Shadows of the Past

by Blake, Margaret

  ‘Of course … but what happened? I know I’m confused but … ’

  ‘Of course, you have partial recall of things, I think. The psychiatrist warned this might happen that things would not come back, if they ever did, all at once, but in fits and starts. Those were the words he used to me on the telephone, fits and starts — and I will tell you what happened:

  ‘It was a mistake, you were not pregnant, it was just one of those things — you were late, and that was all. I told you there was no longer then any excuse for us not to marry.’

  She gazed up at him, trying to see beyond his words. He saw the light dawn; it came in her eyes, that warm glow.

  ‘Yes, I wanted to marry you not for any reason of a child or because it was the thing to do. Oh, Alva, I wanted to be with you all the time. I wanted you to be my contessa and not my mistress.’

  ‘Gosh,’ she put a hand up to her forehead, pushing back the silvery fringe of hair. ‘Then I was here longer than … than months.’

  ‘Of course. You were here a little over two years.’

  ‘I see.’

  He drew her to him, resting her head against his chest. Her hair smelt of meadow sweet, it always had and against his lips, felt like spun silk.

  ‘You must really think me stupid.’

  ‘Alva, of course I don’t. You can’t help your memory loss. But if things come back to you I want you to promise to come to me right away, find me, call me, it is important that you don’t go down the wrong path.’

  ‘I promise and today something else came to me … ’

  She told him what she had remembered of summer holidays in Chianti with Chloe’s parents. How they had always had the most perfect time. She even remembered the name of the lady who had first taught her Italian. Maria Granelli. ‘I remember how her name sounded like music … ’

  ‘There, little bits come and stay and more will come, I am sure of it … He bent his head and captured her ear, kissing it gently. She whispered a sigh of pleasure. Lifting her head, she slid fully on to his knee, wrapping herself around him, seeking out his mouth.

  He thought of the day ahead, of the appointments he had. The people he had to see, the problems that needed sorting out. He said to her. ‘To the devil with the day … ’

  CHAPTER NINE

  Christmas came and went quietly. Alva had ordered a tree and dressed it. She made arrangements for the Christmas lunch and bought gifts for the servants and for Renata.

  Renata moved like a girl in a trance through most of it, saying little and spending a lot of time alone but she was never unpleasant any more. Her quietness was worrying; it was as if she was now nursing all her problems to herself. She refused resolutely to be coaxed into sharing her thoughts. She had had two sessions with a psychiatrist and had more booked. She admitted that it helped but said nothing else. However, she ate, although sparingly, so she obviously was not starving herself.

  Trusting Claudia, Alva had instructed only her to clean Renata’s room. She would report anything that looked bloodied to her. Alva knew that once trusted, Claudia would not betray that trust by telling the other servants about Renata’s cutting herself.

  Claudia had reported that everything was quite normal and she did, when certain that the girl was away from her room, give it a thorough search.

  Alva explained. Claudia assured her that she understood only too well.

  New Year swept in quietly. No guests came to stay but Renata joined them for dinner on New Year’s Eve and even went to Midnight Mass in the village. It was a crisp, star-filled evening and they stood in the square listening to the bells sing in the New Year. Alva hoped they were chiming in better things.

  *

  When Luca said he had to go away for more than a couple of days Alva felt miserable. He did not ask her to accompany him and she thought she knew why. He wanted her to keep an eye on Renata. It was Alva and Carlo who went with the girl to the psychiatrist and brought her back. Renata had regained enough spirit to declare she would not go and be an in-patient anywhere and would not listen to reason on the matter. It had been a surprise to learn that the request for Alva to go with her had come from Renata. For some reason she did not want her father involved with her treatment and refused even to talk to him about it.

  ‘I think she might be a little ashamed, as if she should be!’ Luca said. ‘I wish she would realize that I blame her for nothing.’

  ‘She’s a little unstable at the moment, Luca, you can’t expect rational behaviour, but I admit it seems odd that she wants me of all people to accompany her.’

  He looked at her for a long moment, as if pondering whether to say anything or not. Instead of persuading him to speak, Alva went and sat in the armchair, looping her fingers together nervously, feeling inside her a terrible tension and not knowing the reason why.

  ‘She sees you as someone who has been there, Alva.’

  ‘But I never — ’ She stopped and recognized the reason she felt tense. Of course, her supposed suicide attempt. That would continue to raise its ugly little head until she remembered the truth of what happened. However, the momentary anger evaporated. How could she blame Luca for believing that when he had so-called evidence of what she had done? She had no memory so how could she explain it away. Besides, if it meant that Renata thought she had an ally so much the better. At least Alva felt she could be useful on some level.

  Yet when Luca left she brooded through the long night, barely sleeping, tormented by the fact that he still, after their coming together so blissfully, believed that she would be so wicked as to try to take her own, as well as their baby’s life. All the excuses in the world did not take the bitter taste from her.

  She felt weary the next day, yet when Renata came to breakfast her stepdaughter was oddly bouncy. Was it her? Was the lassitude she felt making her see things about Renata that had not been apparent to her before? Perhaps she was just run down and by comparison Renata seemed to be lively.

  Later in the day she knew that was not the case. Renata was showing all the signs of being on a mental high. Talking and moving about restlessly, making plans, only to discard them within half an hour. She would go back to university — she would not. She would stay here and help her father manage things. She had a talent for managing. Perhaps she would take a business course — but that would be boring, wouldn’t it?

  Tired as she was, Alva watched her stepdaughter carefully. Renata said she would take the launch to the mainland to do some shopping and that Alva, who looked really ill, need not bother to come with her. Antonio would take her in the boat and bring her back. Antonio was good company — surely Alva remembered that! Alva could not remember anything about Antonio in the past but what she did know was that he had lied about her, that he was not good company and that she did not like him one little bit. However, she said none of these things to Renata, if Renata was feeling cheerful enough to go shopping then Alva was happy for her.

  Yet the feeling persisted after the girl had gone that Renata was a little too cheerful. It was way out of character. Going to the computer she checked up on the symptoms of the medication she knew Alva to be on. There was nothing about the chemicals giving the user a high. In fact they were a very mild anti-depressant.

  Worried and uncertain, Alva put in a call to Renata’s psychiatrist. He was friendly and humorous. He had a good rapport with Alva but whether he would talk about Renata she was unsure. He came on the line and was as cheerful and charming as ever. His first question, although she was not strictly his patient, was how was she doing and had she remembered anything? She told him, as she liked him, about her confused dream. Her really believing that they had had to get married because she was pregnant, when that was not the case. ‘Well, it was nearly right, Alva. Your case fascinates me, you know, I wonder if you would like to try hypnosis sometime.’

  ‘Tried it, it didn’t work.’

  ‘Well, maybe now when there are openings in your mind. Anyway, think about it and let me know. Now I i
magine you want to talk about Renata?’

  ‘I feel mean doing this, Dottore, but Renata seems suddenly so cheerful. Almost as if she is going through a little high, you know what I mean?’

  What a stupid question, she thought, if anyone knew about highs and lows it had to be a psychiatrist.

  ‘Do you think she has nothing to be happy about? Or that perhaps she is getting better?’

  ‘It’s come all at once. Yesterday she hardly spoke to anyone, today she is going to change the world — slight exaggeration but you know what I mean.’

  ‘Sounds a little strange. I tell you what, Alva, tell her I called to change her appointment. Can you bring her in tomorrow?’

  ‘She might hit the roof, but I’ll try. Thank you, Dottore.’

  When Renata arrived home she was carrying four bags of shopping and Antonio was following her with some more bags. Alva came across them in the hall and they were laughing conspiratorially, so much so that Alva suspected that Renata was slightly drunk.

  ‘Renata, you look as though you’ve had a good time.’ Alva kept her voice level, managing a smile and a brisk manner.

  ‘We had a fantastic time!’

  ‘We? Did you meet some friends?’

  ‘Er … of course, what else?’ Renata dropped her bags in the hall and told Antonio to do the same. ‘The servants will bring them to my room later.’

  Then she turned and skipped off into the drawing-room. Alva looked across at Antonio. He was putting the bags neatly together at the side of the hall, anticipating that someone could fall over them if they were left where Renata dropped them.

  ‘And the signorina met friends where?’ she asked him.

  He shrugged with that faint arrogance he had. ‘No idea,’ he murmured. Then inclining his head and muttering, ‘Contessa,’ he turned to go away.

  ‘Where did she go, where did you leave her?’

  ‘At the port, Contessa, and really if you want to know I would suggest you ask Renata,’ he said smoothly.

  ‘Signorina Mazareeze, I think you mean.’

  The man whispered something under his breath. Alva knew that if he were English it would have been ‘whatever’ — it had that touch of insolence about it.

  ‘That will be all, Antonio,’ she said coldly, answering his stare with one of her own. She waited in the hall until he had turned and gone out through the front door. Pouring invectives on his head in her mind, she went in search of someone to see to Renata’s bags before seeking out the girl herself.

  *

  ‘What did you buy?’ Alva asked pleasantly.

  ‘Clothes — lingerie, girl’s stuff — why, you want to look in my bags?’ Renata was back to her impudent self. It was in the way she stood, the arrogant way she tossed her dark hair.

  ‘Of course not, I just wondered. Who did you meet?’

  ‘It’s none of your business who I go to meet, Alva. Please don’t overstep the mark. I’m almost nineteen not twelve!’

  ‘I was just curious, Renata. Have your little secrets if you want. The main thing is that you had a good time.’

  Renata pulled a face rudely, and then, thinking better of it, said. ‘I did enjoy myself, it was great.’

  Alva thought it was probably not the right time to tell her about the psychiatrist but she went ahead anyway. Surprisingly, Renata accepted that the dottore had changed his appointment and did not even question it.

  ‘It’s OK, we can do that. I think I might wear one of my new outfits. Red — scarlet — trousers and top.’

  ‘That sounds nice and cheerful. I love red for winter.’

  ‘Yes — perhaps I’ll wear a white scarf and then I will look like a leftover from Christmas.’

  ‘I think you’ll look fine. Did you eat?’

  ‘Yes, I won’t want dinner. I think I’ll go to my room. Have one of the servants bring up my stuff and have someone call me in the morning. Ciao, Alva.’

  Alva hesitated, debating whether she should try to persuade Renata to stay with her a little while. Thinking it would be kinder to try to talk to her she suggested it, but Renata shook her head.

  ‘No, really, I have things I want to do. My clothes, I want to try them on and put them away. Besides, there’s an interesting programme on the television I want to watch.’

  ‘OK, if you’re sure. Would you like me to send up a tray — tea perhaps.’

  ‘Alva, do stop fussing. I’m not a child, if I want anything I can ring down for it.’

  ‘Of course you can, I just thought — ’

  ‘What did you think, Alva, that you would mother me? Heaven forbid I’d have you for a mother!’

  ‘Well, thank you for that, Renata. I wasn’t actually seeing myself as your mother. I was seeing myself as a friend.’

  Alva hurt inside. The little arrows that Renata managed to fire in her direction always managed to penetrate the veneer she put up. It was as if the girl knew that underneath her outward appearance, Alva was vulnerable and still raw from her recent experiences.

  ‘Hah,’ Renata said, dismissing Alva with a wave of her hand. ‘Don’t be that either. It is enough that you are my father’s wife. We don’t have to be friends.’

  So, not even when I was the one you came to with your problems. That faced your father for you. Things had not changed; Renata would never like her — or was that strictly true? Were these mood fluctuations that Renata so clearly displayed the effects of her own trauma?

  ‘All right, Renata, have a nice night.’

  Alva turned away. She went towards the French doors — a walk in the cool air would do her good.

  ‘I don’t mean it,’ Renata said. ‘I just can’t stop it.’

  Alva turned to look at Renata; the girl’s face was full of confusion. ‘Are you all right?’

  Now she looked angry, as if the words had slipped out and she wanted to recall them.

  ‘Yes, take no notice of me.’ Renata swung herself around, almost staggering out of the room. She slammed the door behind her, and the echo of it reverberated all around the house.

  It is her psychological state, Alva thought, although not certain she should be relieved. She vowed to have a word with the psychiatrist on that too. These mood swings were getting out of hand.

  Later going to her own room to bathe before dinner, the sound of loud music drifted along the passage from Renata’s room. The thud of the bass thrust out through the door at full volume. Hesitating for a second, Alva decided not to go and ask her to turn it down. Once in her own room she knew she would barely hear it, yet it seemed worrisome that Renata needed the music so loud, it had to be bad for her hearing. I am getting to be an old fuddy-duddy, Alva thought, climbing into her bathtub, to worry about things like that. It’s what youngsters do and I was probably just as bad … if I could remember I would know it.

  *

  Claudia said, ‘The signorina is not in her room, Contessa. Her bed is unmade, of course, and her bathroom has been used, but she is not there. I cannot think where she is.’

  Alva checked her watch. It was ten-thirty and she had told Renata that they would leave at eleven. ‘She must have gone for a walk, Claudia; I’ll go to see if I can find her.’

  Outside it was a bright sunny day. There was a sliver of warmth in the sun too and it made Alva hesitate. She paused to raise her face to the sun’s rays and thought of what was before them. Warm, gentle spring days. She loved the spring in Italy, the flowers, the birds, the scent of jasmine carried on mild, soft winds. Glorious. Yes, she did remember those days and the memory filled her with pleasure.

  She set off briskly. First she went to the stables; the boys were working but they had not seen the signorina. She walked around the pool, looking for signs of someone having used the pool, although it was highly unlikely that Renata would have used it. Her stepdaughter had told Alva that she thought she was mad for swimming out of doors in winter, even if the pool was heated.

  Crossing the yard, she hesitated a moment before opening the d
oors to the storage rooms adjacent to the indoor pool. There was some stuff in there that had not been there before. Black bin bags neatly folded. Assuming it was garden waste, she closed the door, going to the old pool house. That was empty. She called, knowing it was fruitless. There was no reason for Renata to be in there.

  Wandering through the gardens, she passed the two gardeners clearing away some pruned roses and shrubs. To her question, they too said they had not seen the signorina.

  The one place she had not been to was the summerhouse. It was the place Alva often went to, not to go into the summerhouse but to put flowers on the grave of Alessandro, or sometimes just to sit and wonder what had happened that had robbed him of his life, before it had had a chance to begin.

  Although Renata never spoke of Alessandro, she had thrown out dark hints about what Alva had done, but that was not to say she would not visit the little grave. Alessandro was after all, her half-brother and the girl, troubled as she was, might have deeper feelings than she imagined.

  The doors to the summerhouse were closed. Renata was not sitting on the little wrought iron seat where Alva often sat. Curiously, the shutters at the windows of the summerhouse were drawn. Odd that they would be, Alva thought, for they were always thrown back so that the interior of the little house could gain benefit from sunlight to keep it well aired.

  The handle on the door turned easily and silently, before she pushed open the door she stepped back. She heard a faint deep moaning. Renata, hiding in misery … but it was not a girl’s voice. Renata had a fairly high-pitched tone.

  Thoughts tumbled into her mind, it could be a trick … a trick against her. She needed Carlo with her, she should not … slowly she partly pushed open the door, peering into the opening.

  She felt sickened. As quietly as she opened it she closed the door, turned around and sped into the house. Going directly into the library she slammed the French doors closed, leaning back against them. Her whole body was trembling with disgust and rage and an inexplicable desire to do someone harm. The image came into her mind again, hard and cruel and stirring up the rage until she felt herself slipping out of control. Renata and him … Renata on her knees …