Lucy Gordon - Married Under the Italian Sun

‘Let’s go,’ he said. ‘Where’s the bill?’

‘I paid it,’ Angel said. She’d done that quietly, so that they could get out of there without delay.

A strange look crossed his face. ‘Of course you did,’ he said.

Once outside Vittorio crossed the road towards the beach and began to walk along it. His shoulders were hunched and he looked a completely different person from the happy man of only a few minutes ago.

‘You really scared me,’ she said, tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow. ‘I thought you were going to kill him.’

‘I might have done,’ he growled.

‘Why?’

‘Why?’ He turned to face her so abruptly that her hand fell away. ‘Why? Did you hear what he was saying?’

‘Yes, but so what? He’s a cheap lout. Who cares what he thinks?’ Then enlightenment dawned, or so she thought. ‘You’re not seriously worried that I think that, are you? Because I don’t.’

‘What he thinks, others will think,’ he growled. ‘And they’ll say I played a cynical game to win you over and recover what used to be mine.’

‘But I don’t think it. The others don’t matter because they don’t know what’s between us. But we know.’ For the first time something in his manner made her falter. ‘Don’t we?’

He stood before her, the moonlight on his face making it livid.

‘Do you remember how you once taunted me?’ he asked. ‘You said that you could play any part, and fool me. “I could say anything if I wanted to. How would you know the difference?” Those were your words. And they were true. You boasted of having a dozen techniques. “There’s a way to make a fool of almost any man. You just have to find what it is.”’

‘And you’re throwing that up against me now?’ she whispered, horrified.

‘No, I’m not. I know you well enough not to believe those words. But how well do you know me? Don’t you realise that I might have the same skills? I could say anything if I wanted to. How would you know the difference?’

‘Because I trust you,’ she cried.

‘Why? Because I told you that you could? Are you so sure I was telling the truth?’

‘Don’t!’ she screamed, turning away, her hands over her ears. ‘Don’t try to turn my trust against me. Don’t use my love as a weapon.’

‘I have to, because it’s the only weapon that can make you see the danger. Perhaps I’m sharper than you allowed for. I did it well, didn’t I? I made love to you so cleverly that I even got you to propose to me, and I did it without once telling you that I loved you.’

Angel was silent, stricken. It was true that he had never said it.

‘Are you saying that you don’t love me?’ she asked.

‘If I said that I did, would you know it was true?’

In the long silence that followed she felt the wind begin to whip around her, with a soft, moaning sound. How cold it was suddenly.

‘I thought I would-once,’ she said slowly.

He put his hands on her shoulders, drawing her close and speaking with his mouth almost against hers.

‘Do you know now?’ he murmured.

With her head swimming, Angel realised that she knew nothing. He could tell her any lie and convince her. But she had already accepted the risk, knowing in her heart that he was worth it. Why couldn’t he believe that about himself?

Or was it her that he couldn’t believe?

‘Vittorio-why are you doing this?’

‘Because I can see the future,’ he said simply. ‘When we have our first serious quarrel-and we’ll have it-it’ll be terrible because there’s a cruel devil in me.’

‘I know,’ she said softly.

‘And I’ll read in your eyes that you’re thinking the same as the rest of them, trying to guess how many lies I told you to serve my own ends, wondering if you were a fool to trust me. And then I’ll go mad.’

She stepped back sharply.

‘Oh, you coward,’ she breathed. ‘You talk about me trusting you, but it’s you who can’t trust me. It’s funny, isn’t it? Earlier we were talking about risks, and you said I must take the risk. Because you can’t take one.’

‘That’s not what I-’

‘No, it’s not what you meant, but it’s what I can understand. You’re not the only one who can see the future. You’ve just shown it to me. I’m not afraid to risk everything, but you are. I’d have taken any chance with you, and trusted you through thick and thin, but all you see is your neighbours sniggering. Well, I tell you this, if their opinion is so much more important to you than mine-then to hell with you!’

‘Angel, listen-’

‘I’ve listened enough and you have nothing to say that I care to hear.’ She took a step back. ‘You warned me once that you could only do things on your own terms. I should have listened.’ She sighed distractedly and ran a hand through her hair. ‘Let’s not talk any more now.’

‘I’ll drive you home.’

‘No, I’ll get a taxi. You have to start your journey early tomorrow, and when you come back-when you come back…’

‘Angel,’ he said, almost pleading.

‘I told you before, don’t call me Angel. It’s not who I am.’

‘Who are you?’ he said slowly.

‘I don’t know. I thought I did, but you’ve made me see so many new things-things I don’t like. I can’t talk now. Goodbye.’

Angel turned quickly and walked away across the sand. At this moment she wanted nothing so much as to get away from him. She had told him that she could see the future. She saw it now, and it broke her heart.

IT TOOK Vittorio two days to sort out Gino Tradini and get him to double his order at an increased price. As he’d suspected, the man had thought he could cheat Angel because she was new to the business. Vittorio took a bitter satisfaction in making it plain to him just how wrong he was. Then he drove home slowly, trying to decide exactly what he was going to say to her.

He had two speeches alternating in his mind. In one he told her that he agreed with her that they had no chance together. In the other he begged her to forget everything that had gone before, and simply love him and stay with him. He only wished he knew which one he was going to deliver.

But then he realised that he would know the answer only when he saw her.

As he neared the house he found himself looking for her, for she would surely be watching for him, and run to greet him. But there was only Luca, whom he had left here, and Toni. Together they swarmed over him, and he raised his voice to chide them fondly, thinking the sound would bring her out.

But there was no sign of her.

He went straight into the kitchen where Berta was making coffee.

‘I need to talk to the padrona at once. Where is she?’

She stared at him. ‘But-I thought you’d know. She’s gone.’

‘Gone where?’

‘I don’t know. Just gone. She left yesterday.’

‘But she must have told you something.’

‘She just packed her things and left. Wait-’

But Vittorio had already run out, heading up the stairs to her room. There he threw open the wardrobes one by one, finding each one empty. The drawers were also empty. There was nothing to suggest that she had ever been here.

He had returned half prepared to set a distance between them, but now the distance was there and it hit him like a blow in the face.

Berta came in to find him staring around at the bare room, his face ashen.

‘Did she leave me no message, Berta?’

‘She wants you to see this man,’ Berta said, holding out a card bearing the name Emilio Varini, partner in a firm of lawyers in Amalfi.

‘That’s all?’ he asked, aghast. ‘She sends me to a lawyer?’

Berta nodded.

‘I’ll go now,’ he said grimly.

Signor Varini’s office was on the waterfront. He was a small man, precise in physique as well as in manner. Vittorio had met him before when arranging a sale to one of his clients.

‘I’ve been expecting you, Signor Tazzini,’ he said. ‘I have something to give you.’

‘Where is Signora Clannan?’ Vittorio asked without preamble.

‘She did not inform me of her destination. She only asked me to talk to you, and give you this.’

He handed over a large envelope full of papers, which Vittorio spread on the desk. But the words danced before him and at first he could make no sense of them. When they did begin to form a pattern they conveyed a message so monstrous that his mind refused to recognise it.

‘What is this all about?’ he demanded.

‘I think the meaning is clear, signore. The Tazzini estate is yours again. The Signora Clannan has signed it over to you.’

‘What do you mean, signed it over to me?’

‘She has given it to you. The property is now entirely yours once more.’

Still his mind refused to function.

‘But she can’t just-how much does she want for it?’

‘She wants nothing. If you examine the documents you’ll see that you are now the legal owner of the estate.’

‘And you just let her do it?’ Vittorio demanded, outraged. ‘You let her give away everything she had?’

‘I naturally advised caution, but I couldn’t change her mind, and the property was hers to dispose of as she pleased.’

‘But didn’t she explain why?’

‘Yes, she said she didn’t need it any more.’

Now that Sam was dead, he thought with a sinking heart. Why hadn’t he seen this coming?

‘It was an emotional impulse,’ Vittorio said. ‘How can anyone do business that way? Of course I cannot accept. Please contact her at once and tell her that.’

‘But I can’t do that. I don’t know where she is.’

‘Call her mobile.’

‘She has changed the number.’

‘Then send her an e-mail.’

‘She’s changed her e-mail address. I have no way of contacting her at all.’

‘But that’s impossible. What happens if there’s an emergency?’