Cast the First Stone: A stunning wartime story

by Angela Arney

  Liana gave up prostitution after Eleanora’s death; her frantic quest for ever more food and money was over now. There was a plentiful supply of food hidden in the castello’s kitchen, enough to last them for a few months if managed carefully. Anything else they needed could be bought on the black market with the American dollars also hidden in the kitchen.

  There were hundreds more dollars hidden away behind the loose stones in the disused shepherd’s hut halfway down the mountain and Eleanora’s jewellery hidden beneath the kitchen floor. But Liana hugged that knowledge to herself. It is an insurance for the future, she thought. I will tell Raul when we need to use it.

  The American dollars were worth their weight in gold, much better than trying to buy with Italian lire. Raul was a quick-witted and skilled negotiator when it came to doing deals. Standing attentively by his side, Liana learned how to haggle, how to be poker-faced, never giving anything away, never, never letting the vendor know that you actually wanted something very badly; instead, feigning indifference, until they became anxious, worrying that perhaps they would not make a sale at all.

  Gradually their life took on a pattern, and slowly Liana’s grief receded into the background. She enjoyed being with Raul. Whenever it was warm enough they sat together in the pavement cafés now beginning to spring up all over Naples and drank acorn coffee, watching as winter slipped away, melted by the warmth of the soft February sun. Spring always came early to the south; the broadbean-seller reappeared, his cry ‘fave fresche’ echoing down the streets, confirming that spring really was just around the corner.

  In the middle of February, Raul went down into Naples alone. Sitting in pavement cafés, holding hands and exchanging the occasional chaste kiss were beginning to pall. It might be enough for Liana, but he wanted more. Somehow he had to find a way, do something to make her want to give herself to him. He came back looking triumphant.

  ‘A present,’ he said, putting the parcel in Liana’s hands with a flourish. He stood back, watching with satisfaction as her beautiful face lit up with childish delight.

  ‘A present. For me?’ Liana could hardly believe it. She tried to remember the last time she’d received a present of her very own, but couldn’t. And now here was Raul giving her, Liana, a gift. She gazed at him, eyes shining. ‘For me?’ she whispered again, breathless with wonder.

  Raul felt his stomach churn, but suppressed the sexual urge tearing at his guts. Not now, he must wait, and if he played his cards right . . . ‘Of course it’s for you,’ he answered softly. ‘There’s no-one else here. It must be for you.’

  At his words Liana began excitedly tearing aside the wrapping paper and quickly extracted the present inside. ‘A pastiera’ she cried, holding it aloft. Then she sniffed at the spring-time cake – a real luxury bought specially for her. ‘Oh, Raul, it’s wonderful. Smell it. It smells of orange blossom and ripe grain.’ She drew in a deep breath, savouring the moment. Her very first present from a man. Suddenly she felt very young and inexperienced and yet at the same time knew what it was to feel like a woman who is cherished. Her very first present. ‘Let’s eat it now,’ she said impulsively, ‘and open that bottle of wine we have in the cupboard. Oh, Raul, where did you manage to get it? No, no, never mind, don’t tell me, just having it is enough.’

  Raul laughed at the flood of words tumbling out in her excitement. He could not have chosen better. For him it was a pleasant moment, leading, he hoped, to more pleasure. He couldn’t even begin to guess at the significance the cake held for Liana. For her it was a moment of magical fragility, a moment she would remember for the rest of her life. Streetwise and cynical where men were concerned, she was totally unprepared for the aching tenderness of the emotions now flooding through her.

  Later, replete and sleepy from too much wine and cake, it seemed the most natural thing in the world for Liana to slide her arms around Raul’s neck and kiss him. She had never kissed a man on the mouth with warmth and love before, nor even thought consciously about it now. But the soft sweetness of her moist lips said more than the words she uttered. ‘Thank you, Raul.’

  For a moment Raul paused, hungry and calculating. Then he made his decision. Now was the right time.

  With an erotic delicacy born of experience, his hands moved slowly down her body, every part of him aware that he had to be careful not to frighten her. Liana responded to his caresses with a sigh of contented submission, parting her lips and kissing him again. Encouraged, Raul began to undress her slowly, kissing her all the time, his mouth moving gradually away from hers down to her nipples and then down over her rib cage to the smooth flatness of her stomach. Finally, when her limbs were sensuously relaxed and she was whispering his name softly, he slid his face down between her thighs and his tongue sought out the spot he’d been longing to touch since he’d first met her. Now he’d make her dissolve with longing. She was already moist, but he waited patiently, tongue probing, circling, nibbling until she screamed in frenzy and her hands grappled with his shoulders, trying to pull him upwards. Then he moved. Hard and controlled, he entered her easily as she spread her legs wide in welcome.

  ‘Now,’ he said. ‘Now.’ Each explosive thrust was tinged with triumph. He possessed her at last.

  *

  Liana lay in a dreamy sated peace, her breathing matching that of Raul’s in an easy, lazy rhythm. She had never been so relaxed, so happy. If there is a paradise, surely this must be it, she thought, this languorous, undemanding harmony of mind and body.

  ‘And to think I thought I could never enjoy making love.’

  Raul laughed easily, and ran his fingers lightly along the exquisite shape of Liana’s high cheek bones. He settled her more comfortably in the crook of his arm, folding her into the curve of his body. She had never looked more beautiful. Making love had given her a unique glow, a shining halo of beautiful sensuality.

  ‘There are many ways of making love, Liana,’ he whispered softly. The needs of his body were growing urgent again; it had been so long since he’d had a woman. He wanted her again and again. ‘Touch me,’ he murmured, ‘and I’ll teach you some more.’

  Shyly, she reached out, running her fingers over the soft mound of flesh in his groin. Then growing bolder she cupped it in her hand, feeling her own excitement rise as it moved and stirred. Raul wanted her again, and suddenly she knew she wanted him. Her huge dark eyes, cloudy now with desire, looked up into his. A shudder of pleasure quivered through Raul as he kissed her slowly. She was better than he had anticipated. He would enjoy teaching her. Lightly running his tongue along the curve of her lips, he provocatively began to draw out the latent sexuality he knew lay beneath her innocence. For as he had found out to his heightened delight, she was innocent, in spite of her prostitution.

  Slowly he led her along the path of sexual exploration, gentle at times, demanding at others, but always giving her pleasure before taking his own. Now she was lying in his arms, her sexuality awakened, and longing for more. As his mouth teased hers, she reached up, pulling his head down hard. He could feel her full breasts, nipples risen and taut rubbing against the mass of hair on his chest. Rotating her hips slowly, she pressed the length of her silken body against his. ‘Show me again, Raul. Love me again.’

  Three weeks passed in a shimmering, erotic haze of love-making. There had been many other women for Raul, and he taught Liana all the ways he knew of heightening the act of sex until it became a sublime physical gratification. Sometimes it was so wonderful that Liana thought she would die from the intensity of her feelings. More than anything she wanted to please him, and often surprised him by taking the initiative and finding new ways to give him pleasure.

  Now she knew what she had been born for. Now there was a purpose to her life. Now, at long last, everything made sense. She was made for Raul, made to love him. Every time she gave him her body it was an act of worship.

  ‘I love you, darling, darling Raul.’ Every morning was the same. She awoke early as the first grey fingers of d
awn inched under the gap of the kitchen door. Rolling on to her side, she drank in every feature of his beloved face, etching it on her memory to be taken out and looked at whenever they were apart. That didn’t happen often, but how she hated those times, no matter how short. Even a few hours was too long, for only when Raul was at her side did she feel truly alive. When he was away half of her withered and died, only to be revived when he returned.

  He stirred sleepily. She reached out, stroking the dark reddish curls of his hair, then running her forefinger down the line of his cheekbone until she reached his mouth.

  Raul bit her finger. ‘Say it again.’

  ‘I love you. I love you.’ Liana needed no second bidding to declare her love.

  ‘I love you, too.’ The words came easily, empty, meaningless. He had said them many times before, exercising his talent for plausible lies.

  He loves me! Liana marvelled at this miracle, nuzzling into him, smiling against his chest. This is my world. This is my fate – to be with Raul for ever and ever. The shimmering fire he has lit in my soul will never go out. I’ll always love him, even if I live to be a hundred. ‘I love you.’ The words were always on her lips.

  Raul’s voice interrupted her ecstatic musings. ‘If you love me as much as you say, why don’t you make me some coffee?’

  Laughing, she bent over him, silky dark hair showering across his face and chest, a shining, living blanket. ‘You know I’ll always do whatever you want.’ She kissed him.

  ‘Anything?’

  ‘Anything, darling.’ Suddenly Liana became serious. ‘I mean it. My life is yours, to do with as you please.’

  Raul pushed her dark hair back so that he could see her face. ‘Supposing I asked you to do something terrible,’ he teased. ‘Supposing I asked you to make a great sacrifice, something you didn’t want to do.’

  ‘I’d do it.’ No hesitation, not even a moment’s thought. How could there be? Loving was giving, loving was needing to be needed. And she loved Raul. ‘I will do anything for you, Raul. Whatever it is you want out of life, I’ll help you get it.’

  Raul laughed, pulling at her hair. ‘And what can you do? You’re only a poor Italian girl!’

  She was about to tell him she had money and jewels hidden away, to tell him she had the means for their escape from poverty when the right time came. But her words were silenced by Raul’s kisses and soon forgotten completely as her body responded with a familiar thrill of weakness to the touch of his strong hands. Oh, yes, she would do anything for Raul. How had she ever lived without him? How could she live without him? The terror and utter bleak desolation of such a prospect was appalling. Her heart almost stopped beating for a moment. Then relief flooded through her. How stupid I am to even think of such a thing. Raul is here, Raul wants me. Now, now! She shuddered as he entered her, loving the feel of his body moving inside hers, slow at first, then gaining momentum, faster and faster until she was lost in a kaleidoscope of oblivion, all thoughts of life without him forgotten.

  *

  ‘Darling, we do need more coffee. You know we do. I won’t be long – two, three hours at most. I’ll be quicker on my own in this weather.’

  A cloud of fear crossed her face. ‘Raul, don’t go. Not today. Leave it until tomorrow.’

  It was 19 March 1944, a momentous day for Naples. Vesuvius was erupting. Raul and Liana stood together beneath the portals of the great gate, watching as the huge bulging mass of steam and ash rose higher and higher into the sky until it obliterated the sun, causing a menacing gloom to daub the landscape in darkening colours. Already a hazy film of ash was falling heavily, covering everything in a soft grey blanket.

  ‘You’re not afraid, are you?’

  ‘No, of course not.’ She was too proud to admit to that. ‘But . . .’ How could she explain the irrational sense of foreboding which was spreading its tentacles through her, draining her of reason? The sensible part of her mind told her she was being stupid and childish, but she tried to stop him. ‘Don’t go, Raul. Not today.’

  He laughed at her, and kissed her teasingly. ‘You worry too much, Liana. This doesn’t mean bad luck. Haven’t you ever heard about reversing superstitions? This is a good omen.’ Impetuously, he scooped up a handful of the fallen ash and scattered it playfully over her. ‘See you soon.’

  Liana stood in silence, wishing she could laugh at his joking, but the feeling of foreboding was even stronger now. This was a bad day, she knew it. Her eyes, following Raul’s lithe figure as he ran down the mountainside, filled with ineffable pain. She watched as he leaped and jumped over boulders; he was so full of life. Where would his irrepressible energy take him? Away from you, said her inner voice.

  The ash was falling even more heavily now. Giant flakes swirled about his figure like a snowstorm. She stayed in the gateway until his tall form became a mere dot, almost indistinguishable from the flakes of ash falling from an ever-darkening sky, then it disappeared altogether.

  Liana turned away then and walked back towards the kitchen, the sound of her lonely footsteps on the cobbles muted by the layer of ash. Behind her lay a trail of scuff marks where she had dragged her feet like a tired old woman.

  Chapter Four

  19 March 1944

  Propelled by his characteristically passionate belief that today would be his lucky day, Raul quickly forgot about Liana and her irrational worries. Not that he had even given them very much attention at the time. Raul was not a long-term worrier. Apart from the occasional irritating pricks of a mostly dormant conscience, the days came and went leaving him untouched by doubts. Every morning he awoke convinced that today must be his day, his own, very special day, the day when his fortunes would change and Lady Luck would tap him on the shoulder.

  When he had teasingly thrown the ash at Liana he had meant what he said. The terrible majesty of the erupting volcano darkening the sky filled him with a sense of awe and power. On such days as this history was made. It heightened his presentiment that today something special would happen.

  Running down the mountain, he flung back his head and whooped with exuberant laughter. ‘What a day,’ he shouted to nothing and everything. ‘What a day!’

  Arriving in Naples he found it seething with people, the atmosphere lively, excited, sometimes apprehensive, but full of gossip. The pavement cafés were thick with faded umbrellas, put up so that the clientele could speculate on the outcome of the eruption in relative comfort whilst drinking Marsala and coffee. Raul loved the bustling, busy ambience. He was in his element. This was his world, the city. He loved the cosmopolitan mixture of people rubbing shoulders with one another and could happily ignore the beggars, dirt and disease. Not for him the stultifying peace of the countryside; he needed the vibrant life of a city, even such a broken, battered city as Naples. He longed for the day when he could pick up the threads of his career again and rejoin the world of theatre and film.

  It was something he had never told Liana. She thought he was happy in the seclusion of the castello, and so he was, for the moment. But not for ever. It could never be for ever. He would die of boredom. As far as Liana was concerned he had been a student in Rome. She had no idea what he had studied, and had never asked. As for his ambitions, Raul kept those to himself. He was beginning to worry that Liana might have fallen in love with him. It would pass, of course. Such emotions always did. They never lasted. Sometimes her smile made him afraid, so absolute and sure was the brightness shining from her eyes. She would find it difficult to let him go, but he knew he could not explain either the compulsion that drew him to the performing arts or the obsessive fear he had of becoming necessary to the life of another human being. Or, much worse, having someone become necessary to him. Anyway, how could he even expect her to begin to understand what he needed from life? In spite of being well versed in the classics, and speaking almost perfect English, she was still an unsophisticated country girl, a girl who had lived all her life halfway up a remote country mountain, and by her own admission, ne
ver been inside a theatre or seen a film.

  Pushing through the crowds, he suddenly stopped, the last remaining thought of Liana driven from his head. He caught his breath in excitement, and opened his eyes wide with glee. Now he knew his premonition of good luck for today had been well founded, for there, right in front of him, sat Gustavo Simionato, the most illustrious Italian film and theatre director of pre-war days.

  Raul recognized him immediately, any student of the theatrical world would have done. In pre-war days, Simionato’s photograph had always shared equal prominence with that of his stars. The man was a legend in his own lifetime. Raul had studied the camera and lighting techniques adopted by him as part of his course at Rome University. There was no doubt about it: it was Gustavo Simionato in the flesh.

  He was sitting alone at a café drinking coffee. This was the opportunity Raul had been waiting for, the day when Lady Luck reached out and tapped him on the shoulder, and he responded with instant enthusiasm. He didn’t hesitate, not even stopping to think of what he might say when confronting the great man. He walked straight across to the café and when he reached Simionato’s table the words rolled off his tongue as easily as if he had been rehearsing them for years.

  ‘Signor Simionato, please permit me to buy you some wine.’ Raul executed a small bow with a flourish. The same bow from anyone else might well have seemed deferential, but from Raul it was anything but. Rather it served to enhance his self-confident charm.

  Simionato looked at the man before him through narrowed eyes. Thirty years in the world of theatre, with all the pretensions and foibles that world encompassed, enabled him to recognize Raul’s narcissistic vanity for the professional opportunism it was. He had no intention of making it easy for the young man; let him sweat for whatever it was he wanted.