Читать книгу Secrets from the Past - Barbara Taylor Bradford - Страница 16

I passed through passport control and customs very quickly, and as I went out of the restricted area I spotted Geoff immediately. He was a Californian, tall and lanky, with a tan and streaky blond hair. Because of his height he was easily visible amongst the small group of people who were waiting for other passengers in the arrivals hall.

Waving to him, I moved forward, dragging my carry-on bag, and within a few seconds we were greeting each other with a warm hug.

‘Hi, Serena, I’m glad you’re here,’ he said as he took my case, rolling it along next to him, guiding me towards the exit. ‘Did you have a good flight? Get some sleep?’

‘I only dozed,’ I murmured, and looked up at him worriedly. ‘How is he, Geoff? How is Zac really?’

‘Not good, honey, but maybe not as bad as you’re probably imagining. No wounds, but he’s done in, exhausted, fucked out, to be truthful. Not suicidal though, and I told Harry that. But listen, kid, he is very depressed – so silent. He hardly says a word.’

Geoff paused, threw me an odd look before continuing in a worried tone, ‘I don’t think he has the strength to speak. That might sound weird, but he won’t eat, he doesn’t sleep. He’s badly in need of your care, I know that. And he did ask Harry to get you to come here.’

Geoff’s words troubled me. I swallowed. My mouth was dry. Finally, I managed to say, ‘Do you think he should be in a hospital?’

‘I sure as hell do, but you won’t get him to agree. I couldn’t. Neither could Harry when he spoke to him on the phone. I guess you’ll just have to get him on his feet and back to health in the bolthole. Because he won’t move from there. I gotta tell you, that’s a given.’

‘I understand,’ I answered, but I was filled with dismay. I cleared my throat. ‘He can be very stubborn. How do you get somebody to eat? To drink—’ I cut myself off as a thought struck me, and I looked up at Geoff, asked swiftly, ‘He’s not dehydrated, is he?’

‘I don’t think so, he has been sipping from the bottles of water I’ve given him.’ Geoff shrugged. ‘You can only make a proper judgement when you see him.’

‘Yes,’ I agreed, more alarmed than ever and telling myself not to panic. Yet I did feel a sense of anxiety, even a hint of fear.

Geoff and I walked out of the arrivals building, and he led me towards the private water-taxi stands. ‘That’s ours,’ he said, and indicated one of the motorboats. ‘I came over on it, had the guy wait. He’ll take us to the Piazza San Marco.’

I simply nodded, glanced around.

It was a grey day, the sky murky, laden with bloated clouds, and there was a hint of rain in the air. But then March and April were the rainy months in Venice.

I was glad to be off the plane and breathing fresh air, and it was fresh, much cooler than I had expected. I loved Venice, had come here often with my parents and sisters, and we had always had the best times.

Still, I didn’t have that sense of excitement I usually had when I arrived in this ancient, beautiful city of light and water. And I knew at once this was because of my mission, the task ahead of me.

For a moment, I wished I hadn’t come, and then immediately chided myself for being so apprehensive and cowardly. I could handle this, I could get Zac better; there was no doubt in my mind about that.

Well, there was just a little bit of doubt, but I was now going to stamp on it, grind it under my foot. I was going to be positive and determined, just like Jessica was when she had a challenge to meet.

The owner of the water taxi held out his hand, guided me onto the boat. I forced a smile, thanked him as he helped me down the steps and into the large cabin. A moment later Geoff was ducking his head, coming inside after me, taking the seat opposite.

The driver began to back out, edging his way into open water, manoeuvring the boat skilfully, as all of these Venetians seemed able to do. Staring at Geoff, I asked, ‘What about the food situation at the bolthole? Did you manage to go out and buy anything?’

He gave me a look that verged on the scornful, and exclaimed, ‘This ain’t my first rodeo, lady. What do you take me for, a greenhorn?’

Geoff laughed as he said this with a mock cowboy twang, and I laughed with him.

‘No, it ain’t your first rodeo, I know that, pal, but I figured you’d been a tad busy since you got here,’ I retorted.

‘I have stocked up. Claudia stayed with Zac, had coffee with him the day after we arrived, and I went out to the market, picked up lots of items, per Harry’s instructions.’

‘What did you buy?’ I asked.

‘Pastas, canned stuff, lots of fresh fruits and vegetables, the kind of things you like to make soup with, again per Harry’s advice. And Claudia did the rounds for me early this morning, bought fresh bread, cheese, butter, milk, oh and two chickens and chicken bouillon for your soup.’

‘My famous chicken in the pot,’ I muttered almost to myself, and then remembered how much Zac liked it. I focused on Geoff again, and added, ‘Thanks for doing the shopping, I’m grateful.’

‘My pleasure. I also want you to know that I’ve booked myself into the Bauer Hotel, moved my junk over there already. You must be alone with Zac. You’ll succeed much better without me hovering over the two of you. And if there’s any sort of emergency, I can be there real quick, and there’s also Claudia downstairs.’

‘Oh,’ I said. ‘Oh, okay, that’s fine.’ But was it, I wondered?

‘Don’t sound so concerned, Serena, you’ll see, he’ll respond to you better than he has to me.’ He leaned forward, turned his intelligent grey eyes on me. ‘It’s you he wants with him, you he depends on, you he needs.’

I made no response, just gazed at him.

Geoff exclaimed, ‘Hey, I’m not copping out, don’t think that! I really believe it’s better that I’m out of the way. He’s still in love with you, take my word for it, and once you’re there, he’ll become calm.’

‘Isn’t he calm?’ I asked anxiously, envisioning a rampant Zac, angry and upset, the way he’d been when we’d broken up eleven months ago. ‘Is he agitated? Excited? What state is he in?’

‘None of those you’ve mentioned. He’s … well, sort of nervous, moves around a lot, doesn’t seem able to sit still for long. Goes from one room to the next. But he’s not yelling and shouting, nothing like that. I told you, he doesn’t speak much. He’s very closed in. Remote, very distant, as if he’s in another world.’

Oh God, I thought, perhaps he’s in catatonic shock. Some kind of shock, anyway. Why wasn’t he talking to Geoff? They’d been through a lot together, they were war buddies, veterans of battle on the front line. Which is why Harry sent him to get Zac out. What was I going to do for him? How could I bring him back? Get him to be more normal? And how would I get him to eat and sleep?

Geoff must have read something in my expression, and he reached out, put his hand on my knee, and said in a low, reassuring voice, ‘You’ll be fine, honey, stop chewing it over. Zac needs you, and you’ll succeed where nobody else could.’

‘I hope so,’ I sighed, shaking my head. ‘I’ll give it a try.’

‘Your very best bloody try,’ Geoff asserted and squeezed my hand.

The water taxi dropped us off at the jetty near the Piazza San Marco, and we walked across the piazza slowly and in silence.

We were both lost in our own thoughts. I was recalling the times I had come here in the past, such happy times with my family, or with Zac, the two of us alone. Often I had been here in the height of the summer when the piazza was jammed with tourists from all over the world. But this was not the tourist season and it was less crowded on this chilly morning.

There were some people moving ahead of us, heading for the shops on the Frezzeria or Florian and Quadri cafés. Other tourists were sitting at the small tables in the square, watching the passers-by and the pigeons fluttering around or gazing at the magnificent Basilica di San Marco, marvelling at its beauty and whiling away the morning until lunchtime.

Geoff and I headed for a far corner of the piazza and the narrow cobbled street where the bolthole was located. Unexpectedly, Geoff came to a standstill and turned to me, taking hold of my arm. ‘Listen,’ he exclaimed, ‘I forgot to tell you one thing. I must warn—’

‘About what?’ I asked, cutting across him.

‘Zac and television. He has all the sets on at the same time on different networks. And he’s watching them constantly.’ He grimaced. ‘He’s watching one or the other, night and day, and he gets furious if you try to turn one off. So don’t do it. Humour him, okay?’

I nodded. ‘What’s he watching?’ I asked, and knew the answer before Geoff spoke.

‘War coverage, of course. General news. But mostly war coverage. He’s addicted to war, Serena.’

‘I know that,’ I said. My voice was a whisper.

We reached the building and went up to the third floor in the small, rather narrow elevator. When we got to the door of the bolthole I stood staring at it. Geoff was staring at me. Waiting.

Finally I said, ‘Okay.’ I took a deep breath. ‘I’m okay. Let’s go in.’