Accidentally Expecting! Read online

  ‘I’ll pay every penny back,’ she vowed.

  ‘Hush! Now you’re getting boring.’

  Fearing that he might be right, she swigged some more water. It felt good.

  ‘You seem to be having a very disorganised holiday,’ he observed. ‘Have you been planning it for long?’

  ‘I didn’t plan it at all, just hurled a few things into a bag and flounced off.’

  ‘That sounds promising. You said you’re a photographer…’ He waited hopefully.

  ‘I specialise in the theatre, and film stills. He’s an actor, starring in a West End play. Or, at least, he was in a West End play until-’

  ‘You can’t stop there!’ he protested. ‘Just when it’s getting interesting.’

  ‘I was taking the pics. We had a thing going-and, well, I didn’t expect eternal fidelity-but I did expect his full attention while we were together.’

  ‘A reasonable desire,’ her companion said solemnly.

  ‘So I thought, but an actress in the play started flashing her eyes at him. I think she saw him chiefly as a career step-up-Oh, I don’t know, though. To be fair, he’s very handsome.’

  ‘Well known?’ Dante asked.

  ‘Sandor Jayley.’

  Dante’s eyes widened.

  ‘I saw one of his films on television the other day,’ he said. ‘He’s supposed to be headed for even greater things.’ He assumed a declamatory voice. ‘The man whose embrace all women dream of-whose merest look-’

  ‘Oh, shut up!’ she said through laughter. ‘I can’t keep a straight face at that twaddle, which used to really annoy him.’

  ‘He took it seriously?’

  ‘Yes. Mind you, he has plenty going for him.’

  ‘Looks, allure…?’

  ‘Dazzling smile, more charm than was good for him-or for me. Just the usual stuff. Nothing, really.’

  ‘Yes, it doesn’t amount to much,’ he agreed. ‘You have to wonder why people make such a fuss about it.’

  They nodded in solemn accord.

  He yawned suddenly, turning so that he was half-sideways and could raise one foot onto the seat beside him; he rested an arm on it and leaned his head back. Ferne studied him a moment, noticing the relaxed grace of his tall, lean body. His shirt was open at the throat, enough to reveal part of his smooth chest; his black hair was slightly on the long side.

  She had to admit that he had ‘the usual stuff’, with plenty to spare. His face was not only handsome but intriguing, with well-defined, angular features, dark, wicked eyes and a look of fierce, humorous intelligence.

  Quirky, she thought, considering him with a professional gaze. Always about to do or say something unexpected. That was what she’d try to bring out if she were taking his photograph.

  Suddenly he looked at her, and the gleaming look was intense.

  ‘So, tell me about it,’ he said.

  ‘Where do I start?’ She sighed. ‘The beginning, when I was starry-eyed and stupid, or later, when he was shocked by my “unprincipled vulgarity”?’

  Dante was immediately alert.

  ‘Unprincipled and vulgar, hmm? That sounds interesting. Don’t stop.’

  ‘I met Tommy when I was hired to take the photographs for the play-’

  ‘Tommy?’

  ‘Sandor. His real name is Tommy Wiggs.’

  ‘I can see why he changed it. But I want to know how you were unprincipled and vulgar.’

  ‘You’ll have to wait for that bit.’

  ‘Spoilsport!’

  ‘Where was I? Ah, yes, taking pictures for the play. Thinking back, I guess he set out to make me fall for him because he reckoned it would give an extra something to the photographs. So he took me to dinner and dazzled me.’

  ‘And you were taken in by actorly charm?’ Dante asked, frowning a little, as though he found it hard to believe.

  ‘No, he was cleverer than that. He made a great play of switching off the actor and just being himself, as he put it, saying he wanted to use his real name because Sandor was for the masses. The man inside was Tommy.’ Seeing his face, she said, ‘Yes, it makes me feel a bit queasy too, but that night it was charming.

  ‘The thing is, Tommy was made to be a film actor, not a stage actor. He’s more impressive in close-up, and the closer you get the better he seems.’

  ‘And he made sure you got very close?’

  ‘Not that night,’ she murmured, ‘but eventually.’

  She fell silent, remembering moments that had been sweet at the time but in retrospect felt ridiculous. How easily she’d fallen, and how glad she was to be out of it now. Yet there had been other times that she still remembered with pleasure, however mistakenly.

  Dante watched her face, reading it without difficulty, and his eyes darkened. He raised a hand to summon the attendant, and when Ferne looked up she found Dante filling a glass of champagne for her.

  ‘I felt you needed it after all,’ he said.

  ‘Yes,’ she murmured. ‘Maybe I do.’

  ‘So what was the film actor doing in a play?’ Dante asked.

  ‘He felt that people didn’t take him seriously.’

  ‘Heaven help us! One of them. They make a career out of being eye candy but it’s not enough. They want to be respected.’

  ‘You’ve got him to a T,’ Ferne chuckled. ‘Are you sure you don’t know him?’

  ‘No, but I’ve met plenty like him. Some of the houses I sell belong to that kind of person-“full of themselves”, I believe is the English expression.’

  ‘That’s it. Someone persuaded him that if he did a bit of Shakespeare everyone would be impressed, so he agreed to star in Antony and Cleopatra.’

  ‘Playing Antony, the great lover?’

  ‘Yes. But I think part of the attraction was the fact that Antony was an ancient Roman, so he had to wear little, short tunics that showed off his bare legs. He’s got very good legs. He even made the costume department take the tunics up a couple of inches to show off his thighs.’

  Dante choked with laughter.

  ‘It was very much an edited version of the play because he couldn’t remember all the long speeches,’ Ferne recalled. ‘Mind you, he made them shorten Cleopatra’s speeches even more.’

  ‘In case she took too much of the spotlight?’ Dante hazarded a guess.

  ‘Right. He wasn’t going to have that. Not that it really mattered, because everyone was looking at his thighs.’

  ‘I don’t think you’re exactly heartbroken,’ Dante commanded, watching her intently.

  ‘Certainly not,’ she said quickly. ‘It was ridiculous, really. Just showbusiness. Or life.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘It’s all a performance of one kind or another. We each live by pretending something’s true when we really know it isn’t, or not true when we know it is.’

  A strange look came into his eyes, as though her words carried a particular resonance. He seemed about to say something, but then backed off. She had the impression that a corner of the curtain to his mind had been raised, then dropped hastily.

  So there was more to him than the charming clown, she thought. He presented that aspect to the world, but behind it was another man who hid himself away and kept everyone else out. Intrigued, she wondered how easy it would be to reach behind his defences.

  The next moment he gave her the answer.

  Seeing her watching him, he closed his eyes, shutting her out completely.

  CHAPTER TWO

  S UDDENLY 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 tal
k 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.