It was still quite dark when they arrived in Geneva, and as they left the aircraft and made their way down the gangway the sharp, bitter cold of Switzerland in February came to meet them. They passed without difficulty through Customs and Immigration control, and then they waited just inside the airport’s main doors while their luggage was carried out to a taxi.
But they hadn’t been waiting for long before a voice hailed them; a sleepy, familiar Italian voice. And Anna started and swung round with an eagerness that was entirely revealing.
“Marco!” He had just come in through the glass doors, and she went forward a little to meet him. “Marco, how did you get here?”
“By aeroplane, Anna, just as you did—only a few hours earlier.” He looked at Candy. “Good morning, little one.” Then his face grew grave. “You sang last night? You did not cancel the performance?”
“No. She sang,” Anna answered for her. “She sang like an angel. But she left immediately afterwards, to come here with me.”
“I tried to get to Florence ahead of you last night,” he admitted ruefully. “I wanted to speak to Candy before you did—to make sure that she went ahead as Michele wished her to.”
“Then why did you not arrive?” Anna demanded, just a little sharply.
“My car broke down less than twenty kilometres north of Rome. So I decided to fly on to Switzerland, in order to be here ahead of you.”
His voice was cold and unemotional, almost flippant. But, although it was only visible for a moment, Candy didn’t miss the look that hovered in his eyes as they rested on the lovely face of his sister-in-law.
As it was still only four o’clock in the morning, and also they did have quite a bit of luggage with them, they didn’t go straight to the clinic after all, but instead instructed their taxi-driver to convey them to a well-known lakeside hotel a short distance away from it. There they refreshed themselves after their journey by washing and changing, and both Marco and the Contessa did everything in their power to persuade Candy to go to bed.
“I will see that you are awakened, carina, if there is anything to hear—anything at all,” Anna assured her gently. “You are exhausted, and must have rest.”
“But I don’t want to sleep,” Candy protested. “I—I’m not tired.” And then it occurred to her that perhaps, after all, they would be glad to have her out of the way for a while. It was true that Anna had asked for her company, but this whole thing was, after all, an essentially private family concern, and she was an outsider. “I won’t worry you” she promised anxiously. “I’ll go for a walk, or something...”
The Contessa shook her head at her. “Oh, Candy, don’t be silly.”
She was alone in her room when the sun came up. Standing by her window, she saw the vast darkness of the lake outside turn slowly to silver, and the tops of the surrounding mountains to gold. She had visited Switzerland once before, during her schooldays, and its beauty had amazed her then, as it did now. But this morning it seemed to her that it was a cold, curiously empty beauty, and it gave her no comfort.
Immediately after an early breakfast, they all set off by taxi for the clinic. The drive along by the lakeshore was spectacular, and under any other circumstances Candy would have appreciated it to the full, but since her arrival in Switzerland the whole terrible reality of what was happening had descended on her with the force of a physical weight, and her heart felt like stone. She couldn’t feel hope or confidence, now—she couldn’t feel anything except a despair as grey and unfathomable as those wide areas of the lake in front of her that had not yet been touched by the sun.
The clinic was a spreading, white-walled building surrounded by neat, English-style lawns and thickets of silver birch trees. For a medical institution it was certainly outstandingly attractive, and Candy had to admit to herself that at sight of it her heart did lift a little. Perhaps in this lovely setting ... Swiss doctors were supposed to be very clever, after all. Perhaps...? She didn’t dare to carry her thinking to its logical conclusion.
They were received by the staff with interest, and a certain amount of respect. The Conte di Lucca had had a good night, and was quite well this morning. The operation was planned for to-morrow. In the meantime...
Very soon Anna and her brother-in-law had been whisked upstairs for consultations with a senior specialist, and Candy, left alone, wandered through the gardens. At first she wondered why it was that there were absolutely no flowers, and then she remembered that it was February. Of course there were no flowers. She thought of her white roses, now reposing in a vase in her hotel bedroom, and her eyes filled with tears.
Oh, Michele...
It seemed a very long time later that the others rejoined her, and when they did it was obvious that Anna had been crying. But she smiled at Candy.
“Go up and see him, cara. He is asking for you. They will take you up.”
Inside the quiet, sun-filled building, with a tranquil, uniformed nursing Sister in a starched coif escorting her up in a lift and then along what seemed like miles of corridor to a distant wing, she felt as if her nerves were about to give out completely. She had never expected him to send for her—she didn’t know why, but it hadn’t at any time occurred to her that he could want to see an outsider like herself.
The room that had been allotted to Michele was undoubtedly one of the best the establishment had to offer, and when Candy first hesitantly followed the nurse through the doorway she was almost blinded by the brilliance of the morning light pouring in through the wide picture windows. At first glance it was all much more strongly reminiscent of a luxury hotel than a clinic; but then her eyes took in the neat, narrow, hospital-style bed, with its attendant charts and shining equipment, and something seemed to turn over in the region of her heart.
The bed had been made up, and there was nothing, as far as Candy could see, to indicate the presence of a patient, but the nurse smiled, and gestured towards the balcony.
“He is out there, mademoiselle.” And then she effaced herself, and Candy was left to make her way out on to the balcony alone.
He was sitting in a large basket-work chair, staring out across the magnificent panorama of lake and mountain that was spread in front of him like a theatre backcloth, and when Candy first caught sight of him she was conscious of a little upsurge of relief because he looked so normal—so completely himself. She wasn’t sure what sort of changes she had expected an interval of a few days to have brought about in him, but she knew she had expected something. And yet there he was, looking just as he had looked on that evening last October, when she had opened the door of the drawing room at Great Mincham, and he had been there, playing the piano.
She understood, now, that look in his eyes that had so puzzled her—the melancholy detachment that must have had its roots in despair.
She moved so quietly that for a moment or two he didn’t realize she was there. And then he looked up, and the expression on his face startled her, setting every pulse she possessed throbbing wildly.
“Candida!” He stood up.
“How—how are you?” she asked lamely.
He didn’t answer, but simply went on looking at her in a way that almost bewildered her. “Candida,” he said at last, “I didn’t mean you to come here.”
Desperately uncertain, not knowing what to say, she murmured: “The Contessa asked me to come. To—to keep her company.”
His voice and expression changed a little. “Yes ... Of course.” He indicated a chair close beside his own, and she sat down rather thankfully.
“Well, how was it ... last night? My mother tells me you had a great success.”
“It’s very kind of her to say so. I think it did go rather well.”
“I wish I could have been there.” His voice was gentle.
She wanted to say: “So do I,” but even if she had had the nerve to do so the words wouldn’t have come.
He was talking about Caterina. “She was sorry, too, that she could not be there ... very so
rry. But she came with me because—”
“Yes, of course—I know.” How could he suppose she didn’t understand that Caterina, who was to be his wife, had had to go with him?
“I would have postponed...” he was saying slowly. “But the doctors told me there was no more time. You understand, don’t you?”
“Yes,” she said, and thought the monosyllable had never sounded more hopelessly inadequate. She felt almost like screaming. If only he would stop talking about her own wretched, miserable singing debut as if it were important ... when the only thing that mattered in the whole wide world was that his operation should, be a success, his recovery complete. Desperately, she looked away from him, and as she stared out across the smooth surface of the shining lake she knew that if: she were only to be given the chance she would give up every hope for her own future ... if by doing so she could help him. The fact that he didn’t love her made no difference whatsoever. If he came through the operation he would almost certainly marry Caterina, but she didn’t care. At least, she did care ... she cared terribly, but her caring wasn’t important.
The only thing that was important was that he should be all right—that, after to-morrow, his road ahead should be clear and bright. That after to-morrow there should be a road ahead.
“Candida,” he said suddenly, “look at me!”
She obeyed, her pale cheeks flushing faintly.
“Tell me...” He was watching her so intently that she felt the colour grow deeper. “Last night you had a great success. It has made you very happy?”
“Happy?” Her eyes revealed her bewilderment.
“Yes. It was what you wanted, wasn’t it?”
“I...” She turned her head away. “Yes, of course.”
“Then I have achieved what I set out to achieve.”
Her throat contracted; she dared not speak, and in near desperation she stood up.
“Candy...” It was the first time that he had used the shortened form of her name. “You’re not going, Candy?”
“I mustn’t tire you,” she managed stiffly.
“You won’t tire me. I don’t feel ill, and my condition cannot be made worse. It’s not that sort of an illness.”
“Yes, but—”
“I don’t want you to go, Candy. Not yet.”
He had risen to his feet, and was standing behind her. She felt his breath stirring her hair, and her pulses began to race.
“If—if everything goes well you will come and see me again, won’t you? After the operation? You can stay until then?”
“If you want me to,” a little unsteadily. “But you’ll have Caterina.”
“Caterina?” He sounded surprised.
“Well, she’ll be staying on, won’t she?”
“Not for long. She begins her novitiate at the Convent of the Holy Angels on the tenth of this month.”
Candy swung round to face him. “Her ... what did you say?” she asked in a small voice.
“Her novitiate. Hasn’t she told you? She finally made up her mind only two or three days ago, but the idea has been with her since she was a child. She is definitely to become a nun.”
“A ... nun?”
“Yes. But why are we talking about Caterina?”
She wasn’t thinking clearly enough to dissemble. “I—I thought you were going to marry her.”
For several seconds there was silence, while he stared down into her face. Then he spoke, softly and huskily. “You thought I was going to marry Caterina?”
“Yes.” She was afraid to look at him.
“But ... Candy, Caterina and I have been close friends since we were children. That is why she came here with me, and why she will wait—at least until to-morrow before going back to Rome. But we have never been anything but friends. During the last few months she has slowly been coming to a decision about her vocation, and because she and I are like brother and sister we have spent a great deal of time discussing it together. It has been a difficult time for her. She needed to tell her thoughts to someone. But there has never been anything more than that between us.”
So that was it! It accounted for everything—even the time Caterina and Michele had spent together on Christmas night. For the simple reason that she couldn’t do anything to prevent it, her lower lip started to tremble, and without looking up she knew that Michele had noticed.
And then she was in his arms, and he was holding her so tightly that she couldn’t breathe. Tears cascaded down her cheeks, and she hid her face against him.
“Oh, Candy ... carina!” His sensitive fingers stroked her hair unsteadily. “I was so afraid—so afraid you didn’t want me! I thought you only wanted your music. That was what I wanted for you at first—I had seen how Ryland had made you suffer, and I vowed to myself that I would teach you to live for your heavenly voice—to spread your wings and soar out of reach of everything that could bring a cloud into your eyes. But it was no good—I fell so desperately in love with you!”
Dizzy and unbelieving, she looked up, and as he bent his head and kissed her the world was dissolved in light, and a peace such as she had never dreamed of enveloped her like a mantle. “I love you,” she whispered. “Oh, Michele, I love you more than anything on earth—more than life! Music means nothing to me by comparison with you.”
He laid his cheek against her hair, and when he spoke his voice quivered with remorse.
“I didn’t mean to say anything until ... unless...” It wasn’t necessary for him to finish,
“Oh, darling!” She lifted her eyes to his, and although in their depths there was anguish there was also a brilliant, glowing light. “I’m so glad you did.”
They were silent for what seemed a very long time. And then at last he lifted his head and looked down at her.
“Candy, you know that during the next twenty-four hours everything will be—well, in the hands of God.”
She nodded.
“It is just that I worry about you. If—if anything should happen ... if the future doesn’t work out for us...”
“Don’t,” she whispered. “Don’t say that. Everything is going to be all right—I know it is. But even if ... Michele, some time, somewhere, we’ll be together. Whatever happens.”
And as he bent and kissed her hair he knew that she was right. For them there would never be any parting.
CHAPTER TEN
THE operation was scheduled to begin at ten a.m. the following day, and just before that time Candy and the Contessa di Lucca, together with Marco, arrived at the clinic. Candy was very pale, but absolutely calm. Nobody had asked her any questions about what had happened between her and Michele the previous morning, but everybody had guessed without the smallest difficulty, and had been exceptionally gentle with her ever since.
At the clinic they met Caterina, whom they had also seen the previous afternoon, and as Candy kissed her she felt all over again the overwhelming wonder she had felt when she first heard the truth about the relationship between the other girl and Michele. Without revealing anything else, she let Caterina know that she had been told about her plans, and they talked for a long time. The conversation acted as a sort of opiate, through which Candy felt the anguish of icy fear hovering about her all the time, striving to take her over, body and soul.
The authorities at the clinic didn’t seem to think it in the least odd that no fewer than four close relatives and friends should wish to wait on the premises for news of the Conte di Lucca, and they were allotted a pleasant private sitting-room overlooking not the mountains but the tranquil woods and gardens behind the building.
Candy noticed that for most of the time Anna and her brother-in-law sat close together, and it was obvious that at last the gulf between them had been bridged. For Anna the presence of Marco was the source of all comfort, and for Marco ... Candy watched him with fascination as, his face transformed by solicitude—and something much stronger than solicitude—he hovered protectively about the woman he had loved for so long.
Anna had told her that everything had been put right, too, between herself and Michele, and for that Candy was profoundly grateful.
Slowly the minutes dragged by and became hours. Coffee was served to them and then more coffee, but Candy didn’t drink any of it. She had faith—she knew she had faith, and every so often she closed her eyes and tried to shut everything but that faith out of her mind, but still the icy fingers of fear reached out and clasped at her heart, and she was obsessed by a feeling that she was walking the edge of a high precipice. When she tried to speak her voice and throat were dry, and when she tried to move her whole body felt stiff. It was understandable, she told herself. It wasn’t only Michele’s life that hung in the balance: it was her own as well.
All at once, after what seemed like an eternity of silence, Caterina spoke to her.
“Did you know,” she asked softly, “that when Michele first met you he had just seen the London specialist who gave him no hope?”
Candy shook her head.
“Well, it’s true. That day was a black one for him. He has told me he felt surrounded by darkness. But then he met you, and he says you became for him a ray of light in the darkness.”
“Oh!” It was a quivering whisper.
“At first he wished only to help you sing. So he arranged everything ... your corning to Rome, Signor Galleo—everything. Whatever story they told you about it was not true. Michele did it all.” She stopped. “I tell you,” she said quietly, “because I know it will make you happy, not ashamed.”
Candy’s eyes glowed. So she owed everything to him! He was behind everything in her life that had any value.
“Yes,” she said after a pause, “it makes me very happy.”
Ten minutes later, at exactly twenty-seven minutes past one, the door opened and the senior specialist whom Anna and Marco had seen the day before appeared on the threshold. He was looking at Anna.
“Madame,” he said quietly, “may I speak with you?” The Contessa stood up slowly. Her eyes were terrible. Marco di Lucca accompanied her to the door, and they both went out with the doctor.
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