One Summer in Italy…

by Lucy Gordon

  ‘Police!’

  ‘Not to worry,’ he said reassuringly. ‘That’s Pietro, whom I know well because he used to be my bodyguard. Good, he’s turning away, too tactful to disturb us.’

  When the uniformed man had moved off she said, ‘Bodyguard?’

  ‘A couple of years ago I presided over the trial of a man called Fortese. He was a nasty character who uttered a lot of threats. So I had police protection for a while, but then the trial ended, I gave him thirty years and he’s been locked away ever since.’

  ‘He threatened to kill you?’ she demanded, aghast.

  He gave one of his rare grins. ‘I suppose he thought it was a better bet than a long sentence. Forget it. It happens all the time. We’re a very dramatic people, as you may have noticed. We scream threats, but nothing happens.’

  Holly sat sipping coffee, feeling the world change shape around her. Since she had come to Italy everything seemed tinged with danger, of one kind or another, and now here was a new kind. How sedate England seemed by comparison.

  The wisest thing would be to go home, but she had no desire to do so. She was living with an intensity she’d never known before, and part of that excitement was the man sitting here, calmly shrugging aside threats against his life.

  This was Italy, not merely a land of beautiful landscapes and ancient buildings, but a place where the stiletto still flashed. Here passions were violent, whether hate or love. And the strangest thing of all was that she felt at home. She had been an Italian ever since the night in the garden with Bruno, when she had discovered the joys of vendetta.

  Matteo was watching her. ‘What are you thinking?’ he asked.

  ‘Lots of things, all muddled up,’ she said. ‘That’s how it’s been ever since I came to this country. I’m even beginning to like it. Nothing here is ever quite what it seems.’

  ‘You most of all,’ he observed.

  ‘Yes, I suppose that’s true. Even I don’t quite know who I am.’

  ‘I, too, am confused about you. I didn’t mean to see you again like this tonight. It might have been safer not to.’

  ‘How do I confuse you?’

  ‘The day we met-I saw only that you could be useful.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, smiling, ‘I realised that.’

  ‘It’s my way. I see what I want and do what is necessary to get it. It isn’t an amiable trait and I tend to bulldoze my way through life. Being a judge gives me an amount of power that-’ he hesitated ‘-probably isn’t good for any man.’

  ‘I’m not complaining,’ she said. ‘A bulldozer was just what I needed. Nothing else could have saved me.’

  ‘But still,’ he gave a self-deprecating smile, ‘now that I’ve got what I wanted, I can afford to reflect that perhaps I didn’t behave very well to get it.’

  ‘That’s always the best time to reflect,’ she agreed, ‘when you’ve won.’

  He glanced up quickly. ‘Are you making fun of me?’

  ‘Would you mind very much if I was?’

  ‘If it was you-no. It’s just something I’m not used to.’

  ‘I don’t suppose there’s been much laughter in your life recently, has there?’ she asked gently.

  ‘No, but then there never has been. I’m not a man noted for my sense of humour, as you may have observed. When people laugh I always wonder if they’re looking at something over my shoulder, so I play safe and discourage laughter. That, too, is not a pleasant characteristic.’

  There flashed across her mind the memory of the man in the photograph with his wife and child, laughing, full of joy. But that man no longer existed. ‘Why are you so determined to put yourself down?’ She added, ‘We all have our unattractive side.’

  ‘But in some of us it predominates,’ he said, speaking seriously. ‘I don’t think well of myself at the moment-for reasons that I can’t tell you-’

  ‘I’m not trying to pry, but I would help you if I could.’

  She spoke from her heart. Her own instincts and something in his manner told her that there was more here than simply grief at his wife’s loss. He was like a man labouring under a crushing burden, lashing out at one moment, but reaching out for help the next. She wanted to take him in her arms and ease his pain. It took an effort not to touch him.

  ‘One day,’ he said at last, ‘there are many things I would like to tell you.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘yes…’

  But the mood was dispelled by the approach of the waiter with more coffee. She forced herself to smile and seem normal but it was hard when she had seemed to be drawing closer to him.

  He too had assumed an air of normality, saying, ‘Last night we celebrated your freedom. What are you going to do with it?’

  ‘I’m going to use it to stay here. I’ve no reason to hurry back to England. No close family. No job. Nobody who needs me as Liza does.’ She gave a little laugh. ‘I think that’s my weakness-I enjoy being needed. It’s my need, someone who depends on me, as my mother did.’

  He nodded slowly. ‘You were made to be needed. You have a strength that will always draw others to you. I didn’t see it at first because when we met it was you who needed help, but Liza saw something in you that would sustain her through the dark times.’

  ‘I still wish I knew more about your wife-of course, I understand why you don’t want to talk about her-’

  ‘I wonder if you do.’

  ‘Eight months isn’t very long, and you’re still grieving-’

  ‘Are you still grieving for Bruno Vanelli?’

  She thought for a moment before saying, ‘Only for the person I thought he was. Remember how we talked about this once before? You were right. The happiness I knew with him is something I’ll never know again. But that happiness is dead, just as the man I believed in is dead.’

  ‘Fool’s paradise,’ he said sombrely. ‘How long it lasts is the luck of the draw.’

  ‘I suppose it can only be fleeting,’ she said with a little sigh.

  ‘No, it can last for years.’

  ‘Did yours last for years?’ she asked.

  For a moment she thought she’d gone too far, trespassing on his private feelings. But instead of being annoyed he nodded silently.

  ‘So you want to know more about my wife?’

  ‘I need to know the things Liza knows-like, how did you meet?’ she asked bravely.

  ‘She was over here on holiday, being taken on a conducted tour of the law courts. She came into the court where I was prosecuting a case, and as soon as I saw her it was all up with me. I fumbled, made a fool of myself, lost the case.

  ‘Afterwards I caught up with her before she left the courthouse. She laughed at me. I was dazzled. That very night I determined to marry her. I was in love in the way the songs describe. We were married the following month. Liza was born a few months later, and I thought I was the happiest man in creation.’

  ‘You never wanted more children?’

  ‘Yes, but it didn’t happen. She miscarried the next baby, and suffered so much that I never asked her to try again. Besides, we had Liza.’

  His voice softened and he smiled as though he couldn’t help himself. There it was, she thought; the thing she’d been looking for, the overwhelming love of a father for his child.

  ‘I’ll bet she was a gorgeous baby,’ she encouraged him.

  His answer was a grin, open and unselfconscious.

  ‘She was the best,’ he said simply. ‘No other baby was like her. She did everything before other children, she walked, she talked, she smiled at everyone because she wanted the whole world to be her friend. But she smiled at me before anyone else, even her mother. If only you could have seen how she looked then-’

  ‘But I have,’ Holly told him. ‘There’s a book of photographs that Liza showed me, with some lovely pictures of the three of you. You seemed such a happy family.’

  ‘We were,’ he murmured softly.

  ‘I even felt envious because I never knew my father. I’d have lo
ved to have pictures like that, with his arms about me, looking at me with such love and pride. It would have been something to keep, even when he wasn’t there any more. When you have a memory like that, it’s like being blessed forever.’

  He didn’t answer. He seemed lost in a dream.

  ‘Don’t you ever look at those pictures?’ she asked.

  ‘No,’ he said flatly.

  ‘Perhaps you should-to remind yourself-’

  ‘And if I don’t want to remember?’ he asked quietly.

  ‘What can I say? I have no right to give you any advice.’

  He managed a bleak smile. ‘That never stopped any woman yet. Besides, I’ve made you part of it, so go ahead. Let me hear your advice.’

  ‘You both loved Carol, and you’re both grieving for her. But do it together. Talk about how wonderful she was.’

  ‘Wonderful-’

  ‘Well, wasn’t she? You said she was dazzling when you first met, but wasn’t it more than that, all the years you were together? Isn’t that why you’re grieving for her, because she was wonderful? Maybe you don’t want to dwell on that part, but I don’t think you can get through it without remembering, and sharing it with Liza. You’re the only person who can do that for her.’

  ‘I know I am,’ he said heavily. ‘That’s the devil of it. But you don’t know what you’re asking. If I could talk to anyone it would be you. I’m like Liza in that. We both lean on you. It’s the effect you have. But even with you…’

  His voice faded and the hand that was holding hers clenched convulsively.

  ‘It’s all right,’ she said. ‘It’s all right.’

  She wasn’t sure that he’d heard, but the grip on her hand remained tight. After a while he looked up, meeting her eyes, his own full of an unmistakable message. Every nerve told her that she should draw back, be cautious, but that message mesmerised her.

  She leaned forward as he reached up to touch her face, drawing his fingertips down her cheek, tracing the outline of her lips. It was the lightest touch, yet the effect was electric, shuddering through her with a brilliant excitement.

  ‘Holly,’ he whispered. ‘Holly-Holly-’

  It was like a lightning flash. Once before a voice had spoken her name on that caressing note, and it had all been a performance. Now another man was luring her into the same trap for his own ends, and she had nearly fallen for it.

  This time she’d even known what he was doing, yet the spell had worked. She’d recovered from Bruno, but to fall in love with Matteo would finish her.

  ‘Take me home,’ she said in a hard voice.

  He stared. ‘Holly-’

  ‘I said, take me home.’

  They let themselves quietly into the house.

  ‘Goodnight,’ she said, turning towards the stairs.

  ‘Holly, don’t.’ Matteo took her arm. ‘You’ve been silent all the way home and now you’re trying to run away from me. I didn’t mean to offend you. One moment I thought we understood each other, but then you backed off as though I were the devil. What happened?’

  ‘It got out of hand, didn’t it?’ she asked wildly.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘The clever game you’re playing. “Taking care of the problems”.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘Have you forgotten your own words so soon? I heard you talking to Signora Lionello after the party. She said I was out to get a rich husband, and you said you’d take care of the problems. I guess this is your way of doing it.’

  He swore under his breath.

  ‘Forget that,’ he begged. ‘It meant nothing.’

  ‘I know exactly what it meant. You’re trying to “attach me”, but only just so far, so that I’m there when needed. Just so that you have the use of me for Liza. After that I can go hang. A bit like Bruno really, except that he only wanted money. You want far more.’

  ‘Don’t dare liken me to him.’

  ‘Why not? You’re playing a cynical power game, just like him.’

  ‘A game? You think this is a game?’

  His move was too fast for her to see, and the next moment she was in his arms, feeling his lips on hers. If his fingertips had excited her, his kiss drove her wild. She tried to control the fierce feelings that threatened to overwhelm her body, but he seemed set on making her acknowledge them, moving his mouth over hers with seductive power.

  ‘Stop this,’ she managed to say.

  ‘No,’ he said fiercely against her lips. ‘Not until you see sense.’

  He called this seeing sense? she thought wildly as he silenced her again. There was no sense in this, no logic, no calculation, no ability even to think. There was only sensation so violent that it left her trembling, and anger at the way he thought he could set her objections aside, as though they counted for nothing.

  But the real treachery was the way rage became confused with desire. It was as though she had turned against herself, betraying her own resolve with the need to kiss him back, press herself against him, demand that he explore her further.

  Her mouth opened against his in what should have been a protest but emerged as a sigh, encouraging him to thrust his advantage home. The feel of him caressing her with skill and purpose almost sent her wild.

  She knew she must free herself from his hold, but it was hard when all her senses were betraying her. They wanted to cling to him, inviting him on to the next step, and the next, wherever the path might lead. But she would fight them, though it broke her heart.

  Holly could feel him moving, drawing her back into the shadows under the stairs, but she knew that if she yielded she was lost. This time she was going to be no man’s pawn.

  She tried to pull herself away from him, but succeeded only in freeing her mouth.

  ‘Let me go, right now,’ she gasped. ‘I’m warning you-I’m dangerous-’

  She had the feeling that he was almost in a trance, but this seemed to get through to him, and his hands fell away from her so suddenly that she had to clutch the wall.

  ‘Yes, you are,’ he murmured. ‘I shouldn’t have forgotten that.’

  She backed away until she reached a door, then turned and went through it without bothering where it led. She found herself in the dining room with its great window doors that led into the garden, and pulled them open, running outside, taking deep breaths, struggling to calm down.

  Holly had promised herself that this wouldn’t happen. Maybe she’d been warning herself about it from the moment she met Matteo, knowing even then that he was a man who threw Bruno into the shade. And every warning had been useless.

  She walked anywhere as long as it was away from the house, away from him. As she did so, she talked to herself.

  ‘Leave this place. Get as far away as you can. Get away from him.’

  All useless. There was a time when she might have left this place, but it was long past.

  She wandered for an hour, until at last her feet seemed to find their own way to Carol’s monument. She wasn’t sure why, unless she had subconsciously known that she would find him there. He was sitting on the edge of the fountain, dipping his hands into the water, throwing it over his face.

  He’d discarded his jacket, and the thin material of his shirt was soaked, showing her the outline of his body beneath.

  She didn’t want to look at him. The passion of desire he’d roused in her could only become a greater torment with that incitement.

  He looked up at her, gasping.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean anything to happen the way it has.’

  ‘Neither did I.’

  ‘You were partly right. It started as you said. I wanted to make sure of you, but then-things changed.’ When she didn’t answer he said almost angrily, ‘You know they did.’

  ‘I don’t know what I know, except this-I don’t want to be in the arms of a man who’s dreaming of another woman.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You’re still in love with her. You don’t
want me, except in one way, and you’re secretly ashamed of that. That’s why you came here, isn’t it? You couldn’t wait to beg her forgiveness for touching me.’

  He stared at her. In the silvery light she could only half see his face, glinting with droplets of water, but she could sense that he was totally thunderstruck.

  Suddenly he slid down from the fountain until he was sitting on the ground below and, to her astonishment, he began to laugh. Leaning back against the marble, he shook with bitter, silent mirth.

  ‘My God,’ he murmured. ‘Oh, dear, sweet heaven!’

  He put his hands up to his head, covering his face, rocking back and forth, almost moaning. Her anger couldn’t survive that desperate sound, like that of an animal in pain, and she went down on her knees beside him, trying to take hold of him.

  ‘Matteo, whatever is the matter?’

  He dropped his hands and looked at her. He was still making choking sounds that might have been laughter.

  ‘What’s so horribly funny?’ she asked.

  ‘Everything. Every damned thing, including your ideas about me. The grieving husband, dreaming of the woman he lost. I’ll tell you the truth. The only time I dream of Carol is in my nightmares.’

  ‘But-this thing…’ She indicated the monument.

  ‘This overblown monstrosity? I built it to hide my feelings, not reveal them. I could hardly tell the world how I really regard my wife’s memory.’

  ‘How you really…?’

  The tension seemed to drain out of him.

  ‘I hated her,’ he said tiredly. ‘I hated her with every fibre of my being for the vicious deception she’d practised on me for years. I hated her for not telling me the truth, and I hated her even more for finally telling it to me.’

  He closed his eyes and seemed to address some dreadful inner vision.

  ‘All those years I loved her, she filled my world. I’d have lain down my life in her service. I told you I’m not a demonstrative man, but with her I was. I held nothing back. Whatever I had or was or would ever be was hers, and she knew it. She’d known it for years, and all that time…’

  He opened his eyes again and turned in her direction, so that his head lay directly against the words ‘Beloved wife’ carved into the marble.