One Summer in Italy…

by Lucy Gordon

  ‘And how long did that last?’

  ‘Until last year, when she died.’

  Her voice shook on the last words and she fell silent. He was silent too, not offering sympathy, which could hardly be genuine, and which she would have found it hard to cope with, but letting her take her time.

  ‘And then?’ he asked at last in a voice that was quiet, and almost gentle.

  ‘I took a refresher course so that I could start teaching and that’s when I met-’

  ‘Bruno Vanelli.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And you fell for him because you’d never learned to be worldly-wise. I didn’t understand that until I spoke to Liza, and discovered that your life had given you little experience of the world, and of men. But why didn’t you tell me yourself?’

  ‘Didn’t we agree that the less I told you the better?’

  ‘True.’

  She gave a brief, mirthless laugh. ‘Anyway, there isn’t much to tell. He sought me out. He was good-looking and I was flattered. And it seemed so romantic that he was Italian. That’s how stupid I was.’

  ‘Ah, yes, we have that image,’ he murmured ironically.

  ‘If I’d been a bit sharper I’d have known that the truth is different-nothing to do with amore.’

  ‘And what do you think the truth is?’

  ‘It’s a stiletto,’ she said bitterly, ‘a slim dagger, small enough to be concealed until the last moment. And then it slides in so smoothly, so easily, so cruelly. And the victim never sees it coming until it’s too late.’

  Matteo gave a crack of laughter that, had she been in the mood to notice, matched her own in bitterness.

  ‘That may sometimes be true, signorina, but not always. It can be the poor, crazy Italian who is deluded, and the English enemy who deceives and tortures. The blow is so unexpected that it seems to come out of the sunshine, but afterwards there is only darkness. Where we use a stiletto, you use a bludgeon, but the destruction is just as final.’

  Holly stared at him as it dawned on her that this was no idle speculation. He was speaking out of a savage misery as deep as her own.

  ‘Do you have an English enemy?’ she asked.

  She saw him stop, tense and control himself before saying, ‘Go on telling me about Bruno Vanelli.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-’

  ‘I said go on.’ His voice was harsh.

  Something had happened. She wasn’t sure what, but the air was jagged with anguish.

  ‘Go on,’ he said again, more calmly. ‘I need to hear the rest.’

  She turned away, trying to escape the force of his presence. Now the hardest part of the story confronted her, and she could feel her courage ebbing away. It had been painful enough to live it. To relive it was more than she could bear.

  ‘Tell me everything,’ he commanded.

  ‘No,’ she choked, ‘not everything.’

  ‘Every last detail that you remember,’ he said remorselessly.

  When she did not speak he came up behind her and seized her arms, trying to turn her towards him, but she resisted.

  ‘I can’t help you through the pain,’ he said. ‘I can only tell you to endure and not yield to it. It’s the only way to survive.’

  Something in his voice made her relax, even against her will. He pulled her around to face him and she stood there, too distraught to move. He was watching her carefully, his dark eyes seeming to hold her even more firmly than his hands.

  ‘Yes,’ she murmured. ‘The only way.’

  ‘So now tell me,’ he repeated. ‘Everything.’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  AT LAST Holly nodded and he led her to a chair, urging her down gently, then retreating to stand by the wall a short distance away. After a moment she began to speak.

  It was hard to talk about her happiness, now that it was gone for good. She tried to function as a machine, but she was remembering the sweetest time of her life.

  ‘He took me out to dinner, we were together all the time. He seemed to want nothing except to be with me.’

  She fell silent as memories assailed her.

  When I’m with you, love of my life, I seem to come alive. You’re there in my dreams. I think of nobody else.

  ‘He said such things,’ she whispered. ‘They sounded wonderful-’

  ‘And yet words mean so little,’ came his voice from just behind her. ‘We all know that in our hearts but we won’t let ourselves believe it, because when we do-there is nothing.’

  ‘Well, maybe “nothing” isn’t so terrible,’ she said, almost angrily. ‘Maybe it’s best.’

  ‘That depends on what you had before, or what you think you had before.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose it does,’ she said heavily. ‘I know now that he chose me because I’m good at copying other people’s work. He showed me a photograph of a miniature that he said belonged to his family and asked me to imitate it. He said the original was kept in a bank, because it was so valuable.

  ‘Then he invited me to come to Italy with him, to meet his family in a little town near Rome, called Roccasecca. I’d never heard of it before but when I got there I loved it. It was just like every romantic picture I’d ever seen of a small Italian town. I should have realised it was too perfect to be true.

  ‘When we got there, the family seemed to disappear. There was always some reason why the meeting had to be postponed, although he took the picture to them and told me they loved it.

  ‘I suppose I began to be suspicious then, but I tried to ignore it. It had been a lovely dream and I couldn’t face the fact that it was over-no, it wasn’t over. It had never started. It had been false from the beginning. He’d played me for a sucker, and boy, was I ever a sucker!’

  She gave a hard laugh, looking into the distance, remembering.

  ‘I was the love of his life, his angel,’ her lips twisted in irony aimed at herself, ‘his beloved. Imagine that! Oh, I believed it. I ached to believe it. All the tired old clichés, amore, mia bella per l’eternità. And all the time his brain was calculating like a cash register.’

  Holly stopped again, but held out a hand to ward him off, lest he dared insult her with sympathy. But he didn’t, only watched her with wary eyes.

  ‘I must have seen it then,’ she said at last, ‘but I blinded myself to the truth a little longer. After all, there was nothing specific, just vague suspicions. Then he told me to go home, and he’d join me later.

  ‘My flight left from Rome, so I had to get the train from Roccasecca. Bruno dropped me off at the railway station but he didn’t stay, even though there was a two-hour wait for the train. I guess he was anxious to get away from me. While I waited I remembered something I thought I’d left behind in my room. I checked my luggage, and that was when I found it.’

  ‘The original of the miniature?’

  ‘How did you know?’

  ‘It was fairly obvious where this story was leading. As you say, he came looking for a talented artist with a gift for copying. He chose England because he isn’t known there, plus you would be useful in getting the real picture out of Italy.’

  ‘It sounds so obvious,’ she said with a sigh.

  ‘Obvious to me, perhaps, but there’s no need for you to be so hard on yourself. What did you do next?’

  ‘I didn’t know what to do, so of course I did the wrong thing. I called him and told him what I’d found. He tried to sweet-talk me, and the more he talked, the more scared I became. I hung up. Then I ran out of the station, got rid of the picture, and went back.’

  ‘That wasn’t wise. You should have gone in the other direction.’

  ‘I know, but I’d left my luggage at the station. And when I got there the train was due out in ten minutes. It seemed best to get on it. I didn’t think anyone’s suspicions could have been aroused by then,’ she explained.

  ‘Bruno Vanelli is known in that area. He has a criminal record, and when that miniature vanished he was the first one they thought of. He was ne
ver more than one step ahead but he could have been safe if you’d got the picture out of the country. Hence his rush.’

  ‘But if you know all this, why am I telling you?’

  ‘Because there’s a missing piece of the puzzle that only you know. Exactly where did you leave the picture?’

  Holly rose hastily and began to pace the floor, torn two ways, but he stopped her, fixing her with a gaze from his dark, brilliant eyes.

  It came over her, with frightening intensity, how much trust she was being asked to put in this man. He was an officer of the law. If she told him what he wanted to know, what would happen next? Were the police waiting for her with handcuffs?

  She looked up, terrified, and after a moment he nodded.

  ‘You have to trust me,’ he said. ‘I know that your experience has left you mistrustful, but if you don’t trust me, what will you do?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she whispered.

  Something in her rebelled at this situation. Inch by inch she was being drawn under his control and she would fight that to her last breath.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she cried.

  Matteo took hold of her. His hands were hard and warm, reassuring even as they commanded.

  ‘Trust me,’ he said softly. ‘You must trust me. You do, don’t you?’

  ‘I-’

  ‘Tell me that you trust me. Say it.’

  ‘Yes,’ she whispered. She hardly knew she was saying the words. Something stronger than herself had taken her over, and it was no use fighting. She felt hypnotised.

  ‘Tell me where you left that package.’

  ‘There was a little church near the station,’ she said, trying to speak through her confused thoughts. ‘It’s very tiny with a-’

  ‘I know it well. I have friends in Roccasecca. Liza and I were visiting them, which is how we came to be on the same train. Go on.’

  ‘The church was empty when I went in, so I put the picture behind the altar. There’s a curtain covering a wall with a hole at the bottom. I slipped it in there.’

  ‘Are you telling me the truth?’

  ‘Yes-yes-’

  ‘Have you left anything out? Think hard.’

  ‘No, I put it there, I swear I did.’

  At last he released her. ‘If you’re lying-heaven help us both.’

  ‘I’m not lying. But someone might have found it by now.’

  ‘Let’s hope not. You’ve been luckier than you know. Roccasecca was the birthplace of a mediaeval saint. The picture is reputed to be him, and it belongs to the very church where you left it. If we can find it, we can argue that no theft was committed, since it was returned to its rightful owners.’

  ‘But what can you do?’

  ‘I won’t let anything happen to you. I need you too much. You are useful to me as nobody else can be. Because of that you can trust me to defend and protect you as nobody else would do.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘Selfish motives are always dependable. Remember that, and feel safe.’

  She nodded. It was true.

  ‘So, if the picture’s still there, I’m going to arrange for it to be discovered, without involving you.’

  ‘But how?’

  He shrugged. ‘An anonymous message, maybe. Now, I suggest that you go to bed and forget about everything that’s been said tonight.’

  ‘But suppose-’

  ‘Suppose nothing,’ he said firmly. ‘Forget tonight. Don’t allow yourself to brood. That is where madness lies. None of us know what the future holds.’

  Next morning Matteo left the house saying he would be away for a couple of nights. He did not speak to Holly before he left, not even a goodbye, and she had no logical reason for believing that his departure was anything to do with her.

  She knew at once that Liza was upset by his absence, and gave herself even more completely than usual to the task of keeping her thoughts occupied. Liza asked again and again where her father had gone. Holly and Berta both reassured her that his journey was necessary ‘for work’, and she would calm down for a while, only to ask a few moments later, ‘He is coming back, isn’t he? You promise?’

  When she finally fell asleep that night Holly went to her own bed, exhausted and worried. She only slept a short while before being shaken awake by Berta.

  ‘You must come at once. She awoke with a nightmare and I can’t comfort her.’

  In Liza’s room Holly wasted no time with words, but simply got into bed with the child and hugged her until she fell asleep. As she lay holding her in the darkness she was coming to a decision.

  Next morning she said to Berta, ‘Your room’s right next to Liza’s, isn’t it?’

  ‘So that I am always close if she needs me.’

  ‘Will you change rooms with me?’

  ‘But, signora, you are in the best guest room at the judge’s orders. He will be angry with me.’

  ‘Leave him to me,’ Holly said simply.

  By the time Matteo arrived home next evening the transfer was complete. As she had promised, Holly took care of the matter.

  ‘Liza’s happier now I’m on hand all the time,’ she said. ‘In fact I’ve had the bed moved into her room, so I’ll just use mine as a dressing room. I hope that’s all right with you.’

  He nodded. ‘I bow to your wisdom. Do what you think right. But I wanted you to have somewhere better.’

  ‘It’s the best of all, from Liza’s point of view. Does anything else matter but that?’

  ‘Of course not. I leave such decisions to you.’

  ‘Berta will be glad to hear that,’ she told him cheerfully. ‘She was nervous about taking my old room, but I assured her that you wouldn’t object.’

  ‘Oh, you did, did you?’ he said ironically.

  ‘She won’t be there long. Alfio is pressing her to name the day.’

  ‘Then all problems will be solved,’ he said lightly.

  ‘Not quite all. Did you-have a successful trip?’

  ‘Entirely successful, thank you. You might say that I went on a hunting expedition.’

  ‘And your quarry?’

  ‘That was found where I’d hoped and is now safely back with its rightful owner.’

  The relief was overwhelming, but she forced herself to be realistic.

  ‘What will happen now-to-?’

  ‘Your friend? For the moment nothing. He was granted bail in the hope that he would lead the police to the stolen goods, but he vanished. With luck he might never be heard of again.’

  She nodded. ‘If he hears that it’s been recovered-’

  ‘He won’t. I pulled some strings with friends in the locality, and managed to get it kept quiet.’

  ‘But what about Sarah Conway?’ she asked cautiously.

  ‘Sarah who? She doesn’t exist, according to the police. Vanelli invented her to get the heat off himself. They’re not wasting valuable resources looking for a chimera.’

  She closed her eyes, faint with relief.

  ‘Thank you,’ she murmured. ‘Thank you, thank you.’

  Holly took a long, deep breath, suddenly aware of a weakness that threatened to consume her. He was telling her that the worst was over, and so it was. The realisation that the fear and dread had ended so abruptly was almost frightening.

  And it had happened because he had willed it so. That was almost the scariest thing of all.

  ‘Holly?’ His voice sounded close, and when she opened her eyes he was standing right beside her, his eyes alarmed.

  The force of conflicting feelings fighting for supremacy shook her to the core, making her sway. Instantly his hands were on her shoulders.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, a little breathlessly. ‘I’m fine-really-’

  ‘You’re not going to faint, are you?’ he asked, scandalised.

  ‘Of course not,’ she declared indignantly. ‘What do you think I am?’

  ‘Someone who’s entitled to faint if she wants to,’ he answered in a surprisingly gentle voice. ‘Som
eone who has been through enough to undermine the strongest woman, who was determined not to let her courage fail, and who had given everything in her to making sure that it didn’t.’

  ‘So what’s wrong with that?’

  ‘Nothing, but there’s a price to be paid in weakness and misery. Nobody can be strong forever. How many nights have you lain awake devoting your thoughts to Liza instead of your own troubles?’

  ‘Many,’ she murmured.

  ‘You were trying to forget the troubles, but now they have to be faced.’

  ‘But I thought they were over.’

  ‘Mostly they are. But they’ll haunt you and you can’t run from them. Don’t try. There’s no escape. They have to be struggled through in your head just as you struggled through them in reality.’

  As sometimes before, she had the sensation that he was talking about himself as much as her.

  ‘How long will they live with me?’ she wondered.

  ‘All your life because now they are you. They’ve changed you into another person and you can’t go back.’

  ‘That’s true. And I don’t want to go back.’

  He nodded. ‘You’re wise. The joy you once had-’

  ‘Thought I had-’

  ‘Is gone forever.’

  ‘But there’ll be other happiness,’ she said, almost pleading.

  ‘Perhaps, but never as you knew before. Live without it. Be strong without it, but never waste time grieving for it.’

  Holly shivered. The strength he was offering was the strength that came from a desert land, because now it was all he knew.

  ‘I wonder if you understand me,’ he said softly.

  ‘Yes, I understand you. Goodnight, Signor Fallucci. Thank you for everything you’ve done.’

  As summer advanced and the heat grew more like a furnace, Holly spent more time in the garden, especially in the evenings. One night, about a week after Matteo’s return, she slipped out and stood taking long breaths of the night air. There was only a soft moon tonight but she knew her way along the paths to the fountains, guided by their soft splashing, until she came to the memorial.