One Summer in Italy… Read online

  She had no difficulty in seeing Matteo’s hand behind this, and it made her relish the next stage of the battle even more. Squaring up to Matteo was becoming a pleasure in its own right.

  She heard the opening shots being fired when he informed her at breakfast the next morning that his car would call for her that evening at eight o’clock. She was about to protest at this way of taking her consent for granted when he leaned towards Liza, saying conspiratorially, ‘I’m showing Holly some of the city tonight, if you agree.’

  ‘I’m sure Liza would prefer that I remain with her,’ Holly said.

  ‘But you never enjoy yourself,’ Liza protested. ‘You should go out.’

  Having been outwitted, Holly gave up and merely asked, ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘You’ll see when we get there. But wear your black dress.’

  She didn’t even bother to argue. Besides, she was secretly longing to wear the black dress.

  Holly knew she was right when she saw herself in it that evening. Its slinky seductiveness suited her slim figure, making her feel good about herself as nothing had ever done before. Her make-up was discreet. She needed little artificial help tonight. Her whole being glowed.

  Carlo, the chauffeur, was ready on the dot, and handed her into the sleek black car. As they sped into Rome he said, ‘You enjoy the opera, signorina?’

  ‘We’re going to an opera house?’

  ‘In a sense. The judge is waiting for you at the Caracalla Baths.’

  ‘Baths?’ she echoed cautiously.

  ‘The Emperor Caracalla built a public bath complex nearly two thousand years ago. It’s a ruin now, but every summer there are performances of operas.’

  The light was fading fast by the time they entered the city, and her first view of the huge stone ruin was in floodlight. Before she had finished gazing with delight she saw Matteo, tall and elegant, standing by the kerb, waiting for her. He was in a dinner jacket and black bow-tie, and even in the crowds that thronged the streets he stood out as an impressive man.

  ‘Take the rest of the night off,’ he told the chauffeur as he handed Holly from the car.

  Close by was a small bar, and he led her inside. ‘We have time for a drink before the performance.’

  As she seated herself she was aware of him studying her with approval.

  ‘I see you resisted the temptation to send that dress back,’ he said. ‘I’m glad. I thought at the time that the black would suit you better than the red.’

  ‘At the time? You mean, on that first evening? Just how far ahead have you been planning?’

  He shrugged lightly. ‘No good lawyer allows himself to be outwitted by unforeseen events.’

  ‘So when I turned up in your compartment on the train, you had anticipated everything?’

  ‘Well-perhaps not quite everything,’ he conceded, smiling at her.

  She smiled back, enjoying the shared joke. But at once she wished she hadn’t. It simply wasn’t safe to laugh with this man and risk something irresistible coming into his eyes, with double the force as they met hers directly.

  Holly had a sudden mischievous urge to ask just how far ahead he had organised her life, and whether she would be allowed any say in it at all, but wisdom made her suppress it. They had a distance to travel yet and there would be time enough to tease him.

  ‘Which opera are we going to see?’ she asked, changing the subject to something safer.

  ‘It’s a concert tonight. I think you’ll enjoy it. It starts at nine o’clock, so we should be going soon.’

  Her first close look at the Caracalla Baths astonished her.

  ‘I thought it would be a sort of swimming pool,’ she said, looking around at the open-air theatre under the stars, the huge stage, flanked by two great, ancient brick columns.

  ‘It was a lot more than a swimming pool,’ he said, enjoying her awe. ‘There was a gymnasium, a sauna, a hot bath, a warm bath and a freezing bath. After that you got to swim in the pool, browse in the library or wander the grounds. Now all that’s left is a ruin-’

  ‘But what a ruin,’ she said, turning right round, and then again. ‘And all the grandees used to bathe here?’

  ‘Not just grandees. There would be nearly two thousand at a time. This place was for everyone. We Romans do things properly.’

  ‘We Romans,’ she said with a hint of teasing. ‘You make it sound as thought it’s all still happening.’

  ‘But it is,’ he said. ‘Look around you.’

  She did so, and saw how the crowds were pouring in, how the lights made the ruins vivid. After nearly two thousand years this place was alive in a way that many new buildings would never be.

  And so was the man looking at her with a vibrant intensity that she couldn’t dismiss. He threw everything else into shadow, and made her conscious of each part of herself, responding to him.

  The concert was a selection of light music, popular arias, bouncy overtures and Strauss waltzes. As the music washed over her, filling her with ease, Holly knew that Matteo had chosen perfectly. It was like being caught up in a delightful dream of which he was a cleverly unobtrusive part. She could sink into it or emerge from it, as she pleased.

  Now, she felt, she understood his plan. He was trying to enchant her, even to make her fall a little in love with him-and all to keep her reserved for himself and Liza.

  But she knew he had no idea of loving her in return. She had heard him say, ‘My heart is armoured, and nothing will change that.’ This was merely to keep her away from the attentions of other men. He would coax her just so far into love, then say, Stay there! as he might to an obedient dog.

  Cheeky, she thought, more amused than annoyed. But at least I know what you’re up to, so there’s no harm done. And I’ve discovered that I can play games, too.

  ‘Why are you smiling?’ he asked her as the applause died away.

  ‘Was I? I didn’t know.’

  ‘That makes it even more intriguing. You were wrapped up in some private thought of your own; one that fascinates you. Perhaps you are plotting something?’

  He paused, but she stayed silent, merely turning her smile directly onto him.

  ‘I see,’ he murmured with a slow nod. ‘You mean to pique my curiosity.’

  ‘What makes you think it has anything to do with you at all?’

  ‘I hope it has.’

  ‘Then you’re very conceited. My thoughts had drifted elsewhere. I apologise. Since you’re entertaining me it was rude of me to be thinking of other m-that is, of anyone…anything else.’

  She thought she’d managed that rather well. He thought so too because his eyes gleamed appreciation.

  ‘Not Bruno,’ he said. ‘Only promise me that. It would disappoint me to think you were yearning for that piece of trash.’

  ‘Not Bruno, I promise. In fact, it was Tomaso.’ She gave a wistful sigh. ‘I wonder how I managed to lose his interest so quickly. But you, who are his friend, can advise me how to win back his heart.’

  He raised her hand and brushed his lips against the back. ‘Magnificent,’ he whispered. ‘Your tactics are perfect.’

  ‘So is my strategy,’ she assured him.

  ‘Don’t tell me I’ve met a woman who actually knows the difference between tactics and strategy?’

  ‘Strategy is when the enemy is out of sight, and tactics are for when the enemy is right in front of you.’

  ‘And I’m the enemy?’

  ‘I don’t know. Are you?’

  ‘I haven’t quite decided.’

  Holly leaned back, regarding him with a slow, luxurious smile.

  ‘Neither have I,’ Holly assured him.

  The second half featured a well-known soprano singing of love betrayed. She was a superb performer, but Holly was untouched. Heartbreak was yesterday. Today led to tomorrow-and the next day…

  As they left the baths he said, ‘It’s only midnight. We have time for a little supper.’

  He made it sound like a spontane
ous decision but she wasn’t surprised when they reached the restaurant to find the table booked.

  He gave the order for food, then asked, ‘Do you have any preferences for wine?’

  ‘I should like to drink champagne, please. I have a special reason.’

  The champagne was served at once, and when they were alone again Matteo asked, ‘What are we celebrating?’

  ‘My freedom,’ she said, raising her glass with a sigh of delight. ‘I wasn’t sure of it until tonight, but now I am.’

  ‘Why tonight? What is it? Holly, why are you laughing? Am I being stupid about something?’

  There was an edgy note in his voice, as if she’d touched a nerve.

  ‘Not at all,’ she hastened to reassure him. ‘It’s just that we’re here, in public. If you can risk being seen with me, then I must be safe.’

  ‘I don’t think you have anything further to worry about. Bruno is no problem as long as he makes himself scarce, which he seems to be doing. Forget him. You’re here to have fun. How long since you last had any? The last time you saw him, I suppose.’

  ‘No,’ she said, suddenly realising. ‘Being with Bruno was heady and thrilling, but I was too tense to simply enjoy myself. Maybe I sensed even then that something else was going on.’ She gave a half-smile. ‘But that’s the beginning of wisdom, isn’t it? Knowing that something else is always going on.’

  ‘Perhaps not always,’ he said cautiously.

  ‘Oh, I think so. Or at least far more often than people realise, and usually with the last person you’d expect.’

  ‘But according to you it can be expected from everyone,’ he pointed out, watching her.

  ‘I’ve had time to learn from experience, and it’s very illuminating.’

  He didn’t answer at once, but she could feel the teasing humour die.

  ‘Yes, it is,’ he said heavily at last.

  ‘I can’t look back far enough to find an evening I’ve enjoyed like tonight. It’s as if you’ve given me a new world. You’re right. This was a wonderful idea. And practical, of course.’

  He was refilling her glass but he stopped, looking up in surprise.

  ‘Practical?’

  ‘Certainly. We need to talk about Liza, and it’s difficult at home because she’s such a sharp little thing that she always knows what’s going on, and wants to be part of it. So arranging to meet outside was a really clever idea on your part.’

  ‘I see. I was as clever as that, was I?’

  ‘Oh, yes. Of course, it helps that you’re a judge-having an businesslike mind, I mean.’

  He regarded her with ironic appreciation, and didn’t even try to find an answer to this. One up to her, she thought.

  ‘Now, about Liza,’ she resumed. ‘I think I’ve gone as far as I can on my own, but I need you to tell me a lot more, not just about her, but about her mother.’

  ‘Surely you can learn that from Liza herself,’ he said gruffly.

  ‘Not really. A little girl can’t know everything, even about herself. I know she’s trying to see her mother in me, but sooner or later she has to let go. If she starts telling herself that Mamma has somehow come back-well, that wouldn’t be good for her. I’m going carefully, feeling out each situation, one by one, but I’m groping in the dark.’

  ‘Then you’re doing something right by instinct,’ he said. ‘That book that you’re reading together-it belonged to Carol. She used to read it to Liza. She wanted her to be fluent in her own language as well as Italian.’

  ‘That was shrewd of her. We talk in English and Italian, and we’re both improving. Sometimes I think she’s teaching me more than I’m teaching her. That’s good for her. It helps her self-esteem.’

  He made a restless movement. ‘Carol used to say exactly the same,’ he said. ‘It’s almost eerie. You are exactly what Liza needs.’

  ‘But she needs you much more than me-’

  ‘She needs a mother-’

  ‘She needs a parent,’ Holly said firmly. ‘Liza’s lost one parent and she needs the other one more. I’m just a substitute, but you’re her father. You’re more necessary to her than anyone on earth.’

  ‘You talk as though I weren’t here-’

  ‘Sometimes I think you’re not-in any sense that matters. The other day she and I were in the garden, she was talking about you, and I’m sure you were there, standing close by in the bushes.’

  He nodded.

  ‘Then you must have heard what she said about you.’

  ‘Yes,’ he said quietly. ‘I heard.’

  ‘But you slipped away. I wish you hadn’t. If you’d come out, and put your arms around her and told her how much you loved her-it would have meant the world to her. Why do you never do that?’

  ‘How do you know that I never?’ he asked sharply. ‘You don’t always see us together.’

  ‘Are you any more demonstrative when I’m not there?’

  ‘No,’ he admitted. ‘I’m not a demonstrative man.’

  Recalling what she’d seen in the photographs, Holly didn’t believe this for a moment.

  ‘You demand a lot of understanding from an eight-year-old child,’ she said with a touch of anger. ‘What about what she wants? Why don’t you try understanding her? She needs to be reassured about your love, all the time, every minute, every second. She needs to see you as soon as possible in the morning and last thing before she falls asleep. She needs you to put your arms around her suddenly, spontaneously. She needs to look up and find you smiling at her. You could do all this once, so why is it so hard for you? I know you adore her, everyone says so…’

  His head went up.

  ‘Everyone?’ he echoed sharply. ‘Who have you been talking to? Who is this “everyone” who seems to know my private business? My staff, I suppose.’

  She cursed herself for being clumsy. She should have known this touchy character would resent being discussed behind his back. She tried to mitigate the damage.

  ‘Don’t blame them. They haven’t been gossiping, just trying to put me in the picture, which I appreciate. They all say how much you love her, what a devoted father you’ve always been.’

  ‘I’m sure they meant well,’ he said in a cool voice. ‘And so did you. Let us leave it there for the moment.’

  ‘But if we could only-’

  ‘I hadn’t realised how late it was. You must be longing for your bed, and I have a heavy day tomorrow. Waiter!’

  It was no use. The moment was over. The waiter called them a cab and a few minutes later they were on their way back to the villa. On the journey they talked about nothing in particular, and did it with great determination.

  It was only when the cab had gone and the doors of the villa had closed behind them that he said quietly, ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘I was clumsy-’

  ‘No, it was my fault,’ he said with a quick disclaiming gesture. ‘There are things it’s hard for me to speak of, or even think of, but I had no right to take it out on you.’

  ‘Do you want to go on talking now?’ she asked softly.

  They were standing in the half-lit hall and his face was in shadow, but she had the sense that he was on the verge of agreeing.

  ‘Matteo,’ she said, using his name for the first time, ‘can’t you trust me?’

  ‘Of course,’ he said slowly. ‘I do trust you-you know I do…’

  He took her hand and held it in his, as though there he would find something he needed.

  ‘Holly-’ he murmured, ‘Holly-if only…’

  Her heart lifted at what she heard in his voice. He continued to stare down at her hand as his fingers closed slowly over it. She clasped him back, suddenly filled with delighted expectancy.

  ‘Poppa!’

  The eager voice from above made them look sharply up, while their hands slipped away from each other.

  ‘Poppa!’ Liza stood on the landing, trembling with eagerness. ‘I thought you weren’t coming home.’

  She began to stump down the s
tairs, awkward on her bad leg. Matteo muttered something, rushing up to help her so that she fell into his outstretched arms.

  ‘What are you doing up at this hour?’ he chided gently. ‘You should be in bed and asleep.’

  ‘I was watching for you and Holly.’

  ‘I’m here,’ Holly said, starting to climb the stairs.

  ‘Oh, good,’ the little girl said.

  She was snuggled contentedly in her father’s arms and Holly sent up a silent prayer of gratitude that this had happened now, reinforcing what she had been trying to tell him. Surely he must see how his daughter loved and needed him?

  But as Liza buried her face against him, and he held her, he was staring into the distance, and Holly thought she had never seen so much despair in one man’s face.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  MATTEO might resist everything Holly was trying to tell him, but she had her first sign that he was listening to her next morning when he knocked on Liza’s door, calling, ‘Are you up yet?’

  Liza’s shriek of delight was answer enough. When Holly opened the door to him Liza held out her arms so that he could lift her and set her down in the wheelchair, which he took downstairs himself. After that breakfast was a happy meal, and before he left for work Matteo glanced at Holly with a question in his eyes, almost as if seeking her approval.

  Later that day he called her.

  ‘We might try again,’ he said, ‘and see if we manage better this time.’

  Her heart leapt, and it was only then that she understood how dull the world would have been without the prospect of going out with him again.

  Instead of sending a driver he collected her himself and drove to a small, discreet restaurant set on a hill, from which they could look across and see Rome in the distance. The view was magical; the faint glitter of the River Tiber, the floodlit dome of St Peter’s floating in the distance.

  This time they avoided dangerous subjects, enjoying the meal and talking on the light level of people who had nothing else to think of.

  ‘Another coffee?’ he asked at last.

  ‘Yes, please, I…’ She broke off, seeing that she had lost his attention, and looking at the man who’d raised his hand to Matteo. Then alarm seized her.