tears and, turning away, she chewed her lip for a moment. Something had once pushed her down into darkness, so far down that she had ended up in a psychiatric unit. Luca might dress it up as a private clinic, but that was what it was. But not any more. She unselfconsciously pushed back her shoulders and jerked up her chin. Whatever happened she would do battle with it, even if it broke her heart.

  Sipping her coffee she felt oddly refreshed. Not just from the swim but from the company of this other woman. Maryanne was a new friend but a person that she felt she had known all her life. Incredible but it was there inside her, a feeling that this was a friendship that would be for keeps. Maryanne was someone with whom she could reveal all her uncertainties and with whom she could share the passing of Alessandro.

  Later she took a long leisurely bath before dinner. She pinned up her hair and allowed herself the luxury of just lying in warm scented water. When she had finished there were warm fluffy towels to dry herself on, and with a huge bath towel wrapped around her she went to her wardrobe to look for something to wear.

  A dark-green velvet pantsuit caught her eye and she selected that. The fitted jacket, with a mandarin collar, skimmed her body perfectly as did the pants. It was obviously an outfit she had when she had previously lived here.

  Once dressed, she flicked a brush through her hair and was only slightly startled when she heard the door open. Through the mirror she saw the reflection of her husband.

  He had been riding around the island with Curtis who was a keen horseman. Obviously it had done him the power of good, for he looked brighter than she had seen him looking for some time. In a white silk shirt and dark jacket and trousers he looked relaxed.

  ‘I love that,’ he nodded to the suit. ‘It is a perfect match for your eyes.’

  ‘Is it? I hadn’t thought.’

  ‘Of course you hadn’t.’

  Alva looked for sarcasm but there was none there. He meant it kindly.

  ‘You have no vanity, Alva, which is what I liked about you.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she murmured.

  ‘What did you do today?’ he asked, going to sit on the ottoman.

  She went through her day; he visibly shivered when she told him about their swim. ‘It was fun — and I remembered about school, how they never heated the pool!’

  ‘Good. You never told me that, or if you did I don’t remember. I am sure being Italian I would remember your telling me about swimming in icy waters.’

  ‘You don’t think I am imagining it do you?’ she asked anxiously.

  ‘Of course not. It was not so important that you would share that with me. So, you enjoyed your day with Maryanne?’

  For a moment she hesitated before answering, smoothing a finger over her eyebrow. Not wanting to sound foolish about how important this friendship seemed to be. Yet it was difficult to keep things from Luca. He had that way with him that drew things out of her. He had always had it, that warmth and charm that made confession easy.

  ‘I like her very much. It’s just as if I have found a true friend.’

  ‘Good. Friendship is important. You had a lot of friends, Alva. But,’ he hesitated wondering whether to go on. ‘Your Christmas card list is huge … most of your girlfriends had married and had children by the time we met. They lived in different places, different countries even. There was a girl that you were close to. Chloe … ’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘You used to say that Chloe was your soulmate.’

  ‘Really?’ she asked again with more emphasis.

  ‘She died. Cancer. We were going out together at the time and you were heartbroken.’

  ‘Oh my God.’ She sank on to the ottoman beside him. ‘And I can’t even remember Chloe.’

  ‘You were at school together. She was a tiny girl, a will of a wisp you called her. She had lovely dark curls and laughing blue eyes. She lost her hair with the treatment … I remember your crying about that. Crying not for yourself but because it had upset her.’

  ‘I wish I could remember. How could I forget someone that I loved?’

  Luca took up her hand, turning it over he very gently kissed the palm. ‘You forgot me too, so do not distress yourself about it. One day it will all come back to you.’

  ‘Perhaps I don’t want it all back, Luca; there have to be things that are best not remembered.’

  ‘You have nothing in your past to be ashamed about. I am certain of that, Alva.’

  ‘Except — ’ she caught the words, pulling them back. She had wanted to say what you believe I did to our child, but she would not go there with him. One day she might remember and have evidence to prove that she had not done anything wrong. Just one day it might all be revealed and then … then it would be over. His pain and his suffering would be burned away. He still felt guilty, believing that he had not done enough to support her through her terrible time. Yet instinctively she knew it was not his fault, and nor was it hers, there was something there and one day it would all come out.

  ‘Luca, since I’ve been back from the hospital you haven’t … I mean,’ she felt her cheeks scorch; her hand, as she glanced at it, looked so small trapped in his. ‘I need you, Luca; I need you to come to me … ’

  He bent his head, capturing her ear in his mouth, very gently. It felt no more than the heartbeat of a butterfly but was nonetheless devastating.

  ‘Then I will come, Alva. I did not know if you were well enough … I thought you needed lots of rest.’

  ‘I do.’ Gathering her courage to her, chasing away the dark shadows deep inside her, she smiled up at him. ‘But, Luca, there is rest and there is rest.’

  *

  Alva awakened from a disturbed sleep. The silk sheets were wrapped around her body in a mummy-like hold. Gasping she fought herself free, and then found herself breathless.

  What had happened? Where was she? It was still fairly dark but a chink of light crept in through the partly opened shutter.

  She was alone. Of course! Luca was away. He had had to go to the mainland on business and chose to travel there with Maryanne and Curtis Trevor. He would be gone for three days, he had said … while there he intended to take the opportunity to visit Renata in Rome.

  It was too soon for her to see her stepdaughter. He had not asked her to accompany him and she had not tried to persuade him to let her do so. She was not afraid of being alone here, anyway, not with the strong and silent Carlo to look after her. However, there was something that had frightened her. Was it a dream? She struggled to a sitting position, pummelling the pillow and then leaning back, closing her eyes, searching her mind.

  Something ominous and dark had wrapped itself around her heart. It was more than a lump of fear, it was even worse than depression. There was something lodged in her mind, but it was buried, yet during her restless night, it had come to her … in her sleep. No, it was not a dream … it was a memory.

  Determinedly, she ticked off things in her mind. Was it to do with Tony her old boss … or was it a memory that she had shared with Chloe? She had been trying too hard to remember her friend, the girl with whom Luca said she had shared so much. However, Chloe was not there, not even a visual image of her friend came into her mind. It was not Chloe; anyway, it was hardly likely that if she remembered anything about Chloe it would frighten her. Sadness maybe but not fear, for Chloe had never brought harm to her, Alva was certain of that.

  An image came to her now, beating against her closed lids. It was dark; there were long shadows of a summer night. Stillness, not a breath of wind, sultry heat. Luca was there. He was crossing the garden stealthily. It was obvious he did not want to be seen by anyone and he was coming from the shabby buildings close to the indoor pool. Sh
e was there, hiding, watching, her heart throbbing against the wall of her chest, waves of heat streaming against her skin. She felt terribly weak, almost as if she would faint. Something was going on in the building, something wrong. Fear and terror choked the breath from her. Luca was involved … but in what?

  Exhausted, Alva slid down into the bed, wrapping the coverlet about her. It was a dream but if it was, why did it seem to be so real?

  Later coaxing herself from bed, she showered and changed into fleecy sweat pants and matching hoodie. The maid had brought her coffee and warm rolls, she drank the coffee and picked at the roll but she was anxious to be outside.

  There was no one around, the house seemed so silent but not ominously so. The clock in the hallway told her it was only ten o’clock, the servants were probably having their morning break. As if to prove her assumption, a tinkle of laughter drifted up from the kitchen. Once outside she walked swiftly to the disused buildings adjacent to the swimming pool.

  At her touch the door swung open. The day outside was gloomy so there was not much light inside. The window frames were grey with dust. Brushing her hand along the wall she sought for the light switch and on finding it, clicked it on. The light flickered as if the bulb were about to go out, then it settled.

  It was grim inside. The once beautiful tiles were chipped and grubby, scuffed with a hundred or more shoeprints. There was soil here and there. A sack of something or other had been chewed by vermin and spilled something on to the floor. Touching it she realized it was merely fertilizer and nothing sinister. In each and every comer, huge spiders’ webs hung, rather beautiful in the light, thin and delicately spun but empty of any captive.

  Moving deeper into the room she saw there were three doors on the far side. Crossing to them she opened the first, it led down to a flight of stairs but it was dark, and a smell of rot and damp wafted up. The switch when she clicked it, did not light the bulb that precariously hung from a beam only slightly above her head. The stairs were stone and quite steep. There was no way she was going there to explore.

  The other doors led only into storerooms, empty of anything but dust and an air of decay. Cold shivers ran down her spine and she backed away. She had to get out, she felt unable to breath, her throat had become constricted, it had to be the dust — she coughed but it brought no relief. Turning she collided with something solid; she stepped back, gasping, her back slamming into the rim of the door. She almost lost her balance and toppled down into the dark flight of stairs. A strong hand clasped her wrist.

  ‘Contessa, are you all right?’

  Weakly she looked up at last. It was Carlo.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked, trying to sound imperious.

  ‘I saw you come here. Forgive me, Contessa, but I knew about the stairs and I was worried for you.’

  The stairs. He mentioned the stairs particularly. Did he know of her past, had Luca told him that she had been almost insane and had tried to kill herself by throwing herself down the stairs? If he had she felt she would never forgive him. It was a lie and even if he believed it to be true, it was between them and not anyone else.

  But of course, everyone that worked in the house had to know what had happened. The servants would be bound to gossip; it was probably a way of life to them. Yet it was maddening nonetheless.

  However, in as calm a voice as possible she said. ‘I cannot see why that would worry you.’

  ‘When I first came and inspected this place, Contessa, there was no light bulb. I was not certain that someone had come and put a new one in. I thought you could have had an accident if you explored in the dark.’

  ‘Believe me, Carlo, if there had been no light I would not have even crossed the room. I’m scared of rats!’

  ‘There are rats but Antonio put down some poison. However, you can never be sure that they will take it.’

  ‘God!’ She looked up at him. ‘Let’s get out of here. Have you been down the cellar?’

  ‘Yes, but not to the end … ’

  ‘What do you mean — not to the end?’

  ‘There is a narrow passageway. I am not sure where it leads. I wanted to explore myself but I hadn’t a powerful torch. Do you want me to see where it leads?’

  ‘No, that’s not necessary; I can ask my husband when he comes back.’

  They went back across the garden. They crossed to the loggia and when she came to the doors to the sunroom, she said she would go in there. Perhaps in the afternoon she would go out riding, she would let him know.

  ‘Of course, Contessa. I am at your service.’

  He bowed his head and departed silently. He was strange and yet he exuded something that gave her a little confidence in him. Perhaps it was that which made it important that he did not know of what she had previously been accused.

  She rang for coffee and it was the happy smiling Claudia who came and brought it.

  ‘Claudia, I was in the storerooms next to the indoor pool. There was a door and a flight of stairs that leads to a cellar, but there is a passage as well. Does that passage come into the house?’

  Claudia laughed. ‘Oh no, Contessa, it leads to the shore. You know the fort of course — you will come out there. You must have forgotten, Contessa, that the conte’s ancestors were pirates and villains!’

  Alva put a hand up over her mouth — of course, she recalled someone telling her that.

  ‘So they used that for bringing in contraband of some kind?’

  ‘Sí, Contessa. But many, many years ago, long before the conte was born! But in the war, the last war, of course, it was used sometimes by the partisans. But they were good, you understand, Contessa?’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure they were. Thank you, Claudia, I had forgotten all about it.’

  Claudia looked serious at once. ‘But you will not go and use it, Contessa, it is dangerous. The conte said it must never be used as it is so dangerous. It could collapse, it is so old. He has forbidden everyone to go there.’

  ‘Goodness, Claudia, I would never go down there. Heavens, I don’t like confined spaces underground. I could never be a miner!’

  ‘Good, but I know how adventurous the contessa is.’

  ‘Not when it comes to dark passages that go underground, Claudia. I do promise you that.’

  Later, she did go riding and requested that Carlo would accompany her. She was a little uneasy about going out alone and besides she knew that Carlo would attempt to follow her, and she preferred him where she could see him.

  On the ride she told him about the cellar and the passageway and when they reached the shore, they raced their horses towards the tower.

  ‘I remember being out here on my own. I saw the tower and the stairs that led down. It made me uneasy but I could not remember why. I still can’t, but perhaps it was because I knew about its rather shady past. I am quite imaginative and perhaps I had pictured all kinds of evil deeds going on down there.’

  ‘I should think it was just a way to store contraband, Contessa.’

  ‘But you never know. Pirates were not the kindest of souls,’ she smiled up at him.

  ‘You could be right then. Still, it’s good it makes you feel uneasy, that way you won’t be tempted to go and explore the passageway.’

  ‘Not now that Claudia has told me about it. And you shouldn’t go down there either; she says it’s not safe.’

  ‘Very well, Contessa, I will not explore it. At least not until the conte is back.’

  ‘I’ll race you to the headland,’ she said, turning her horse. It was wonderful and exhilarating to be out and free, galloping through the wavelets, feeling the wind on her face, its fingers tugging through her hair — it made her feel glad to be alive once more. It was this that she needed, this feeling of normality.

  It was not a fair competition for Carlo let her win. Of course he would do so — she was, after all, the Contessa Mazareeze and he was her bodyguard. He could not know that to her a competition was a competition, no matter who was taking pa
rt. By the time they were riding side by side she felt too happy even to mention it. In fact her whole body glowed with a kind of unrestrained joy that made it completely unnecessary even to speak.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Rosa d’Casta — when the woman announced herself on the phone Alva pondered on what she could possibly want. She remembered the woman as being completely self-centred and practically ignoring Alva at the dinner party. Rosa had sent flowers to the hospital and Alva had written a note of thanks. She rather hoped that that had not been seen by Rosa as a gesture of wishing to strike up a friendship, but when Alva asked politely how Signora d’Casta was, the woman ignored the greeting and launched in, rather hysterically, with the statement that she had to see Alva.

  ‘Believe me it is so important,’ she emphasized.

  ‘Well, what is it about?’ Alva murmured, holding herself back a little.

  ‘I cannot come there,’ Rosa said, ignoring the question. ‘You must come here to my villa, and you must come alone. Do not tell anyone that you are coming here!’

  ‘I’m sorry. Signora but after what I have been through … ’

  ‘If you think that is the end of it you are madder than I thought!’

  Well, hardly an encouraging statement — Alva reeled slightly from it, feeling a film of perspiration break out on her upper lip.

  ‘Listen to me! It is so important. I know that your husband is away. I was very close to his wife, you know, we were friends … I know more than you can imagine and if you want me to help, you will come here and listen to me.’

  ‘Why don’t you come here?’ Alva asked, recovering slightly. If anyone was deranged then she was certain it was the d’Casta woman.

  ‘I cannot, walls have ears — isn’t that what you English say? And believe me at the palazzo that is more so than anywhere. It is a place of secret passages and hidden doors.’

  Well that was true, she supposed. Already Alva had discovered that there was a door behind a wonderfully carved panel in her room. Luca had shown it to her; he had said it was where one of his ancestors visited lady houseguests who had fallen under his spell.