by Iris Danbury
‘Naturally I won’t say anything about it.’
‘We’ll wait until we’ve something definite started. Then I’ll tell Emilia.’
After a pause Althea asked, ‘When you have a shop, would you want to continue living here or find some place of your own?’
Her father gazed out into the garden before answering. ‘I’m not sure. We shall have to settle that question when the time comes. I’m very comfortable here and I hope you are.’
‘Could hardly be better from my point of view,’ she said. ‘We’ve practically a little villa to ourselves and at the same time there are other people around.’
She did not ask why he wanted a certain amount of secrecy. No doubt he had his reasons and would reveal them in due time.
‘And Kent? You don’t mind if he knows?’
‘No harm there. He’ll be discreet. Besides, if we want help from him, we’ll have to be frank and honest with him.’
When Althea accompanied her father later during the morning on his walk to the centre of Anacapri, she suggested that he might like to look at the new shops. Some were already open, including a studio where a young English artist was arranging his works. Althea could not resist stopping to gaze at the colourful scenes, the glimpses of narrow streets, the translucent coast views or a portrait of an old woman tanned and wrinkled by more than sixty summers.
The Bucklands stopped for a few minutes to chat to the young artist. His name was Brian Telford, he told them, and he had lived in Capri for two years.
‘I’m a bit like the German who dashed over from Naples one afternoon to visit the Blue Grotto and stayed here for forty years! I came here the first time for a summer vacation, but the next year I stayed all the summer. Finally, I gave up the struggle and settled here.’
Althea hoped his new venture would succeed. ‘I suppose you had a studio somewhere in Capri?’
‘Really only one-third of a very narrow and dark little shop. If I can’t make a living here, I shall ha-e to auction my paintings off to pay the rent.’ He laughed in the face of such a prospect.
Builders were still working on some of the adjacent shops and Lawrence inspected a couple. He made no comment until he and Althea had walked a few yards away.
‘One of those might do very well, but I shall have to study the question of cost. There’s no sense on throwing money away on an expensive shop, when it’s the goods you have to sell that really matter.’
On their return to the little piazza in the centre of Anacapri Kent waved to them. He was sitting at a table outside one of the cafes.
Althea was not sure that she wanted to accept his invitation to join him for a drink, but her father was eager to talk to him, so she had no option.
In a few moments the two men were deep in discussion of Lawrence Buckland’s new project and Kent listened, putting in a word or two or asking a question.
Althea took the first opportunity to butt in. ‘I have to persuade my father not to become too eager and over-excited about his new toy. Before long he’ll be working all hours.’ Lawrence laughed. ‘You see what a dragon daughter I have, Kent. She’d harness me down like a small boy ©n leading reins, if she could.’
‘It’s your old harness that I’m afraid of,’ she retorted.
Kent smiled. ‘Then it seems that if things go well, you’ll both be staying indefinitely on the island?’
‘Oh yes,’ answered Lawrence. ‘I’m charmed with the place—and I have several reasons for wanting to stay.’
‘I hope the prospect doesn’t displease you,’ Althea said to Kent. ‘I promise I won’t go near your villa in your absence and tumble to a suicidal end over your precipice.’
‘You’d better not. Might be no one to catch you when you fall.’ His face had taken on a more sombre expression.
‘I’m sorry we missed you yesterday, Cristo and I,’ she said quickly while she had the chance. ‘We hadn’t really gone off on our own. We were at the cafe on the other side of the square and we didn’t see you and Carla leave the professor’s house or the taxi drive off.’
He gave her a cool, indifferent glance as though he had not really been listening to her explanation.
‘Didn’t matter,’ he said brusquely. ‘You were quite free to make other plans if you wished.’
‘But it wasn’t what I wanted to do,’ she persisted.
‘Then Cristo must have been persuasive.’ His tone was frankly jeering now and she gave up the unequal struggle. She could not openly spar with Kent while her father sat at the table, although he was staring across the piazza, lost in dreams of the future and probably had not heard a word of this scrap of conversation.
A moment or two went by in silence. Then Kent said, ‘If I’m not mistaken, here comes Cristo now.’
The young Italian approached their table. ‘Buon giorno,’ he said affably enough to the two Bucklands, but deliberately excluded Kent.
Kent ordered some more coffees, but when the waiter brought them, Lawrence suddenly saw Dr. Fortini crossing the square and went out to greet him.
Althea was the reverse of delighted at being left with these two men, who maintained between them an undercurrent of growling menace like a couple of dogs bristling at the sight of each other.
‘I hear you were successful yesterday in persuading the old maestro to take Carla as a pupil,’ Cristo remarked.
‘No persuasion on my part. Carla’s own voice was all that mattered.’ It was plain that Kent resented the notion that Carla was his protégée.
Cristo stretched out his legs and leaned idly back in his chair. ‘Althea and I felt we couldn’t sit about waiting who knows how long for the verdict, so we made other arrangements and had a very enjoyable day.’
‘Indeed! I’m glad to hear it.’ Kent’s voice was icily lacking in joy.
‘Yes. We lunched at the Regina, then I was able to show Althea several parts of Naples. In the evening we went to that new cabaret show near the harbour. That was very amusing.’ Cristo chuckled as though in recollection.
Kent stood up as Althea protested, ‘Cristo! That’s not right at all!’
‘Give your father my apologies, Althea,’ Kent growled. ‘I must go now.’ He put money on the table to pay for the drinks and in a few strides was far along the street.
Althea glared in silence at first at Cristo. Then, controlling her indignation, she burst out in an angry, quiet tone, ‘How dare you give him such a tale! You know it wasn’t anything like the truth.’
‘It was not very far away from the truth,’ murmured Cristo, a smile playing around his lips.
‘A long way out,’ she declared hotly. ‘You wouldn’t have said anything about staying in Naples for a cabaret if my father had been here at the table. He knew we came home for dinner.’
Cristo shrugged. ‘What matter? Carla told me he took her dancing last night, so I told him about the cabaret—’
‘—which we did not visit,’ she cut in.
He smiled. ‘No, but I like to let him know that he can’t have all the girls all the time.’ He turned towards Althea and folded his arms on the table and gazed intently at her face. ‘Besides, you also treated me badly last night. You would not stay with me after dinner or walk in the garden or show me any kindness.’
Althea longed to say that she had far more sense. Instead, she retorted, ‘My father had been alone all day and I wanted to talk to him.’
‘More than you wanted to talk to me?’
She returned his frank stare. ‘At that moment, yes.’
‘Then that means that sometimes you will prefer me?’
She shook her head and laughed. ‘I didn’t say that at all.’ Her attitude towards him softened. In some ways he was young and vulnerable, unless that was a very clever pose on his part. He probably could not help his naturally ardent nature. ‘I just wish you hadn’t told Kent a different version from the one I’d already told him.’
His black eyes danced. ‘Then it matters to you what he thinks?’
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‘Not particularly.’ Althea spoke with an indifference that she did not feel, for it mattered considerably that Kent should not believe she would stoop to petty lies.
‘I shall take you one morning to the Blue Grotto,’ Cristo promised.
But Althea was relieved when that particular invitation came to nothing, for the next day the wind ruffled the sea too much to enter the Grotto and the day after that Cristo had to leave for home.
Signora Marchetti planned a special farewell dinner the night before Cristo’s departure and there was much laughter and excitement, for it was also to celebrate Carla’s acceptance as the maestro’s pupil.
‘Tomorrow we will all go by the boat together,’ Carla informed the company, ‘I for my first lesson, Althea as my chaperone and Cristo to be sent off to Rome.’
After dinner the party sat for a long time on the terrace. Signora Emilia and Lawrence chatted quietly together and Althea was reasonably content that Cristo’s present visit to the Marchettis was nearly at an end. Living in Rome, he could surely not come here too frequently, although she had heard that he might be over for a week-end here and there.
The sun sank into the now purple sea and in a short time twilight darkened the sky and the lights of Naples glittered like a handful of jewellery carelessly thrown down on the mountainside.
Emilia and Lawrence decided to go indoors. It was then that Althea discovered that Carla was missing.
‘Has she gone indoors?’ Althea queried.
Cristo shook his head. ‘No. She has not been with us for more than half an hour and you did not notice. That pleases me very much, for it shows that you were content to listen to me when I spoke.’
A vague disquiet attacked Althea. ‘But where has she gone?’
‘To the Englishman’s villa. His home, his castle—so he thinks.’
Althea jumped to her feet ‘But she knows that her mother does not approve.’
Cristo caught her hand and detained her before she could move away. ‘There is no harm in Carla going to visit him. Why do you care? Is it because you are jealous?’
‘Jealous? Of course I’m not jealous. But Carla should not ‘
‘Should not visit him so that he can make love to her? If you are jealous, then I should also be jealous because you think of him and not me.’
Althea wrenched her hand away. ‘I’m not thinking of either you or Kent, but Carla. Her mother will be so angry if she finds out and then will probably stop Carla going to Naples for the lessons.’
She ran swiftly along the terrace, down the steps and towards the path that led to the Villa Castagna. But soon she had to slow her pace, for the path was rough and in the dark she could scarcely see the stones and boulders.
Cristo caught her up. ‘You are foolish, carissima. But if you must go, then I will come with you.’ He linked her arm firmly in his and she was forced to accept his help, for she could not run away without the risk of a twisted ankle.
At a point about mid-way between the two villas a clump of chestnut trees overhung the path. Although now isolated from Kent’s villa, they had probably at some former time been part of the chestnut grove, from which the Villa Castagna took its name. In the shadow of this small cluster, Cristo suddenly swung Althea towards him in a stifling embrace. His kisses, rained on her lips, her cheeks and neck, were savage in their intensity and she could only strain away from him, gasping for breath. He had pinioned her arms behind her back, but she managed to stamp on one of his feet and in the moment of his involuntary release, she tore herself free.
At that instant she became aware that two people were only a couple of yards away—Carla and Kent.
Carla began to giggle. ‘We would have gone away and pretended not to see you, but you were blocking the path.’
Althea was furious. ‘I came to meet you, to try to—’ she began almost incoherently.
‘Sorry if we interrupted the fond farewells,’ drawled Kent in his laziest, most cutting tones.
‘I came to bring Carla home,’ snapped Althea. ‘However much you may think you’re in Signora Marchetti’s good graces and favour at the moment, you know perfectly well that she will not tolerate going at night to visit you.’
‘You seem to have made it very much your business, Althea,’ Kent said coolly. ‘Are you putting on a rescuing act? I assure you that’s not at all necessary. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll continue on my way, escorting Carla home, and minding my own business. I’ll leave you and Cristo to yours.’
‘Ciao,’’ called Carla with a laugh, as she tucked her arm within Kent’s.
Althea watched the pair until they were hidden by a curve in the path. Then she turned towards Cristo, whose outline she could barely distinguish in the darkness, except for the blur of his face. ‘I’d prefer you not to accompany me back to the villa.’
‘You are very angry, but I have known many other girls who pretended to be angry when I kissed them, but afterwards, oh, they were very glad and happy.’
‘You can spare me the account of your love life.’ She marched ahead of him, not even caring if she stumbled, although then he would have had the excuse to pick her up and that might have led to further trouble.
Cristo followed in silence until they came to the terrace of the Villa Stefano. ‘Buona note,’ he called, but Althea was too angry to answer.
The outer door of the ‘gingerbread house’ stood ajar, for which Althea was immensely thankful. To walk through some of the main part of the villa to reach the connecting corridor would have been too much.
She went straight into her bedroom, but her father called, ‘Is that you, dear?’
‘Coming, Father,’ she replied, stopping only to tidy her hair. As she went into the sitting-room, it occurred to her that she had not met Kent on the return journey to his own villa. A blessing in disguise, of course, she reflected, but had he gone home the other way round by the road or been invited in? If the latter, then what explanation could Carla give?
Althea dismissed these thoughts impatiently. She was becoming altogether too interested in Kent’s goings and comings.
Her father glanced up and handed her one of the English newspapers.
‘So apparently we’re losing Cristoforo for a while,’ he observed. ‘I can’t say I’m particularly sorry to see the back of him for a while.’
‘I find him—rather tedious on occasions,’ she admitted.
‘I hope Emilia won’t invite him here too often. He seems to have only two topics of conversation—cars and women.’ Althea laughed. ‘In that order?’
‘Naturally. What else would you expect?’
After a few moments Althea said, ‘You know I have to accompany Carla tomorrow on her first lesson in Naples with the professor?’
‘Well, it will make an outing for you.’
‘I hope I don’t have to go every week, though. This chaperone business seems rather ridiculous to me. If both Carla and I chose, we could skip off anywhere we liked, as long as we came home on the evening steamer.’
‘Then for your own sake hope that Carla doesn’t have as much imagination as you have,’ was her father’s grim warning. ‘Don’t put ideas into her head.’
‘If I could see the ideas she has there already, I’d probably be startled,’ Althea said with a laugh.
She was considerably surprised next day when Cristo accompanied her and Carla down to the Marina Grande for the mid-morning steamer.
‘I thought you were going by helicopter to the mainland,’ she told him coldly.
He gave her a dazzling smile. ‘I changed my mind. I couldn’t let us part in such a state of enemies.’
‘We’re not enemies,’ she objected. ‘I’m just not interested in casual lovemaking.’
‘But I’m madly in love with you. I want a chance to prove it.’
She smiled. ‘Wait until you get back to Rome. There you can be surrounded with girls who might appreciate you more than I do.’
At the harbour in Naples Carla bade he
r cousin a most affectionate farewell, kissing and embracing him as though he were off to South America. When at last they released each other, Cristo lifted Althea’s hand and raised it to his lips.
‘Forgive me, carissima,’ he whispered, ‘if I am too impulsive and show my love too hastily.’ He brushed her cheek with a light kiss, picked up his suitcase and walked off towards the car park where he had left his car during his holiday.
At the professor’s house, Althea was received with due ceremony and ushered into the practice room. To her astonishment a dozen other pupils were ranged about the room which was almost bare except for a grand piano near the windows.
‘You sit over there,’ Carla indicated in a whisper, and Althea obediently joined four or five other women, none of them as young as herself and obviously the mothers or aunts of some of the young pupils.
‘Duennas’ corner’, she reflected, feeling as though she had come to watch a darling six-year-old daughter take her first lessons in ballet school.
The professor entered, a portly man with smooth grey hair, a noble forehead and a definitely Roman nose. The assorted pupils stood respectfully and sat down only when the maestro had settled himself on the piano stool.
When Althea realised that this was a class, not individual tuition, she wondered why on earth she had allowed herself to be thrust into this situation.
But the class had begun. One by one the pupils stood up, controlled their breath and sang scales, arpeggios, exercises, sometimes joined one another in chords or phrases at the professor’s direction. His criticisms were obviously severe and several students sank to their chairs crushed with defeat, while others, including Carla, seemed to be satisfied with themselves.