by Anne Mather
The colour scheme had been changed, she noticed. When she was here before, there had been a predominance of pink and white, whereas now, delicate shades of cream and gold were reflected in the figured satin bedspread and the rich, flowing curtains. The jumpsuit she was wearing might have been designed with these rooms in mind, she reflected drily, and, keeping her thoughts in this inconsequential vein, she went to wash her hands.
Lunch was a distinctly stiff affair, despite her own— and Ben's—efforts to the contrary, and she was quite glad when, after the meal, Ben invited his mother for a stroll. It enabled Cass to escape to her room, and after taking a cooling shower she lay down on the bed.
However, in spite of her attempt to relax, by early evening the headache which she had been fighting off all day had become quite unbearable. When Maria came to return the clothes she had taken away to press, she was most perturbed to find the young signora in some distress, and Cass found it incredibly difficult to reassure her. Wearing only the flimsy briefs which she had put on after her shower, her slender frame looked absurdly fragile, and she mistook Maria's open-mouthed concern for something else.
'Mamma mia!' the Italian woman exclaimed, clasping her hands to her chest, and staring at the girl as if she couldn't believe her eyes. 'Che c'é?'
'I've got a headache, that's all,' explained Cass tiredly, propping herself up on one elbow and looking down at her small breasts somewhat ruefully. 'I'm sorry if I'm embarrassing you, but it's so hot! I can't bear the covers over me. I seem to be burning up.'
'Is so?' Maria put down the clothes she was holding, and came rather tentatively over to the bed. Then, touching Cass's forehead with cautious hand, she uttered a cry. 'Dio mio! Tu sei calda!'
'I know,' said Cass weakly, but Maria was already scurrying out of the room. 'Oh, no!' Cass groaned, sinking back against the pillows. Now Sophia was going to be involved. All she had was a headache, for heaven's sake! Hadn't Maria the sense to understand that?
But when Sophia appeared she was not alone. Ben followed his mother into the room and, ignoring her horrified exclamation when she saw Cass's semi-nude body, he brushed past her and came to the bed.
'Cass!' he muttered, dropping down on to the bed beside her and covering her temples with his hands. 'You're on fire!'
'It's just a headache,' she whispered wearily, shifting restlessly beneath his hands, and as she did so Sophia's fingers grasped Ben's arm.
'This is not the place for you, Benvenuto!' she snapped angrily. 'Come, let me see what is wrong. If the girl is sick, she needs the dottore, not you.'
'I'm not ill,' persisted Cass, half tearfully. 'Ben, all I need is a couple of aspirin. I'll be all right in the morning.'
'Will you?' The compassion in his dark eyes was almost her undoing, and she had to restrain herself from throwing herself into his arms.
'Yes.'
'Benvenuto, this is intolerable! Will you get out of here, or must I call Carlo and ask him to eject you?'
The idea of the elderly little Italian gardener being able to eject a man of Ben's size and strength was ludicrous, but her words had the desired sobering effect.
'I'll call Lorenzo,' declared Ben, getting to his feet with some reluctance, and the tears Cass had been suppressing would no longer be denied.
'I—I don't need a doctor,' she insisted, but Ben only shook his head.
'I think perhaps you do, cara,' he disagreed ruefully, and, dragging his gaze from hers he went out of the room.
In actual fact, Cass didn't remember much of the next forty-eight hours. The doctor who arrived with amazing promptness assured her that she was not wasting his time. On the contrary, in his opinion she had caught a chill, and in spite of her protests she was wrapped in an old flannelette nightgown of Maria's, and covered with several layers of blankets.
She didn't know much about the medication she was given; all she remembered was the pain in her head, which moved to her chest, and the blessed relief that came from losing consciousness. She hadn't the strength to keep her eyes open, even when she was conscious, and images of Ben, Sophia, Maria and the doctor moved in and out of her vision, without her really knowing if they were real or imagined. She knew someone was looking after her, caring for her bodily functions and changing the bedlinen when it became drenched with the perspiration that poured out of her, but she was too weak to thank them. Day and night fused together in a mindless blend of misery, and there were times when she wished they would just leave her alone and let her die.
But she didn't die. Slowly but surely her body's immune system exerted itself, and presently, when Maria came to spoon chicken broth into her mouth, she didn't find it totally nauseating. On the contrary, by the end of the third day of her illness, she was actually able to hold the cup herself, and swallow the creamy broth with real enjoyment. She was even able to appreciate the sunset that was streaking the sky beyond her windows with vivid shades of red and amber, and acknowledge that in spite of everything she was glad to be alive.
Sophia appeared as Maria was tidying the bed, and Cass curled one fist inside the other as Ben's mother approached her. She wasn't sure that she was up to dealing with her old adversary yet, but she forced a tight smile to her lips and offered a tentative word of gratitude. After all, this was Sophia's house, and she was only a visitor here. It would have been quite reasonable for Sophia to insist she be taken to hospital to be treated; but she hadn't, and Cass was grateful.
'Prego,' declared the older woman indifferently. 'I am glad to see you are feeling better.' She waited until Maria had left the room, and then pulled a chair to the side of the bed. 'Can I get you anything?'
Cass shook her head. 'No. No, thank you. I'm fine.' She indicated the thin blanket which was all she needed now. 'I feel much cooler.'
'But not cold?' suggested Sophia swiftly, and Cass shook her head again.
'Just—comfortable,' she conceded. 'Thank goodness! That was some chill.'
'It was—how do you say it? Polmonite.'
'Polmonite?'
Cass didn't understand, and she jumped violently when a disturbingly familiar voice said softly, 'Pneumonia. You've had a mild form of pneumonia. It's lucky you were here, and not at the Villa Regina!'
'Benvenuto! What are you doing here?'
The impatience in his mother's voice was unmistakable, but Ben was not perturbed. 'The same as you, I expect, Mamma,' he replied evenly, coming to stand behind her chair. 'To see Cass—and to tell her about her father. You did intend to tell her Guido had phoned, didn't you?' He smiled at the angry look she turned in his direction. 'I thought so.'
Cass frowned a little anxiously. 'Daddy phoned?' she exclaimed. 'When?'
'Yesterday,' said Ben, before his mother could answer. His eyes on Cass were disturbingly gentle. 'How do you feel?'
'She is feeling much better,' declared Sophia tersely. 'And you know how I feel about you being in your sister's bedroom, Benvenuto. I wish you would go!'
Ben's eyes darkened as he looked at her, and his mouth lost its sensuous curve. 'Yes, I know how you feel, Mother,' he agreed tautly. 'But as Cass is obviously still very weak, I wanted to make sure you didn't upset her.'
'Benvenuto!'
Ben shrugged, unrepentant. 'Well, it's true.' He transferred his gaze to Cass's pale face. 'Your father just wanted to make sure you were all right.'
Cass swallowed. 'You told him I was ill?'
'No.' Sophia cast her son another furious look. 'Apparently, Roger—'
'Not now, Mother.'
Ben's hand on his mother's shoulder had the desired effect, and she pursed her lips irritably, but Cass wanted to know what she had been going to say.
'Roger?' she said unsteadily, looking up at Ben. 'What about Roger?'
Ben's fingers must have bit into his mother's shoulders before he removed them, because she winced. But he couldn't take back her words, and he knew it.
'Roger's told your father where you are,' he in
formed Cass reluctantly. 'That's all. Just where you are.'
Cass struggled up on her pillows. 'And—and what did Daddy say?'
Ben groaned. 'Nothing of importance,' he assured her firmly, coming round his mother's chair and squatting down beside the bed. He took one of her nervous hands between both of his and smiled encouragingly at her. 'Honestly. He just wanted to assure himself that you really were here.'
Cass quivered, the warmth of his fingers disturbingly intimate in spite of his mother's presence. 'And—and did you tell him I was ill?'
'We had to,' cut in Sophia curtly, getting to her feet and forcing Ben to do the same. 'He is your father, in fin dei conti.'
'Yes.' Compelled by Sophia's reproving gaze, Cass drew her hand away from Ben's, and tucked it under the covers again. 'Yes, of course. Was he angry?'
'Angry?' Ben made a sound of impatience. 'No, of course he wasn't angry. He was concerned. He—well,' he looked narrowly at his mother, 'he wants to come and see you.'
'No!' Cass knew she didn't have the strength to cope with her father at the moment. She had no doubt that both he and her mother were concerned about her, but she also knew that he would not be able to come here without bringing up the subject of her separation from Roger, and that was something she couldn't face right now.
'But, Cassandra—' began Sophia protestingly, only to have her words interrupted once again by her son.
'That's what I thought you'd say,' Ben declared flatly. 'And that's what I told him. I said you'd get in touch with him as soon as you were on your feet again. By telephone.'
Cass sighed weakly. 'Oh, thank goodness!'
'I just hope Guido understands that I had no part in this—this sotterfugio!' Sophia muttered. Then, after another warning glance from her son, she shrugged. 'Bene, you are old enough to know what you are doing, I suppose. And who am I to plead Guido's cause? Has he ever pleaded mine?'
Cass caught her lower lip between her teeth, wishing Sophia would go so that she could talk to Ben alone, but that was clearly not to be.
'I think we should let Cassandra rest now,' the older woman suggested pointedly, taking her son's arm and guiding him towards the door. 'She has had quite enough excitement for the moment, and don't forget, you have to leave very early in the morning.'
'You're leaving?' Cass couldn't keep the note of desperation out of her voice as she endeavoured to raise herself on her elbows, and Ben heaved a sigh.
'I have to,' he said quietly. 'I've already spent much longer here than I had intended, and Victor's leaving for the States on Monday. I want to see him before he goes, and there's not a lot of time.'
'I see.' Cass slumped back against the pillows. She wanted to ask him when—if—he was coming back, but with Sophia logging their every move she didn't have the nerve. 'Well, take care.'
'I will.' Ben released himself from his mother's grasp, but he didn't come back to the bed. 'You, too. Don't overdo things. The doctor says it will be several weeks before you recover your strength.'
Cass nodded, pressing her lips together to prevent his mother from seeing how upset she was, and with a reassuring smile Ben followed Sophia out of the room.
Cass heard the Porsche leave the following morning. The sound of its powerful engine was unmistakable, and as she had been lying awake for most of the night it was not surprising that she heard the car accelerating up the track to the main road. It was then that the tears came, and she was glad there was no one around to witness her foolish collapse.
All the same, she had thought that he might come and see her once again before he left. Talking to him in his mother's presence had not been a very satisfactory arrangement, and, although she knew there was really nothing more to say, she was desperate enough to hope.
But he had gone without even saying goodbye, and she had no idea when she was likely to see him again. He might ring, of course, but as his mother was sure to answer the phone that too was an unsatisfactory proposition. Sophia was unlikely to encourage their friendship, in the present situation. She hadn't said anything yet, but Cass knew her views on the sanctity of marriage, and she was unlikely to be sympathetic.
It was a depressing situation, and she half wished she was still sick enough to require constant medication. At least in that trance-like state between the conscious and subconscious worlds she had felt no pain.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THREE weeks later, Cass rolled over on to her stomach to expose her back to the delicious warmth of the sun. The cove below the villa was the perfect suntrap, and as it was only accessible from the cliffs above it was invariably deserted. The occupants of the neighbouring villas were, for the most part, like Sophia Scorcese, middle-aged to elderly residents, to whom the climb both up as well as down the cliffs was irksome. In consequence, Cass often sunbathed completely nude, and her slim body had acquired an all-over, honey-gold tan.
She was feeling so much better, too. Three weeks of Sophia's cooking had wrought a definite improvement and, although her appetite was by no means large, she was eating, which was itself a transformation. Already the pepper and salt hollows had disappeared from her throat, and her whole body was acquiring a healthy coating of flesh. She wished Ben could see her, she was sure he would notice the difference; but since he'd left Calvado twenty-two days ago, she had heard nothing from him.
At first it had been hard to reconcile herself to his absence, and she knew Sophia had kept a close eye on her, as if she suspected Cass might find some way to communicate with Ben behind her back. But gradually Sophia had had to accept that coming here had been her decision, not Ben's, and the sooner she realised she was on her own now, the better.
But it was hard, and even now every nerve in her body quivered every time a car came down the wooded track. Not that any of the cars ever stopped at the Villa Andrea—except the old Fiat belonging to Dr Lorenzo, that was. The doctor had come every day at first, but now he limited his visits to twice weekly. Although, Cass suspected, he had enjoyed coming more frequently, if only to sample Sophia's home-made ice-cream.
Her father had phoned several times, without waiting for her to phone him. But in the beginning Sophia had been surprisingly understanding, and made no bones about telling him that Cass wasn't well enough to come to the phone. 'She will phone you when she is stronger,' she had informed him stiffly, and Guido had had to be content with that.
When Cass did get to speak to him, however, he was remarkably sympathetic. He had been worried about her, that was obvious, and it had evidently hurt him that she should have chosen Ben to confide in and not himself.
'We could have worked something out, cara,' he exclaimed, after assuring himself that her health was no longer in jeopardy. 'Poor Roger, he is distrait! He misses you terribly.'
'Does he?' Cass was tempted to tell her father exactly how much Roger was missing her, but now was not the time to get into personal matters of that sort.
'But of course,' Guido insisted now. 'He loves you, cara. Oh, I know that sometimes he acts a little foolishly, but his heart is in the right place, no?'
'If you say so.'
Cass was non-committal, and she heard her father heave a sigh. 'Very well,' he said evenly. 'Perhaps you do need a little time away from one another. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, is that not what your mother says? Have your holiday, figlia. Enjoy yourself. And when you are ready, we will talk again.'
'Yes, Daddy.'
Cass was so relieved to escape so easily that his next words didn't immediately register, and he had to repeat them for her.
'You can tell Ben I shall expect a full explanation from him, also,' Guido declared smoothly. 'I am not at all convinced that this was all your own idea. Just remind him of his responsibilities, will you?'
'But, Daddy—'
But her father had rung off, and Cass replaced her receiver with a wry expression. Trust Guido Scorcese to have the last word, she thought somewhat mutinously. And, as usual, he had found someone else to
blame.
It was the day after this conversation with her father that Ben's mother brought up the subject Cass had been trying to avoid. Since her illness and subsequent convalescence, she had hoped Sophia had decided to boycott the question of her marriage, but she should have known better. Evidently the Italian woman had only been biding her time until Cass was completely well again, and she apparently thought that if she was well enough to speak to her father, she was well enough to speak to her. Consequently, in the middle of supper that evening, she asked the girl outright what she intended to do when she left Calvado.
'I'm not sure.' Cass was not prepared for this, and her brain felt as organised as a sponge. 'I—need time.'
'How much time?' Sophia was not sympathetic now. She was distinctly unsympathetic, and Cass wished Ben was there to act as mediator.
But then she realised that this was exactly the kind of situation she was going to have to deal with from now on. If she ever hoped to make a life for herself, she was going to have to find the strength to defend her own decisions. Ben was not going to be around to help her. She had to accept that. And if she intended to stand up to her father, surely she could stand up to Sophia.
'I don't know,' she said now, determinedly helping herself to more of the delicious peppered kidneys that Sophia had made into a tasty ragout. 'A few weeks, maybe.'
Sophia's lips compressed. 'Then you have not yet decided on divorce?'
Cass hesitated. 'No.'
'Good.' Sophia's expression softened a little. 'Marriage is not something that should be taken lightly. I know.'
Cass inclined her head, unwilling to get involved in any discussion of her parents' marriage, and after a few moments Sophia spoke again. 'But you realise that by coming here you have jeopardised Benvenuto's relationship with his father, do you not?' she exclaimed. 'It is obvious that Guido will blame Benvenuto for encouraging you in this. And bringing you here!' She snorted. 'He already blames me for Benvenuto's decision to refuse his inheritance.'