Читать книгу Swept Away! - Lucy Gordon, Daphne Clair - Страница 7

SUDDENLY he opened his eyes again, revealing that the tension had gone. The dark moment might never have been. His next words were spoken lightly.

‘You’re getting very philosophical.’

‘Sorry,’ she said.

‘Were you talking about yourself when you said we each live by refusing to admit the truth?’

‘Well, I suppose I really knew that another woman had her eye on him, and I ought to have realised that he’d give in to flattery, no matter what he’d said to me hours before. But it was still a bit of a shock when I went to meet him at the theatre after the performance and found them together.’

‘What were they doing—or needn’t I ask?’

‘You needn’t ask. They were right there on the stage, stretched out on Cleopatra’s tomb, totally oblivious to anyone and anything. She was saying, “Oh, you really are Antony—a great hero!”‘

‘And I suppose they were—’ Dante paused delicately ‘—in a state of undress?’

‘Well, he still had his little tunic on. Mind you, that was almost the same thing.’

‘So what did you do?’ he asked, fascinated. ‘You didn’t creep away in tears. Not you. You went and thumped him.’

‘Neither.’ She paused for dramatic effect. ‘I hardly dare tell you what I did.’

‘Have we got to the bit where you’re unprincipled and vulgar?’ he asked hopefully.

‘We have.’

‘Don’t keep me in suspense. Tell me.’

‘Well, I take my camera everywhere…’

Dante’s crack of laughter seemed to hit the ceiling and echo around the carriage, waking the barman from his doze.

‘You didn’t?’

‘I did. They were wonderful pictures. I took as many as I could from as many different angles as possible.’

‘And he didn’t see you?’

‘He had his back to me,’ Ferne explained. ‘Facing downwards.’

‘Oh yes, naturally. But what about her?’

‘She was facing up and she saw me, of course. She loved it. Then I stormed off in a temper, went straight to the offices of a newspaper that specialised in that sort of thing and sold the lot.’

Awed, he stared at her. ‘Just like that?’

‘Just like that.’

His respect grew in leaps and bounds; a woman who reacted to her lover’s betrayal not with tears and reproaches but with well-aimed revenge was a woman after his own heart.

What couldn’t she do if she set her mind to it?

Would any man of sense want to get on her wrong side?

But her right side—that was a different matter!

‘What happened?’ he demanded, still fascinated.

‘There were ructions, but not for long. The seats had been selling reasonably well, but after that it was standing-room only. She gave an interview about how irresistible he was, and he got offered a big, new film-part. So then he walked out on the show, which annoyed Josh, the director, until the understudy took over and got rave reviews. He was Josh’s boyfriend, so everyone was happy.’

‘Everyone except you. What did you get out of it?’

‘The paper paid me a fortune. By that time I’d calmed down a bit and was wondering if I’d gone too far, but then the cheque arrived, and, well…’

‘You’ve got to be realistic,’ he suggested.

‘Exactly. Mick—that’s my agent—said some people wait a lifetime for a stroke of luck like mine. I’ve always wanted to see Italy, so I planned this trip. I had to wait a couple of months because suddenly I was much in demand. I’m not sure why.’

‘Word had spread about your unusual skills,’ he mused.

‘Yes, that must be it. Anyway, I made a gap in my schedule, because I was determined to come here, chucked everything into a suitcase, jumped on the next train to Paris and from there I got the train to Milan.

‘I spent a few days looking over the town, then suddenly decided to take off for Naples. It was late in the evening by then and a sensible person would have waited until morning. So I didn’t.’

Dante nodded in sympathy. ‘The joy of doing things on the spur of the moment! There’s nothing like it.’

‘I’ve always been an organised person, perhaps too organised. It felt wonderful to go a bit mad.’ She gave a brief, self-mocking laugh. ‘But I’m not very good at it, and I really messed up, didn’t I?’

‘Never mind. With practice, you’ll improve.’

‘Oh no! That was my one fling.’

‘Nonsense, you’re only a beginner. Let me introduce you to the joys of living as though every moment was your last.’

‘Is that how you live?’

He didn’t reply at first. He’d begun to lean forward across the table, looking directly into her face. Now he threw himself back again.

‘Yes, it’s how I live,’ he said. ‘It gives a spice and flavour to life that comes in no other way.’

She felt a momentary disturbance. It was inexplicable, except that there had been something in his voice that didn’t fit their light-hearted conversation. Only a moment ago he’d shut her out, and something told her he might just do so again. They had drifted close to dangerous territory, which seemed to happen surprisingly easily with this man.

Again, she wondered just what lay in that forbidden place. Trying to coax him into revelation, she mused, ‘Never to know what will happen next—I suppose I’m living proof that that can make life interesting. When I woke up this morning, I never pictured this.’

His smile was back. The moment had passed.

‘How could you have imagined that you’d meet one of this country’s heroes?’ he demanded irrepressibly. ‘A man so great that his head is on the coins.’

Enjoying her bemused look, he produced a two-euro coin. The head, with its sharply defined nose, did indeed bear a faint resemblance to him.

‘Of course!’ she said. ‘Dante Alighieri, your famous poet. Is that how you got your name?’

‘Yes. My mother hoped that naming me after a great man might make me a great man too.’

‘We all have our disappointments to bear,’ Ferne said solemnly.

His eyes gleamed appreciation at her dig.

‘Do you know much about Dante?’ he asked.

‘Not really. He lived in the late-thirteenth to early-fourteenth century, and he wrote a masterpiece called The Divine Comedy, describing a journey through hell, purgatory and paradise.’

‘You’ve read it? I’m impressed.’

‘Only in an English translation, and I had to struggle to reach the end.’ She chuckled. ‘Hell and purgatory were so much more interesting than paradise.’

He nodded. ‘Yes, I always thought paradise sounded insufferable. All that virtue.’ He shuddered, then brightened. ‘Luckily, it’s the last place I’m likely to end up. Have some more champagne.’

‘Just a little.’

A train thundered past them, going in the opposite direction. Watching the lights flicker on him as it went, Ferne thought that it wasn’t hard to picture him as a master of the dark arts; he was engaging and more than a little risky, because he masked his true self with charm.

She’d guessed he was in his early thirties, but in this light she changed the estimate to late thirties. There was experience in his face, both good and bad.

‘What are you thinking?’ he asked.

‘I was wondering what part of the other world you might have come from.’

‘No doubt about it, the seventh terrace of purgatory,’ he said, one eyebrow cocked to see if she understood.

She did. The seventh terrace was reserved for those who had over-indulged in the more pleasurable sins.

‘That’s just what I thought,’ she murmured. ‘But I didn’t want to suggest it in case you were offended.’

His wry smile informed her that this was the last accusation that would ever offend him.

For a few minutes they sipped champagne in silence. Then he remarked, ‘You’ll be staying with us, of course?’

‘As Hope says, I don’t have any choice, for a few days at least.’

‘Longer, much longer,’ he said at once. ‘Italian bureaucracy takes its time, but we’ll try to make your stay a pleasant one.’

His meaning was unmistakeable. Well, why not? she thought. She was in the mood for a flirtation with a man who would take it as lightly as herself. He was attractive, interesting and they both knew the score.

‘I’ll look forward to it,’ she said. ‘Actually, Hope wants me to talk to her about England, and it’s the least I can do for her.’

‘Yes, she must feel a bit submerged by Italians,’ Dante said. ‘Mind you, she’s always been one of us, and the whole family loves her. My parents died when I was fifteen, and she’s been like a second mother to me ever since.’

‘Do you live here?’

‘No, I’m based in Milan, but I came south with them because I think there are business opportunities in the Naples area. So after looking around I might decide to stay.’

‘What do you do?’

‘I deal in property, specialising in unusual places, old houses that are difficult to sell.’

He yawned and they sat together in companionable silence. She felt drained and contented at the same time, separated from the whole universe on this train, thundering through the night.

Looking up, she saw that he was staring out into the darkness. She could see his reflection faintly in the window. His eyes were open and held a faraway expression, as though he could see something in the gloom that was hidden from her and which filled him with a melancholy intensity.

He looked back at her and smiled, rising reluctantly to his feet and holding out his hand. ‘Let’s go.’

At the door to her carriage, he paused and said gently, ‘Don’t worry about anything. I promise you, it’s all going to work out. Goodnight.’

Ferne slipped into the carriage, moving quietly so as not to waken Hope, who was asleep. In a moment she’d skimmed up the ladder and settled down in bed, staring into the night, wondering about the man she’d just left. He was likeable in a mad sort of way, and she didn’t mind spending some time in his company, as long as it was strictly casual.

But she didn’t brood. The rocking of the train was hypnotic, and she was soon asleep.

Next morning there was just time for a quick snack before they arrived. Hope looked eagerly out of the window, wondering which of her sons would meet them.

‘Justin’s in England and Luke’s in Rome,’ she said. ‘Carlo’s in Sicily and won’t be back for a couple of days. It’ll be one of the other three.’

In the end three sons were waiting at the station, waving and cheering as the train pulled in. They embraced their parents exuberantly, clapped Dante on the shoulder and eyed Ferne with interest.

‘These are Francesco, Ruggiero and Primo,’ Toni explained. ‘Don’t try to sort them out just now. We’ll do the introductions later.’

‘Ferne has had a misfortune and will be staying with us until it’s sorted out,’ Hope said. ‘Now, I’m longing to get home.’

There were two cars. Hope, Toni and Ferne rode in the first, driven by Francesco, while the other two brothers took Dante and the luggage in the second.

All the way home Hope looked eagerly out of the window, until at last she seized Ferne’s arm and said, ‘Look. That’s the Villa Rinucci.’

Ferne followed her gaze up to the top of a hill, on which was perched a large villa facing out over Naples and the sea. She was entranced by the place; it was bathed in golden sun, and looked as though it contained both beauty and safety.

As they grew nearer she saw that the house was larger than she’d realised at first. Trees surrounded it, but the villa was on slightly higher ground, so that it seemed to be growing out of the trees. A plump woman, followed by two buxom young girls, came out to watch the cars arriving, all waving eagerly.

‘That’s Elena, my housekeeper,’ Hope told Ferne. ‘The two girls are her nieces who are working here for a couple of weeks, because there will be so many of us—and plenty of children, I’m glad to say. I called Elena while we were still on the train, to tell her you were coming and would need a room.’

The next moment they stopped, the door was pulled open and Ferne was being shown up the steps onto the wide terrace that surrounded the house, and then inside.

‘Why don’t you go up to your room at once?’ Hope asked. ‘Come down when you’re ready and meet these villains I call my sons.’

‘These villains’ were smiling with pleasure at seeing their parents again and Ferne slipped away, understanding that they would want to be free of her for a while.

Her room was luxurious, with its own bathroom and a wide, comfortable-looking bed. Going to the window, she found she was at the front of the house, with a stunning view over the Bay of Naples. It was at its best just now, the water glittering in the morning sun, stretching away to the horizon, seeming to offer an infinity of pleasure and unknown delight.

Quickly she showered and changed into a dress of pale blue, cut on simple lines but fashionable. At least she would be able to hold her head up in elegant Italy.

She heard laughter from below, and looked out of the window to where the Rinucci family were seated around a rustic wooden table under the trees, talking and laughing in a gentle manner that made a sudden warmth come over her heart.

Her own family life had been happy but sparse. She was an only child, born to parents who were themselves only-children. One set of grandparents had died early, the other had emigrated to Australia.

Now her father was dead and her mother had gone to live with her own parents in Australia. Ferne could have gone too, but had chosen to stay in London to pursue a promising career. So there was only herself to blame that she was lonely, that there had been nobody to lend a sympathetic ear when the crash had come with Sandor Jayley.

There had been friends, of course, nights out with the girls that she’d genuinely enjoyed. But they were career women like herself, less inclined to sympathise than congratulate her on the coup she’d pulled off. She’d always returned to an empty flat, the silence and the memories.

But something told her that the Villa Rinucci was never truly empty, and she was assailed by delight as she gazed down at the little gathering.

Hope looked up and waved, signalling for her to join them, and Ferne hurried eagerly down the stairs and out onto the terrace. As she approached the table the young men stood up with an old-fashioned courtesy that she found charming, and Dante stepped forward to take her hand and lead her forward. Hope rose and kissed her.

‘This is the lady who joined us on the train and who will be staying with us for a while,’ she said.

She began to introduce the young men—first Primo, stepson from her first marriage, then Ruggiero, one of her sons by Toni. Both men were tall and dark. Primo’s face was slightly heavier, while Ruggiero’s features had a mobility that reminded her slightly of his cousin, Dante.

Francesco had a brooding quality, as though his mind carried some burden. Like the other two, he greeted her warmly, but then said, ‘I’d better go now, Mamma. I want to get home before Celia.’

‘Doesn’t she ever get suspicious about how often that happens?’ Hope asked.

‘Always, and she tells me to stop, but—’ He gave a resigned shrug. ‘I do it anyway.’ To Ferne he added, ‘My wife is blind, and she gets very cross if she thinks I’m fussing over her, but I can’t help it.’

‘Go on home,’ Hope told him. ‘Just be sure you’re at the party tomorrow.’

He embraced her fondly and departed. Almost at once another car appeared and disgorged two young women. One was dark, and so gracefully beautiful that even her pregnancy-bump couldn’t detract from her elegance. The other was fair, pretty in a way that was sensible rather than exotic, and was accompanied by an eager toddler.

‘This is my wife, Olympia,’ Primo said, drawing the pregnant woman forward to meet Ferne.

‘And this is my wife, Polly,’ Ruggiero said, indicating the fair young woman.

At this distance she could see that Polly too was pregnant, possibly about five months. Her husband’s attitude to her seemed protective, and again Ferne was pervaded by the feeling of contentment that she’d had earlier. Just being here, among people so happy to be together, was enough to create it.

It was soon time for lunch. Hope led the way indoors to inspect the meal Elena was preparing, taste things and give her opinion. In this she was joined not only by her daughters-in-law but her sons, who savoured the dishes and offered advice freely—sometimes too freely, as their mother informed them.

‘So it’s true what they say about Italian men,’ Ferne observed, amused.

‘What do they say about us?’ Dante murmured in her ear. ‘I’m longing to know.’

‘Why, that you’re all fantastic cooks, of course. What did you think I meant?’

He gave a disillusioned sigh. ‘Nothing, nothing. Yes, we’re all interested in cooking. Not like Englishmen, who eat sausage and mash on every occasion.’ Suddenly he looked closely at her face. ‘What is it?’ he asked. ‘Why are you looking troubled?’

‘I just suddenly thought—perhaps I should telephone the consulate. They might have some news by now.’

‘This afternoon I’ll drive you into Naples and we’ll visit the consulate here. They can get onto the Milan consulate. Now, let’s forget boring reality and concentrate on the important things—enjoying ourselves.’

‘Yes, let’s,’ she said happily.

Dante was as good as his word, borrowing Toni’s car after lunch and driving her down the hill through the streets of the old town until they reached their destination near the coast.

There the news was bleak. Neither her passport nor her credit cards had been recovered.

‘Considering how quickly they were reported, it looks as though someone made off with them,’ Dante observed. ‘But hopefully they won’t be any use to them.’

‘We can arrange a temporary passport,’ the young woman at the desk said. ‘But it will take a few days. There’s a kiosk over there for the photograph.’

‘No need, I’ll take it,’ Dante said. Eyeing Ferne’s bag, he added, ‘If you’ll lend me your camera.’

She handed it to him. ‘What made you so sure I had it?’

‘You told me you always had it. And the woman who was smart enough to record her lover’s infidelity wouldn’t miss a trick like this.’

She showed him how to work it, and they spent a few minutes out in the sun while she turned this way and that at his command.

‘Pull your blouse down this side,’ he said. ‘You’ve got pretty shoulders; let’s see them. Good. Now, shake your head so that your hair fluffs up.’

‘This is no good for passport pictures,’ she objected.

He grinned. ‘Who said anything about passport pictures? Maybe I have a wicked purpose of my own.’

Back inside, they switched the camera to ‘view’ and showed the results to the woman at the desk, who regarded them with saintly patience.

‘None of these are suitable. I think you should use the kiosk,’ she suggested.

‘We could have done that to start with,’ Ferne pointed out.

‘But then my wicked purpose wouldn’t have been fulfilled,’ Dante said unanswerably. ‘Come on; go into that kiosk and take some shots that make you look dreary and virtuous.’

‘Are you suggesting that I’m not dreary and virtuous?’

‘Which part of that question do you want me to answer?’

‘Let’s just get on with it,’ she said hastily.

When the formalities were complete, Dante took her to a café by the beach and they relaxed over coffee.

‘If you think the villa’s a madhouse now,’ he said, ‘wait until tomorrow when the rest of the family get here.’

‘There’s quite a lot of them, isn’t there? Six, I think Hope said.’

‘That’s right, although they don’t all live around here. Luke and Minnie will be coming from Rome. Justin and Evie from England, with Mark, Justin’s son, and their baby twins.’

A terrible thought struck Ferne. ‘Where will they be staying?’

‘At the villa, of course.’

‘And you’re there too, so whose room have I been given? Someone will end up sleeping on the sofa because of me, and I can’t have that. I’ve got to go.’

‘And stay where—in a hotel? With no money or paperwork?’

‘Well, if you could lend me some money I’ll pay it back…’

Dante shook his head firmly. ‘Sorry, no. To tell the hotel that you’re a trustworthy person, when actually I don’t know if you are, would be most improper. And we must always behave with propriety, mustn’t we?’

Despite her agitation, she couldn’t help laughing.

‘You,’ she said in a slow, deliberate voice, ‘wouldn’t recognise propriety if it came up and whacked you on the nose—which I am strongly tempted to do right now.’

‘Curses!’ he said theatrically. ‘She’s seen through me. All right, I’ll admit my true motive. I plan to keep you here, a prisoner, subject to my will. Cash would help you to escape, which doesn’t suit my evil purpose.’

‘I wonder if I can guess your evil purpose,’ she said dryly.

‘Well, I’m not exactly subtle, am I? But do I need to be? You’re in my power.’

‘In your dreams!’ she chuckled.

‘In those too,’ he said with a yearning look.

‘No, I didn’t mean—Oh, you know what I meant.’

‘Well, a man can dream, can’t he?’ he asked, eyeing her significantly.

‘He can dream all he likes, as long as he doesn’t confuse dreams with reality,’ she said, also significantly. ‘And you didn’t answer my question. Whose room have I been given?’

He didn’t reply, but his mouth twisted.

‘Oh no, please, don’t tell me…?’

‘If you feel that way, we could always share it,’ he suggested.

‘Will you just stop, please?’

‘All right, all right, don’t eat me. You can’t blame a man for trying.’

‘I can. I do.’

‘You wouldn’t if you could sit where I’m sitting, looking at you.’

She gave up. How could you talk sense to a man who had that wicked glint in his eyes?

But it could be fun finding out.