by Lucy Gordon
‘I’d like my clothes back.’
‘They’re still wet; I’ve hung them up to dry.’
‘I need something that covers me better than this,’ she said firmly.
‘All right.’ He opened his buttons and removed his own shirt, handing it to her. ‘I’m afraid this is all I have here at the moment. It will cover you completely.’
It did, buttoning up to the neck and enclosing her in warmth from his body. She regretted that at once. It was too intimate, as was the sudden view of him bare-chested. But he retreated at once, returning in a moment with more tea, and breakfast.
‘Boiled eggs?’ she queried.
‘Don’t you eat them? I thought all the English did.’
‘As long as they’re soft boiled.’
‘If not I’ll do them again. And don’t look at me so suspiciously.’
‘You think I shouldn’t be suspicious after what you’ve done?’
‘No, you probably should. But it’s not for much longer. I want you to hear me out. After that I’ll return your phone, you can call for help, accuse me of kidnap and by tonight I’ll probably be in gaol. You can look forward to that, but listen first.’
‘As though anyone at Venice is going to arrest you!’ she said scornfully.
‘What about the people on the other end? Wasn’t someone meeting you at the airport? There’ll be a hue and cry by now. Cross your fingers and you’ll see me locked up yet.’
If she hadn’t been so wary she might have thought his voice held a note of resignation, almost of defeat. But she suppressed the thought before it could flower. She’d let down her guard with him once. Never again.
‘I look forward to seeing you locked up,’ she said.
He looked at her for a moment, then left without speaking.
The eggs were perfect. She ate every last crumb then got out of bed and went for a wash. Putting back the shirt made her relatively decent, she reckoned.
Going through her bag, she found her things untouched except for the missing phone. There, in its own small compartment, was the glass heart Antonio had given her, and a sudden impulse made her put it on. It would tell Salvatore where her true heart lay, and it gave her a mysterious feeling of safety, as though Antonio was watching over her, as he’d often promised to do.
‘Look him up in gaol,’ she muttered. ‘He doesn’t mean it. He’s just trying to get around me.’
But her own words didn’t convince her. Once again she had the frustrating sense of thinking she knew all about Salvatore, only to find a new side to him that left her as confused as ever.
He was waiting on the terrace as she went out and sat a careful distance from him.
‘What game are you playing?’ she wanted to know.
‘No game. You shouldn’t be surprised that I stopped you returning to England, after your graphic description of what you were going to do when you got there. You knew what you were telling me-’
‘That I could raise the money I needed to fight you-’
‘Helena, let’s be honest. Our fight has nothing to do with money or glass. We were made to belong together, but only if we could get other things out of the way first. We started as enemies but it didn’t stop me wanting you more than I’ve ever wanted any woman. No-don’t say it.’ He held up a hand to silence her. ‘Don’t say anything about that figurine,’ he continued. ‘It was designed long before I met you, and its coming out now was an unlucky accident. It’s just that…’
There he stopped, silenced by pain and confusion. Never in his life had he known how to describe his own feelings, or perhaps there simply hadn’t been any worth describing. The few times he’d managed to find words he’d been talking by rote, saying what was proper, disconnected from meaning.
But now that the meaning overwhelmed him, burning him up with emotions more intense than any he’d allowed himself to feel before, he was struck dumb.
Clown! Idiot! Say something! Anything!
Why didn’t she help him? She was the one who was clever with words.
‘It’s just that what?’ she asked.
He made a helpless gesture. ‘Nothing. You wouldn’t believe me, anyway.’
The hope that had briefly flared in her died again.
‘You’re right, I probably wouldn’t,’ she sighed. ‘Let’s call it a day.’
She rose to go but he stopped her.
‘Are you going to give up without even trying for what we might have?’ he asked harshly.
‘I’m not sure it’s worth trying for. Won’t we just be banging our heads against a brick wall? Let me go now.’
He’d taken hold of her, suddenly terrified at her ability to slip away from him in mind and heart if not in flesh. He grasped her body, knowing that her real self still eluded him but helpless to prevent it.
‘I said let me go,’ she gasped.
He did so, loosening his grip, but not quickly enough. As she pulled away there was the sound of a small crash and, looking down, they saw her glass heart in pieces on the ground.
‘Oh, no!’ Helena dropped to her knees.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said desperately. ‘It was an accident, I didn’t mean-’
She rose, clutching pieces of broken glass and backed away from him.
‘Look what you’ve done,’ she wept.
‘Helena, please-we can get another one just like it.’
He knew he’d made a fatal mistake as soon as he uttered the words, and if he hadn’t known her scorn would have told him.
‘Just like it? How dare you? Nothing will ever be like it.’
‘I know it was a gift from Antonio but-’
‘You fool! It wasn’t a gift, it was the gift, the first thing he ever gave me. I wore it when we married, and when he lay dying in my arms he touched it and smiled at me. Can you give that back to me?’
Dumbly he shook his head, feeling the ground shaking beneath his feet. He’d done a terrible thing and he didn’t know how to put it right, or if there was any way to put it right at all. Her grief tore him apart and his own helplessness nearly drove him mad.
He was used to her strength but the agony of her sudden defeat almost destroyed him. And the sound of her tears brought back ghosts that had appalled him for years.
‘Put it down,’ he said, reaching out to her hands that were still clutching the broken glass. ‘Put it down before you harm yourself.’
Somehow he managed to get it away without cutting her. She didn’t try to move, just stood there shaking with misery.
‘What is it?’ he begged. ‘For pity’s sake, tell me.’
She shook her head, a gesture not of defiance but of helplessness.
‘I’m not letting you go until you tell me everything,’ he said in the gentlest voice Helena had ever heard him use.
But she couldn’t respond. The brave face she’d worn since losing the only person in the world to whom she’d been close had suddenly cracked and fallen away, leaving her defenceless.
‘Tell me about Antonio,’ he said. ‘We’ve never talked much about him, and perhaps we should.’
Still she couldn’t speak through her sobs, and he just held her while the storm quietened.
‘I know I was wrong,’ he offered, ‘but that’s all I know. Helena, please…’
She choked and moved her head back a little, enough to speak.
‘Antonio and I were never husband and wife in the proper sense,’ she whispered, ‘but in my own way I loved him. You wouldn’t understand. You know nothing about love.’
‘I might understand more than you know.’
‘No, you see things so simply. You want, you get. Kindness and affection don’t come into it.’
Salvatore groaned and dropped his head so that it just rested against her.
‘I loved Antonio,’ she said sadly, ‘because he was gentle and generous, and he loved me without wanting to grab everything and drain me dry. That’s what men do but he was different, better.’
‘I don’t und
erstand. You could have had any man you wanted-’
‘That’s right, I could,’ she said, recovering enough to speak defiantly. ‘For the best part of sixteen years, I watched them slaver, pant, yearn. And I enjoyed it because I despised every one of them. I’ve been offered as much money as I liked if only I would-well, you can guess. But I never would. Never. Any man I wanted, yes! Only I didn’t want any of them. They couldn’t believe it. Of course they couldn’t. No man ever does. They all thought the same as you, that I was anybody’s as long as the money was right.’
‘Don’t!’ he groaned. ‘I’ve said I’m sorry about that. How can I make you believe it? I misjudged you. I’ve known for a long time. The first time we made love I knew you were different from what I’d thought.’
‘You expected a prostitute,’ she said bitterly.
‘No, but I did expect a woman of experience. Instead-I can’t say exactly-it was like making love to a girl. It might almost have been your first time.’
She was about to throw another bitter reply at him, but suddenly she noticed his eyes and realised there was something there she’d never seen before; not just earnestness, but a terrible honesty, as though his life depended on convincing her.
‘It wasn’t my first time,’ she said in a gentler voice than she had meant to use. ‘Just my first time in sixteen years.’
Once he would have been sceptical, but by now he had some hard-won wisdom. He urged her head against his shoulder, then stood there, wishing she would put her arms about him, or show some other sign of response.
‘Look at me,’ he whispered. ‘Please, Helena, look up.’
Something in his voice seemed to affect her, and after a few moments she did as he asked, revealing a face so weary and vulnerable that he drew a shocked breath. The next moment he was kissing her, not with passion but softly, letting his lips linger for only a moment on her lips, her cheeks, her eyelids.
‘It’s all right,’ he whispered. ‘It’s going to be all right. I’m here.’
Just why he expected this to reassure her he couldn’t have explained. She didn’t want him here. She wanted him consigned to the devil; she’d made that plain enough.
‘Helena-Helena…’
She made the tiniest possible movement towards him with her hand, and he thought, but couldn’t be sure, that she murmured his name. He didn’t wait for more but lifted her carefully and took her back into the bedroom, laying her down on the bed and stretching out beside her.
‘Trust me,’ he said.
He drew her close to him again, not making love, but offering warmth and security, and she seemed to understand at once because she clung to him with a helpless need he’d never known in her before, even at the height of her desire. He had no defence against the sensation which took him by surprise, upsetting every preconception, triggering feelings that alarmed yet exhilarated him.
‘What happened?’ he asked at last.
‘When I was sixteen I met a man called Miles Draker. He was a fashion photographer and he said he could make me a big name. I fell totally in love with him. I’d have done anything he wanted. I didn’t care about being famous, I just wanted to be with him all the time.
‘It was a wonderful life, making love at night, taking pictures by day. While he trained the camera on me he used to say things like, “Remember what we did last night-think that it’s happening now-now imagine you’re trying to please me.” And I did. Then I’d look at the pictures afterwards and see it in my own face. I thought it was my love that showed, but of course love wasn’t what he wanted. Pretty soon I was a success, just the way he had said. He gave me a contract, tying me to him, and I was the happiest girl in the world.
‘And then, just when we were starting to hit the big time, I discovered I was pregnant. I was so thrilled.’ She gave a soft mirthless laugh. ‘When I look back I can hardly believe how delighted I was. Fool! Idiot!’
‘Don’t call yourself names,’ he said.
‘Why not? They’re all true.’ Her voice took on a tortured edge as she went on, ‘Stupid, ignorant cow, brainless-’
‘Is that what he called you?’ asked Salvatore, who was beginning to discern the horrible end of this story.
‘That and a dozen other things. I thought he’d be pleased but he was furious. Just when we were getting somewhere I was going to “mess it up”. He wanted me to get rid of the baby and when I wouldn’t he screamed at me.’ Her voice rose almost to a shriek and she began to thump him, crying, ‘Thoughtless, selfish bitch-’
‘I said stop,’ he told her, covering her mouth with his own.
She was shaking violently and at first she continued to thump him, although with no strength behind it. He simply countered the blows by holding her steady until she gave up and yielded, her lips moving softly in what might have been a kiss, if only he could be sure.
‘Go on,’ he said at last. ‘What did he do?’
‘He kept on and on at me, saying it was his big chance as well as mine, and how could I be so selfish? But I couldn’t do it. This was my child, depending on me for protection. I tried to make him understand but he just got angrier.
‘I remember him sneering, “You weren’t actually thinking of marriage, were you?”’
‘Were you?’
‘I might have been once, I can hardly remember. If so I abandoned the idea pretty fast. He was so determined to “get rid of the problem” as he put it that he turned into a monster.’
‘Did he hit you?’ Salvatore demanded in mounting outrage.
‘No, of course not. He might have left a mark and that would have damaged the merchandise. He had his own methods. Once he brought a “medical advisor” to talk to me. When that didn’t work he just nagged, going on and on and on, screaming, shouting, calling me names all the time we were working.’
‘Why didn’t you just walk out?’
‘He had me tied to a contract. Besides, I knew I’d have to leave as soon as I started to show. I just wanted to earn while I could, so that there’d be something to live on. If that meant putting up with his nastiness, it was worth it. But then-’ she shuddered ‘-then…’
‘Go on,’ he said gently against her forehead.
‘One day when he was really bad I started crying, and I couldn’t stop. The next thing I knew, I’d lost the baby.’
‘Maria vergine!’ Salvatore muttered.
‘After that he thought everything was going to be fine. He’d got what he wanted, and what else mattered? When I wouldn’t go back to him he threatened me with legal action. But then a magazine gave me a big spread. Suddenly I was in demand as never before. I got taken on by an agency who told me to leave everything to them.’
‘What did they do?’
‘I never asked; I only know they managed to tear up the contract. I got a phone call from Draker, screaming abuse at me, but I hung up halfway through, and never heard from him again. A few years later I saw him taking seaside photographs of tourists. He didn’t see me.
‘After that I concentrated on my career and nothing else. And it took off. I had more work than I could cope with. There were always men who wanted to be seen with me, so I let them, but they never got anything else. I was dead inside and all I could feel for them was contempt. Until I met you I hadn’t slept with a man for years, nor wanted to.’
Salvatore held her in silence, but inwardly he was groaning. He wanted to beg her to stop because he couldn’t stand any more of such a nightmarish story. But in his heart he knew that the real nightmare was the way he’d lined himself up with all the others.
He was as bad as any of them; no, worse, for he’d always sensed something wrong. Instinct had told him from the first that she didn’t quite fit his image of the rapacious harlot, yet he’d blinded himself to whatever didn’t suit him. As her power over him had grown so had his anger at her for possessing such power. When he’d felt his heart touched he’d moved fast to shut it down.
‘And then there was Antonio,’ Helena said.
‘He was facing the end of his life alone, and all he asked of me was to be with him. He knew I had money of my own because he’d safeguarded it for me, so he never thought I was marrying his wealth.’
‘Don’t,’ Salvatore groaned.
‘No, I wasn’t aiming that at you. I’m just saying that he knew he could trust me, and that helped our whole relationship. I started out being fond of him, and we grew closer and closer. It was me he wanted-not my body, me! He was the only man I could ever say that about.’
Not any longer, he thought, but uncharacteristically lacked the confidence to say it.
‘He took such wonderful care of me,’ she mused.
‘You should have told me long ago,’ he murmured. ‘But then, I didn’t ask, did I? I never said one word that might have encouraged you to open yourself up to me as a person. I only thought about how madly I wanted you, and how you were leading me a merry dance.’
‘I meant to,’ she said. ‘After that first day I was so angry at the way you instinctively thought the worst of me. It never crossed your mind that I might have been sincerely fond of Antonio. I soon discovered that you knew nothing about love because you don’t believe in it.’
Suddenly she moved away slightly and turned, propping herself up on one elbow and surveying his face. ‘Shall I tell you something that’ll really annoy you?’
‘Anything that gives you pleasure,’ he said wryly.
‘I came to Venice with the fixed intention of selling you Larezzo. Antonio had told me that you’d probably make an offer and he was glad because it would give me some more financial security.’
She stopped, for Salvatore had covered his eyes and groaned.
‘And I drove you into opposing me by the way I behaved,’ he said at last. ‘I’m to blame for everything.’
‘No.’ She stroked his hair. ‘After what your grandmother told me I guess a lot of it was inevitable.’
He stared. ‘What did she tell you?’
‘About your father, and how he broke your mother’s heart with his other women.’
After a moment Salvatore asked quietly, ‘Is that all she told you?’
‘Only that your mother died suddenly.’
He sighed. ‘There’s a bit more to it than that.’
