Irresistible You

by Victoria Connelly

  ‘No,’ she lied, her face screwing up at her horrible lie. ‘But I saw you,’ she said.

  ‘You did? Well, why didn’t you say something?’

  ‘You were with somebody.’

  There was a moment’s silence.

  ‘Elena,’ Prof began, ‘it’s not what you’re thinking.’

  Elena grimaced. She’d rung her dear Prof to get away from clichés. ‘I wasn’t thinking anything.’

  ‘I just met this woman and we had lunch.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘A few times, actually. She’s very nice. You’d like her.’

  Elena frowned. Prof would make a terrible adulterer.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘that didn’t come out quite how I meant it.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ she said.

  ‘No. It isn’t,’ he said. ‘I feel terrible about it.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because every minute I was with her, I should have been with you.’

  Elena paused. She wasn’t sure what to say. And what exactly was he saying? He was feeling guilty but did that mean he still loved her? And did she love him?

  ‘Prof,’ she began hesitantly.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘How do you feel about me?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  She took a deep breath. She wasn’t being very fair, was she? She knew how she felt about him. She wasn’t in love with him. She didn’t think she ever had been.

  ‘Elena?’

  ‘I’m still here.’

  ‘You sound strange,’ he said. ‘What’s wrong? Why are you asking me how I feel about you? You know how I feel.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said in a whisper. ‘But I’m not sure how I feel about you any more.’

  ‘Is this because of Anastasia?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The woman I was with because she wasn’t anything to do with us-’

  ‘I know,’ she assured him. ‘And it’s got nothing to do with her. This is just about me. I’ve not been fair to you, Prof. I’ve been selfish and mean and you deserve better than that.’

  ‘Elena, are you breaking up with me?’

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I’ll return your ring.’

  ‘Sod the ring! I don’t want the ring – I want you!’

  ‘Do you? Do you really?’

  ‘Yes! Of course I do. I don’t go around proposing to anybody, you know. It took me forty-nine years to pluck up the courage to ask you.’

  ‘But I’m all wrong for you.’

  ‘Why do you say that? Is it the age thing?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then what?’

  ‘I just don’t think we’re suited – not really.’

  ‘But we get on so well.’

  Elena sighed.

  ‘Look,’ he said, ‘I don’t want to break up with you on the phone. This is horrible.’

  ‘I know it is and I’m so sorry but I had to tell you. I’ve not been very honest with you lately – with anyone, in fact,’ she said. That was the closest she was going to get to the truth.

  There was a pause and a crackle of static on the phone.

  ‘Are you still there?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m still here. I’ll always be here for you, Elena.’

  Elena felt tears spring to her eyes. ‘No,’ she said, ‘don’t be. I don’t deserve you.’ And then she hung up.

  Chapter 41

  The Alilaguna from the airport was packed with holidaymakers keen for their first glimpse of Venice. Elena could safely say that she was the only person on board who was dreading reaching her destination. The flight back had been delayed by an hour and she’d been sat in front of a baby who’d howled for the entire journey. Now, she felt hot and irritable.

  When they reached the Fondamenta Nove, it was nearly lunchtime. Elena dragged her suitcase off the boat and followed the waterfront round over the Ponte Panada and dipped into a calle. Making sure it was all quiet, she reached into her coat pocket for the mask and put it on, keeping hold of her suitcase. She loved the fact that the mask not only turned her invisible but anything she was holding too so that her suitcase disappeared which was a blessing really because a suitcase going for a walk on its own would have looked a bit peculiar.

  It took only about eight seconds for the mask to work its magic this time which was just as well because a couple of teenagers turned into the calle kicking a football. They didn’t seem to notice when it bounced off her invisible suitcase.

  Elena took the familiar route from the waterfront to the apartment, wondering if Rosanna would be in and how she was going to get in herself if there was anybody around. She took the key out of her handbag and boldly inserted it into the keyhole, turning the handle and letting herself in. That was the easy bit. If she closed the door behind her, it would make a clang worthy of a medieval castle and she had to be sure nobody was in before she did that.

  Standing absolutely still, she craned her neck up the flight of stone steps into the living room. She couldn’t tell if the place was empty or not: it was so huge that there might very well be a party going on in the spare room at the back and she wouldn’t be able to hear. She waited. At last, she felt sure she heard a voice: a man’s voice. What could she do? She could simply leave the door open: it was a quiet area and everyone knew everybody else, but that would probably get Rosanna into trouble. Yet she had to get in. She couldn’t afford hotel prices and didn’t want to have to go as far as the mainland. And she needed to see Rosanna – that was what she’d planned.

  Leaving the door very slightly ajar, she walked slowly up the steps into the apartment. The voice was becoming louder now but it wasn’t one she recognised which meant it wasn’t Mark or Reuben. Who could it be? Not Corrado, surely?

  Then she had her answer: in the kitchen, a tall, thin man with foppish hair was stooped down stroking cat-child. Sandro.

  Whilst he was making a fuss of the cat, Elena took the opportunity to sneak through to the spare bedroom at the back of the apartment. Three stone steps led down into it and she carried her suitcase down them carefully, trying not to knock or scrape anything.

  Pushing the bedroom door open, she crossed the room and shoved her suitcase under the bed. It was then that she noticed a nightgown on the other single bed in the room. It was Rosanna’s nightgown. Of course! If Sandro was back, Rosanna would be relegated to the spare bedroom which meant that Elena couldn’t possibly sleep in there.

  Or could she? A sudden thought occurred to her. What would happen if she wore the mask at night? She wouldn’t be able to sleep under the covers because she’d still take up space and that would show but what if she slept on the bed itself? Rosanna wouldn’t be any the wiser, would she? Elena didn’t snore or anything. She might just get away with it but perhaps she’d be best to check before she put the mask to the test. She’d never worn it longer than a few minutes and didn’t know what it was capable of.

  Entering the living room, she saw that Sandro was now standing in front of one of his easels wearing the discontented look artists often wore. The canvas he was looking at was one of a street scene – obviously New York, and he didn’t look happy with it. As he walked back to examine it, an idle finger found its way up his right nostril where it scratched, twirled and scraped. Elena grinned to herself. It was still a great novelty for her to witness what she shouldn’t be witnessing but she didn’t hang around. She was a woman on a mission.

  Leaving the door slightly ajar, she ran out of the small calle and on into the heart of Venice. After her journey by car, plane and Alilaguna, it was good to stride out through the streets again. Cannaregio always felt safe and Elena soon took her mask off and lost herself in the Easter crowds heading towards the Accademia Bridge. She smiled as she saw the monstrous Easter eggs filling the shop windows, and dark chocolate bells bejewelled with bright flowers.

  The streets of Dorsoduro were teeming with tourists too who blocked br
idges in their attempts to get the perfect photograph. Workers, too, caused chaos as they tried to manoeuvre goods over endless steps in metal trolleys, reminding Elena that everything in Venice had to be shipped in.

  Thankfully, it became quieter when she turned into the little calle that led to Viviana’s. When she’d first arrived in Venice, she’d got the feeling that it wasn’t just a labyrinth but a labyrinth that changed every day, so she’d been surprised by the speed at which she’d learnt to navigate the backstreets.

  She felt a sudden sense of calm as she neared the shop – as if she’d been going there for years - feeling as if Stefano and Viviana were part of her family rather than people she’d only met a few days ago.

  She saw that there were a few new masks in the window: a couple of the traditional bautas and a new jester with pretty silver bells and, inside the shop, there was a huge wooden chest full of bright faces. The original gold mask was still in the window too, its skin gleaming and its hollow eyes seeming to take in the whole of Elena in a simple glance, and Elena couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if she put that mask on. Were all the masks in the shop passports to adventure? Stefano seemed so sure that he’d given Elena the right mask for her but her curiosity was getting the better of her and she pushed open the door and heard the merry tinkle of the shop bell.

  Once again, there was nobody around and the curious silence of the shop enveloped her. Elena turned to look into the window, her heart hammering inside her chest as she leant forward to pick up the golden mask which had enticed her into the shop in the first place.

  ‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you,’ Stefano said, making Elena jump.

  ‘Stefano?’ she said. ‘I didn’t hear you.’

  ‘I’m never far away,’ he said.

  ‘No,’ Elena said, and it was true. She didn’t know for sure what he got up to in his secret room at the back of the shop. Most of the other mask shops had counters and work benches in the shop itself but not Stefano. Some of the tools of his work were on display along with the occasional mask but, for the most part, he kept his trade under wraps – away from the glare of inquisitive eyes.

  ‘Why did you want to try it on?’ he asked.

  ‘I – I don’t know.’

  ‘You must know.’

  Elena’s glance fell to the floor. She felt so silly having been caught like that. What did she think she was doing? Wasn’t one mask enough?

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said at last.

  Stefano nodded. ‘They’re addictive, aren’t they? I should know.’

  Elena stared at him and saw a strange light dancing in his eyes. There were hidden worlds there, she thought: secrets and surprises and mysteries and magic. He knew things that would never pass into the realm of ordinary people. Elena had had a glimpse of it with her mask but how much more was there to find out? Perhaps she’d never know.

  ‘Be content,’ he said. ‘You have the right mask for you.’

  ‘I know,’ Elena said, feeling spoilt and ungrateful. ‘And it’s the mask I’ve come to ask you about. I need it to help me with something.’

  ‘Good,’ Stefano said. ‘I’m pleased it’s of use.’

  ‘Oh, it is,’ Elena said. ‘I mean, I hope it will be. The thing is, I need to wear it all night and I was wondering if that was possible.’

  There was a pause when Stefano’s white eyebrows lowered over his dark eyes and his face was stiff with concentration.

  ‘You need to wear the mask all night?’ he said with a look of extreme concern.

  ‘Yes,’ Elena said. ‘Is it okay if I do?’

  ‘It should be okay,’ he said thoughtfully.

  ‘You’re sure?’

  He nodded. ‘There’s only one way to find out,’ he said, and he gave a little chuckle. Elena wasn’t at all sure she felt comforted by him.

  *

  Rosanna had called Reuben’s hotel to arrange to meet at a café in a nearby campiello. She wasn’t going to turn up at his hotel, that was for sure. Things were moving far too quickly with Reuben and she wanted them to slow down. That’s what she told herself as she left to meet him. But she knew it didn’t make any sense because she was about to try and persuade him to leave his life behind in London, move to Venice and rent Sandro’s apartment. If that wasn’t forward, she didn’t know what was. For one thing, they hardly knew each other, and there was still the problem of Elena to sort out.

  ‘I think you should go and see her,’ Rosanna blurted as soon as they met.

  ‘What?’ Reuben said, his dark eyes narrowing. ‘Why? She broke up with me.’

  ‘But that doesn’t change the fact that we’re together now. Even if you two had broken up anyway.’ Rosanna sighed. She’d been so excited by the idea of Reuben renting Sandro’s apartment but, before they talked about it, they had to discuss Elena. ‘This problem isn’t going to go away, you know. It isn’t just going to get better because of the passing of time. If anything, it will get worse. These things have a habit of festering and getting out of all proportion.’

  ‘I know,’ Reuben agreed. ‘But I can’t see what to do about it. She ran away from us, remember? I don’t think she wants us to go after her.’

  Rosanna shook her head. Reuben sounded just like Mark but Rosanna wasn’t so sure about his belief in what Elena wanted.

  ‘I think I should go.’

  Reuben shook his head. ‘I don’t think that’s a very good idea.’

  But Rosanna didn’t appear to be listening to him and got her mobile from her bag and rang her mama’s number.

  ‘Mama? I think it might be a good idea if I visited.’ There was a pause. ‘What? Back here? Are you sure? I’ve not heard from her. What time?’ There was another pause. ‘Do you know where she’s staying? Oh.’

  ‘What is it?’ Reuben asked but Rosanna waved her hand at him.

  ‘No. I’ll stay here. Perhaps she’s waiting for me at Sandro’s. Okay. I’ll call soon and let you know what’s happening.’

  Rosanna switched her phone off and looked across the table at Reuben. ‘Elena’s left Mama’s and is back in Venice.’

  ‘When? Where?’

  ‘I’ve absolutely no idea. But that’s a good sign, isn’t it? I mean, she wouldn’t have come back unless she was ready to talk, would she?’

  Reuben shook his head. ‘It might mean she’s come back to kill you.’

  Rosanna’s eyes widened in horror. ‘I don’t know why you think it’s funny.’

  ‘I don’t!’

  ‘Because, if she wants to kill me, she’ll probably want to kill you too!’

  *

  After leaving Vivianas’s, Elena took a vaporetto to San Marco from where she walked down the Riva degli Schiavoni. The further she went, the quieter it became - the majority of tourists not venturing much further than the Bridge of Sighs. The pavement broadened out into the lagoon and the sunshine made the distant view back to the Doges’ Palace and the campanile hazy and dreamlike. Boats danced across the water and a few gulls mirrored their movement in the lilac sky above.

  Elena found a white stone seat to sit on. There was no point in going back to the apartment just yet to sit perfectly still and invisible. She wasn’t sure where Rosanna was or when she’d be back but she wasn’t going to hang around waiting for her. But what was she going to do when Rosanna did get back? She’d seemed so sure of herself in Positano but now butterflies fluttered with worry in her stomach. She felt so nervous. She really wanted to sort things out; it was the only way they could all move forward but what if everything went horribly wrong? She knew she’d acted irresponsibly and been unfair to Reuben - to all her fiancés - but she was determined to make amends, she just wasn’t quite sure how.

  *

  Watching the world go by was one of the loveliest pastimes in Venice but two hours was more than enough and Elena got up with a numb bottom. She managed to get back into the apartment easily. Sandro had gone out and Rosanna was still out too. Probably with Reuben, she thought. The t
raitors. She groaned; she still felt so angry and betrayed by both of them and yet felt guilty and appalled at hating them both for it.

  She crossed the living room and headed down the steps which led to the spare room at the back of the apartment. There were two double beds there and Rosanna had taken the one on the right. Elena had already hidden her suitcase under the one on the left and observed that there was a good ten feet between the beds so that should prevent them from knocking into each other unintentionally in the night, and at least there wasn’t a chance that Reuben would be calling at the apartment now that Sandro was back.

  She lay down on the bed, mask-less for the time being, and stared up at the white ceiling. Three large beams crossed the sloping ceiling and you had to be careful getting in and out of bed lest you knocked your head against one. Elena shut her eyes. It was a very comfortable bed and it was easy, after her day’s travel, to fall into a deep sleep. She didn’t hear Sandro coming back in, moving canvasses around. Nor did she hear Rosanna returning home and clattering dishes in the sink. It wasn’t until cat-child leapt up on the bed and placed a purring face next to her ear, that she awoke.

  ‘Oh my lord!’ she said, hearing Sandro and her sister talking in the next room. Leaping off the bed, Elena grabbed the mask and put it on as she hurriedly made the bed. She’d been asleep for hours and it was dark outside. She might have been caught there. How would she have explained herself?

  Once invisible, she crept to the bedroom door which had been ajar all the time, cat-child following her and rubbing herself against Elena’s invisible leg. Elena tried to shoo her away but she remained, resolutely, by her side, making Elena wondered if she were, indeed, invisible to the cat.

  Sandro sounded excitable and Rosanna’s voice was angry.

  ‘How many times do I have to tell you? I closed the door after me!’

  ‘You’re sure?’ Sandro asked.

  ‘It isn’t an easy door to leave open, is it? You can tell when you close it because the whole street vibrates! Of course I closed it! Stop questioning me about it,’ Rosanna yelled. ‘You probably left it open yourself.’