Mediterranean Rebel's Bride

by Lucy Gordon

  ‘There is if you fight it.’

  ‘And if I don’t want to fight it? Do you know what happened to me that day at the track? When I saw her standing there in front of me I was glad. I knew she was beckoning me to disaster but I didn’t care. I was so full of joy at seeing her after so long. I think I called out to her—’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, remembering how he’d lain in her arms afterwards and murmured Sapphire’s name.

  ‘I was chasing her across a great distance, but she always evaded me, and then she was gone.’

  ‘And you think if I take you back to her old haunts you’ll find her? You won’t. That’s not where the truth lies.’

  ‘But I have to believe that it’s somewhere to be found otherwise I’ll go mad.’

  ‘Can’t it be enough that she was beautiful?’ Polly begged. ‘That you had a perfect time together and she left you a son?’

  ‘A chimera,’ he murmured. ‘Nothing more.’

  ‘That little boy wasn’t born from a chimera. He’s real, and he’s all that’s left of her. Ruggiero, please, please try to understand. You can’t bring her back.’

  He seemed to relax against her, and for a moment she thought she’d got through to him. Moving slowly, she reached out to the wedding album and drew it towards her.

  ‘Let me take this,’ she said. ‘Don’t brood over it.’

  But his hand clamped over hers. ‘Leave it.’

  ‘Ruggiero—’

  ‘I said leave it.’

  Before he could reply she heard the shrill of her cellphone from her room.

  ‘I must answer that before it wakes him up,’ she said, and hurried out without closing Ruggiero’s door.

  From the next room he heard her say,

  I called you earlier today, but there was no answer so I assumed you’d gone to the hospital.’

  Then he closed his door, resisting the temptation to eavesdrop further.

  In her room, Polly moved well away from the cot and spoke softly into the phone.

  ‘Iris, I’m so glad your daughter’s all right. I’m sure she’ll be home from the hospital soon. And thank you for everything.’

  She hung up and returned to Ruggiero.

  ‘Can I come in again?’ she asked through the closed door.

  ‘No,’ came his voice. ‘I won’t disturb you any longer. Goodnight, Polly.’

  ‘Goodnight.’

  There was nothing to do but turn away, wondering about the opportunity that had been lost.

  The next day Ruggiero announced that he was well enough to go work.

  ‘Is he?’ Hope immediately asked Polly.

  ‘Yes, he is,’ Ruggiero declared firmly.

  ‘Yes, he is,’ Polly said, speaking like a robot. Then she laughed and said, ‘You heard him. I’ve been told what to say.’

  ‘The idea of you taking orders!’ Hope scoffed, giving her an admiring look.

  ‘He’ll be all right if he’s careful,’ Polly said.

  ‘Then we’re going shopping,’ Hope said gleefully. ‘I want to celebrate my new grandson.’

  ‘By stripping the shops bare?’ Toni enquired with wry amusement.

  ‘Can you think of a better way of celebrating?’

  She, Toni and Polly set off, accompanied by Matteo, as he had now become. Hope was in her element, spending money on toddler clothes, toddler toys, toddler food, turning to Polly for advice and sometimes actually taking it.

  ‘You’re not offended with me?’ she asked Polly anxiously. ‘I know you’ve always given him the best you could afford—’

  ‘I’m not offended. He was growing out of most of his stuff anyway, and who wants to pass up the chance of a shopping trip?’

  Cheered by this sign of Polly’s good sense, Hope swept her into a dress shop and bought her the basis of a new wardrobe—‘So that I can be really sure you’re not offended.’

  ‘But I’m not—’

  ‘Then accept these few things, with my thanks.’

  ‘Don’t argue,’ Toni begged. ‘Let her have her own way, please!’

  ‘All right,’ Polly said, understanding him correctly. ‘For your sake.’

  They all laughed.

  The family was gathering, all eager to inspect the newest Rinucci. Later that day Luke and Minnie arrived from Rome, while Primo and Olympia made a second visit. Once more Matteo was in his element, holding court. In a very short time Matteo became Matti.

  Ruggiero arrived to find Olympia holding the child up high while they giggled together. He behaved delightfully, kissing his sisters-in-law, joshing his brothers, and later joining in the family amusement at the sight of his father with his grandson on his lap, an adoring slave.

  It was a charming scene, but again Polly knew that he was using it as a screen to hide how little he felt for his son. Once she would have blamed him, but now she understood more clearly. Freda’s rejection had wounded him as much as her death, perhaps more, and for now the child was merely a reminder of that.

  When it was Matti’s bedtime Hope came to Polly’s room and assisted. When he was in his cot, she leaned down and kissed him.

  ‘Buona notte,’ she murmured.

  Seeing Ruggiero in the doorway, she beckoned him forward.

  ‘Kiss him goodnight,’ she urged.

  ‘Better not disturb him now he’s sleeping,’ he said. ‘I think I’ll go to bed now, Mamma. Goodnight.’

  Polly spent the next day at the villa with Hope and Toni, enjoying the sight of their rapport with Matti. Hope had noticed that Ruggiero wasn’t at ease with the child, but it didn’t trouble her greatly.

  ‘It will take a little time for him to relax about this,’ she said cheerfully. ‘But that’s all right. I’m not in a hurry to see him vanish back to his apartment.’

  ‘Apartment?’ Polly asked, startled. ‘I thought he lived here.’

  ‘He does some of the time, but he has his own place in Naples too. All our sons have homes away from us, but they keep their rooms in the villa.’

  ‘But how will he manage on his own with a child?’ Polly wondered.

  ‘He can’t. Matti will stay with us at first, and live with Ruggiero later, when he’s grown up enough to do things for himself.’ She added in an under-voice, ‘And when my son has grown up enough to be a father.’

  ‘That’s not fair,’ Polly said at once. ‘It’s less than a week since he knew she was dead, and he’s grieving for her.’

  ‘A woman who treated him like that? Polly, have you told him everything yet?’

  ‘No, he’s not ready. He has suspicions, but nothing he can’t shake off. How can I give him a clear picture of my cousin without also destroying Matti’s mother in Ruggiero’s eyes?’

  They were both silent. Then Hope patted her hand.

  ‘You will find a way. You are a wise woman, and you have all my trust.’

  ‘And mine,’ said Toni, who didn’t always allow his wife to speak for him.’

  The evening meal was early, with Matti sitting on Toni’s lap like a little grandee, lording it over his court. There was no sign of Ruggiero, but as they were all climbing the stairs to put Matti to bed the phone rang. Toni went to answer it, and joined them a few minutes later, saying, ‘Ruggiero won’t be back tonight. After the time he’s had off he says he must work late, so he’ll go to his apartment.’

  He didn’t return the next day, or the one after. Polly became more troubled, haunted by the things he’d said to her the night before he’d left, the glimpse she’d had of a tortured mind. She longed to talk to him again—see into his thoughts, help to rid him of his obsession.

  Or maybe I just want him to forget her and think of me, she thought with wry realism. Who am I kidding? Not myself, that’s for sure. Freda would be the first person to tell me what I’m really hoping for.

  And she did.

  That night her cousin came to her, dancing out of the misty darkness.

  ‘Freda? What are you doing here?’

  The vision lau
ghed, swirling her glorious hair so that it was like a halo. She was in a long, floaty dress that swirled about her, and all her beauty had returned.

  ‘I’m not Freda any more,’ she teased. ‘Freda’s dead.’

  ‘You’re dead.’

  ‘No, I’m Sapphire now. Because that’s how he thinks of me, and you’ve started to see me through his eyes.’

  ‘Go away,’ Polly cried.

  ‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You want to make him forget me so that you can have him for yourself. But you never will. He’s still mine. He loves me, and there’s nothing you can do about it—nothing—nothing—nothing—’

  She was gone.

  Suddenly the darkness vanished, dawn light filled the room, and Polly awoke with a shudder to find herself sitting up in bed.

  ‘It was a dream,’ she gasped. ‘Only a dream.’

  She went to the bathroom to splash water on her eyes. The face in the mirror was so superficially like Sapphire’s, yet so cruelly different.

  ‘She’s dead,’ she told the image firmly. ‘She’s gone for good.’

  ‘But I haven’t,’ Sapphire whispered in her mind. ‘I’m not dead to him. Why do you think he’s vanished? He wants to be alone with me.’

  Suddenly the fear was hard and real, driving Polly out into the corridor and into Ruggiero’s empty room.

  A thorough search confirmed her worst suspicions. The photo albums were missing.

  The Palazzo Montelio overlooked the Naples docks. Despite its name it wasn’t a palace, but a grandiose edifice, built by a self-important merchant who’d wanted a place where he could keep a constant eye on the boats that provided his wealth. For two centuries his fortunes had flourished, but then declined, so that the building had had to be sold and turned into apartments.

  As she made her way slowly up the wide stairs to the second floor Polly wondered again if she was wise to come here. But perhaps it had been inevitable since the moment Hope had called Ruggiero’s firm and discovered that was not there.

  ‘Not for the last two days,’ she said, looking significantly at Polly. She scribbled something on a scrap of paper. ‘That’s where he lives.’

  So now here she was, about to beard the lion in his lair, ready to face his fury at her temerity in hounding him.

  But all he said when he opened the door was, ‘What took you so long?’

  She’d half expected to discover that he’d been drowning his sorrows, but his voice was sober and his movements steady.

  The apartment was an odd mixture of faded grandeur and modernity, with old-fashioned comfortable furniture and a gleaming kitchen. She managed to look around cautiously while he made some English tea, which was unexpectedly good.

  Now that she could observe him better, her first favourable impression was changing. If he hadn’t been drinking, neither had he been eating or shaving. His dark hair meant that several days’ stubble stood out starkly, making his lean face almost cadaverous. Nor had he slept much, if his eyes told a true story.

  He looked as if he’d dressed in the first thing he’d been able to find to throw on—old jeans, old shirt, mostly unbuttoned so that she could see the rough, curly hair beneath.

  ‘You knew I was coming?’ she said.

  ‘I’d have bet money on it.’

  ‘Well, you’re still my patient. I needn’t ask how you’ve managed. I can see that you’ve been taking proper care of yourself, eating well, getting enough rest, behaving sensibly. I can’t think why I bothered.’

  That made him laugh, and he winced, holding his side.

  ‘It hurts more than it did,’ he admitted.

  ‘And it’ll go on hurting for a while. I’ve brought you some more pills. These won’t send you to sleep like the last ones.’

  ‘Thanks. I’ve been trying some that I bought in a shop, but—’ He shrugged, then stopped quickly and rubbed his shoulder.

  ‘Here,’ she said, producing the pills. ‘Take a couple now, and we’ll think about something to eat.’

  ‘I don’t have much in the place.’

  ‘Then we’ll have to go out. My treat.’

  ‘No, I can’t let—’

  ‘I didn’t ask you to let me. I just said that’s what I’m going to do.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’ He gave a brief snort of laughter. ‘You don’t know how good it feels to have you bullying me again.’ He added abstractedly, ‘Maybe my father was right.’

  ‘About what?’

  He’d recalled Toni’s words about how Hope anticipated his needs and fulfilled them before he was even aware. The outside world might dismiss it as domination, but Toni had spoken like a man with a happy secret. Ruggiero was about to tell Polly, but backed off, realising that this would lead him into unknown paths where perhaps he couldn’t rely on her hand to steady him.

  What he did know, beyond doubt, was that if she hadn’t arrived when she did he would have sought her out.

  ‘Never mind,’ he said hastily. ‘Poppa says a lot of strange things.’

  ‘Then you’re not his son for nothing,’ she mused.

  She spoke lightly, but the sight of him worried her. How long was it since he’d last eaten? She decided to get some food into him fast.

  The light was fading as they left the building. Lamps were coming on in the little restaurants along the seafront, and on the boats that came and went in the harbour.

  ‘They’re mostly ferries,’ he explained, ‘linking us with Capri, Ischia and several other islands.’

  ‘That place looks nice,’ she said, pointing at a tiny café near the water. A board over the door announced Pesci Di Napoli.

  ‘Fish from Naples,’ she announced triumphantly. ‘You see, I’ve actually learned some Italian words. Let’s go.’

  ‘Not there,’ he said quickly.

  ‘Why? Is there something wrong with it? Is the fish rancid?’

  ‘Of course not. But there are better places—’

  ‘Ruggiero, mi amico!’

  The bawling, friendly voice stopped them as he was about to hurry her away, and made him turn reluctantly.

  ‘Leo,’ he said.

  The man standing in the doorway of Pesci Di Napoli beamed and shook his hand so vigorously that Ruggiero winced.

  ‘Leo, this is Signorina Hanson, and she only speaks English.’

  ‘Welcome, signorina. Ruggiero, it’s too long since we saw you. Come in and have something to eat. We’ve got fresh clams today, and I know how much you like them.’

  There was no escape. Ruggiero smiled and ushered Polly in.

  ‘You know this place well?’ she asked, looking at him curiously.

  ‘He owns part of it,’ Leo said. ‘The profits he makes here he throws away on motorbikes, so that he can have the fun of half killing himself. One day he’ll complete the job and we’ll all have a good laugh.’

  Ruggiero grinned at his friend’s jeering irony. The atmosphere was warm and jovial.

  And yet he’d tried to steer her away.

  Leo led them to a table by the window.

  ‘Spaghetti with clams to start with,’ Ruggiero said, ‘since that’s what Leo’s decided. And afterwards—’

  He explained the menu to her and they decided on lasagna napolitana and coffee. Leo tried to interest them in wine, but she shook her head.

  ‘No alcohol,’ she said. ‘Not with those pills.’

  ‘I know. You told me days ago.’

  When Leo had departed Ruggiero asked, ‘Did you rush down here to see if I was drinking myself to death? You needn’t have. I’ve stuck to tea, believe it or not.’

  ‘I do believe it,’ she said lightly. ‘I know that among your many virtues the greatest is self-control.’

  ‘Are you making fun of me?’ he demanded suspiciously.

  ‘Why should you think so?’

  ‘My “many virtues”! You wouldn’t say that except ironically.’

  She was silent, wondering how far it was wise to push him.

  ‘Don�
�t you have many virtues?’ she ventured at last.

  ‘Probably not many that you’d call virtues.’

  ‘Perhaps they cease to be virtues when you carry them to extremes?’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘Self-control is fine, except when you turn it into an iron cage,’ she ventured.

  ‘And you think that’s what I do?’

  ‘Yes, because you told me yourself. When we first talked about Sapphire you said that what was in here—’ she laid a hand over her heart ‘—was just for you, because it was safer for a man to keep himself to himself.’

  He nodded. ‘And she lured me out,’ he said in a wondering voice. ‘That was one reason that I loved her.’ He gave a half smile and tried the word again. ‘Love. I wouldn’t say it because it made losing her so much worse, but with her I talked about things I’d never spoken of before.’

  ‘He never shut up,’ said Sapphire grumpily in her head, ‘just because I once said, Tell me all about yourself. I mean, it’s only a come-on. I always said it to flatter men. But he took it literally.’

  ‘Then that was something she gave you,’ Polly said gently. ‘You’re better for knowing her. And you’ll always have it—unless you slip back to being grim and taciturn.’

  ‘Which I was doing,’ he mused. ‘Until you took me by the scruff of the neck and yanked me back.’

  Averting her head slightly, she made a face. Sapphire enticed. Polly yanked by the scruff of the neck. There it was—the truth about them. But at least it would stop her getting sentimental and foolish.

  ‘Why are you laughing?’ he asked.

  ‘Never mind. You wouldn’t see the joke. Besides, it’s not really funny. Ah, here’s Leo with our food.’

  She changed the subject, chatting about his parents, and how Matti was ruling the roost, but speaking in a casual way that put no pressure on him.

  ‘He’s made himself at home, then?’ Ruggiero asked. ‘Put his feet up, so to speak, and now he’s monarch of all he surveys?’

  ‘That’s exactly right—especially with your father. He’s Toni’s special pet.’

  A strange look came over Ruggiero’s face.

  ‘Ah, yes,’ he murmured. ‘At last he’s got a grandchild.’

  ‘At last? He already has plenty of them by your brothers, doesn’t he?’