by Lucy Gordon
‘There was never any doubt about the outcome. As soon as I saw her, I knew she was mine.’
‘Was’, not ‘would be’, Alysa noted.
‘How did you meet?’ she asked.
‘In a courtroom. She’d just qualified as a lawyer and it was her first case. I was a witness, and when she questioned me I kept “misunderstanding” the questions, so that I could keep her there as long as possible. Afterwards I waited for her outside. She was expecting me. We both knew.’
‘Love at first sight?’
‘Yes. It knocked me sideways. She was beautiful, funny, glowing-everything I wanted but hadn’t known that I wanted. There had been women before, but they meant nothing beside her. I knew that at once. She knew as well. So when Elena opposed us it just drove us into an elopement.’
‘Good for you!’
‘Elena has never really forgiven me. It was actually Carlotta’s idea, but she won’t believe that. She never really understood her own daughter-how adventurous Carlotta was, how determined to do things her own way-’
He stopped. He’d gone suddenly pale.
‘How did you manage the elopement?’ Alysa asked, to break the silence.
‘I’d bought a little villa in the mountains. We escaped there, married in the local church and spent two weeks without seeing another soul. Then we went home and told Elena we were married.’
‘Hadn’t she suspected anything?’
‘She’d thought Carlotta was on a legal course. To stop her getting suspicious, Carlotta called her every night, using her mobile phone, and talked for a long time.’
So Carlotta had been clever at deception, Alysa thought. She hadn’t only been able to think up a lie, she’d been able to elaborate it night after night, a feat which had taken some concentration. The first hints had been there years ago. In his happiness Drago hadn’t understood. She wondered if he understood now.
He’d turned his back on her to stare out of the window into the darkness.
Images were beginning to flicker through Alysa’s brain. She could see the honeymooners, gloriously isolated in their mountain retreat. There was Drago as he must have been then: younger, shining with love, missing all the danger signals.
Suddenly he turned back and made a swift movement to his desk, unlocking one of the drawers and hauling out a large book, which he thrust almost violently towards her. Then he resumed his stance at the window.
It was a photo album, filled with large coloured pictures, showing a wedding at a tiny church. There was the young bride and groom, emerging from the porch hand in hand, laughing with joy because they had secured their happiness for ever.
Carlotta was dazzling. Alysa could easily believe that Drago had fallen for her in the first moment. And James? Had he too been lost in the first moment?
She closed the book and clasped it to her, arms crossed, rocking back and forth, trying to quell the storm within. She’d coped with this-defeated it, survived it. There was no way she would let it beat her now.
She felt Drago’s hands on her shoulders.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said heavily. ‘I shouldn’t have done that.’
‘Why not?’ she said, raising her head. ‘I’m over it all now.’
‘You don’t get over it,’ he said softly. She turned away, but he shook her gently. ‘Look at me.’
Reluctantly she did so, and he brushed his fingertips over her cheeks.
‘It was thoughtless of me to show you this and make you cry.’
‘I’m not crying,’ she said firmly. ‘I never cry.’
‘You say that as if you were proud of it.’
‘Why not? I’m getting on with my life, not living in the past. It’s different for you because you have Tina, and the home you shared with your wife. You can’t escape the past, but I can. And I have.’
He moved away from her.
‘Maybe you have,’ he agreed. ‘But are you sure you took the best route out of it?’
‘What the devil do you mean?’
‘“Devil” is right,’ he said with grim humour. ‘I think it must have been the devil who told you to survive by pretending that you weren’t a woman at all.’
‘What?’
‘You crop your hair close, dress like a man-’
She sprang to her feet and confronted him.
‘And you call Elena nineteenth-century! You may not have heard of it, but women have been wearing trousers for years.’
‘Sure, but you’re not trying to assert your independence, you’re trying to turn yourself into a neutered creature without a woman’s heart or a woman’s feelings.’
‘How dare you?’ She began to pace the room, back and forth, clenching her fists.
‘Maybe it’s the only way you can cope,’ Drago said. ‘We all have to find our own way. But have you ever wondered if you’re damaging yourself inside?’
‘You couldn’t be more wrong. I cope by self-control, because that’s what works for me. Without it I might have cracked up, and I wouldn’t let that happen. So I don’t cry. So what? Do you cry?’
‘Not as much as I used to,’ he said quietly.
The answer stopped her in her tracks. It was the last thing she’d expected him to say.
‘The emotions and urges are there for men as well as women,’ he added.
‘Maybe you can afford to give in to them,’ she snapped. ‘I can’t. This is how I manage, and it works fine. I’m over it, it’s finished, past, done with.’
‘Do you know how often you say that?’ he demanded, becoming angry in his turn. ‘Just a little too often.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning that I think you’re trying to convince yourself-say it enough and you might start to believe it.’
‘I say it because it’s true.’
‘Then what were you doing at the waterfall today? Don’t try to fool me as you fool yourself. If it was really finished, you’d never have come here.’
‘All right, I wanted to tie up a few loose ends. Maybe I needed to find out the last details, just to close the book finally. It troubles me a little, but it doesn’t dominate me, and it hasn’t destroyed me because I won’t let it.’
But she heard the shrill edge to her own voice, and knew that she was merely confirming his suspicion. He was actually regarding her with pity, and that was intolerable.
‘Stop pacing like that,’ he said, taking hold of her with surprisingly gentle hands. ‘You’ll fall over something and hurt yourself.’
She stood, breathing hard, trying to regain her self-control. She wanted to push him away, but the strength seemed to have drained out of her. Besides, there was something comforting about the hands that held her: big, powerful hands that could lift a stone or console a child.
‘Sit down,’ he said quietly, urging her back to the chair. ‘You’re shaking.’
After a few deep breaths she said, ‘Aren’t we forgetting why I’m here? You wanted me to fill in the gaps in your knowledge, and I’ll do it, but my feelings are none of your business. Off-limits. Do you understand?’
He nodded. ‘Of course.’ He managed a faint smile. ‘I told you that Elena thinks I’m a mannerless oaf, without subtlety or finesse, going through life like a steamroller. I dare say by now you agree with her.’
She shrugged. ‘Not really. You said yourself, we all find our own way of coping. Yours is different to mine, but to hell with me! To hell with the rest of the world. If it works for you…’
‘My way no more works for me than yours works for you,’ he said quietly. ‘But with your help I might find a little peace of mind. I’m afraid my manners deserted me earlier today.’
‘You’re referring to the way you kidnapped me?’
‘I wouldn’t exactly say-Yes, I suppose I did. I apologise.’
‘Now that I’m here,’ she said wryly.
‘Yes, it’s easy to apologise when I’ve got my own way,’ he agreed with a touch of ruefulness. ‘That’s how I am. Too late to change now. And if you can tell me anyt
hing…’
‘Are you sure you want to know? Learning the details doesn’t make it any easier. If anything it hurts more.’
He nodded as if he’d already thought of this.
‘Even so, I’ve got to pursue it,’ he said. ‘You of all people should understand that.’
‘You really know nothing about James?’
‘Carlotta rented a small apartment in Florence, but it was in her name with no mention of him on the paperwork. I went over there and found enough to tell me that her lover was called James Franklin, but that was all.’
‘No other address?’
‘One in London, in Dalkirk Street, but he’d left it shortly before.’
‘Yes, that was where he lived when I knew him. Did you discover when the Florence apartment was rented?’
‘September.’
‘So soon after they met,’ she murmured.
‘That was my thought too. Their affair must have started almost at once, and the first thing she did was hunt for a love nest. I found it looking oddly bare-very little personal stuff, almost like a hotel room. I suppose they spent all their time in bed.’
‘Yes,’ she agreed huskily. ‘I suppose so. But surely he must have brought some things with him from England?’
‘It’s a very tiny apartment. They were probably looking for something larger.’
‘And his things would be stored in England until he was ready to send for them,’ Alysa said. ‘Only he never had the chance. I wonder what became of them?’ She gave a sigh. ‘Oh well!’
‘I couldn’t find anything on the internet about him. What did he do for a living?’
‘Nothing for the last few months. He used to work in a big city institution-that’s how we met. I’m an accountant and they hired me. He hated the job-being regimented, he called it. Then he came into some money and he said he was going to fulfil his real ambition to be a photographer. He left the job, bought lots of expensive equipment and started taking pictures everywhere, including several trips abroad. He asked me to go with him, and I promised I would when I could get some time off.
‘But that never seemed to happen. I should have gone with him to Florence, but at the last minute I couldn’t get away. I had several new clients.’
‘And they mattered more than your lover?’ Drago asked curiously.
‘That’s what he said. He said I couldn’t even spare him a few days. But I’d worked so hard to get where I was-I knew he didn’t really understand, but I never imagined-I thought James and I were rock-solid, you see.’
He didn’t reply, and his very silence had a tactful quality that was painful.
‘I should have gone with him,’ she said at last. ‘Maybe no love is as solid as that. So he came to Florence without me, and that’s probably when he met Carlotta.’
The picture show had started again in her head, and she watched James’s return to England, herself meeting him at the airport although he’d told her there was no need.
Now she noticed things she’d missed at the time: the slight impatience in his face when he saw her, showing that he really hadn’t wanted her there. Nor had he been pleased when she accompanied him to his apartment, although he’d cloaked his reluctance in concern for her.
‘Shouldn’t you be at work? They won’t like it if you take too much time off.’
Laughing, she’d brushed this aside.
‘I told them I wasn’t going back today. When we get home, I’m going to cook you supper, and then…And then, anything you want, my darling.’
‘So today your time’s all mine?’ he’d asked.
Had she been insane to have missed the note of irony?
‘When we met at the airport he wasn’t pleased to see me,’ she murmured now, to Drago. ‘Of course he wasn’t. He’d met her, and his heart and his thoughts were full of her. The last thing he wanted was me. He tried to dissuade me from going home with him.’
‘Did you go anyway?’ Drago asked.
‘Oh yes. I was that stupid. I tried to take him to bed, and believed him when he said he was too tired after the journey. I didn’t even get the message when he wouldn’t let me help him unpack.’
‘We can be frighteningly blind when we don’t realise that things have changed for ever,’ Drago said quietly. ‘And perhaps we fight against that realisation, because we’re fighting for our lives.’
‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘Yes.’
James had put his suitcases in the wardrobe, insisting that he would unpack them later. There had been no need for her to worry herself. But he’d kept out the bag where he kept his cameras.
‘I’m dying to see the pictures you’ve taken,’ she’d said, opening the side of one of them, ready to take out the little card that fitted into the computer.
It had been gone.
‘I’ve removed them all,’ he’d said quickly. ‘If anything happens to the cameras on the journey, at least I’ve got the cards.’
‘But you always keep the cameras with you. You’ve never bothered taking the cards out before.’
He’d shrugged.
It was obvious now that the cards had been full of pictures of Carlotta, and he’d made sure she wouldn’t see them.
Reaching into the bag, she’d found a small metal object, which she’d drawn out and studied curiously. It was a padlock, but unlike any padlock she’d ever seen, with tiny pictures on each side. One side had showed a heart, and the other side depicted two hands clasped. The shapes had been studded with tiny, gleaming stones that had looked as though they might be diamonds.
‘How charming,’ she’d said.
‘Yes, isn’t it?’ he’d said heartily. ‘I thought you’d like it.’
‘Is it for me?’
‘Of course.’
She’d felt for the key in the rucksack. Then she’d smiled at him, all fears removed.
‘I shall keep you padlocked in my heart,’ she’d told him. ‘See?’
But the key hadn’t fitted into the lock.
‘Sorry,’ he’d said. ‘It must be the wrong one. I’ll sort it out later.’ He’d kissed her cheek. ‘Now I’m going to collapse into bed. I’ll call you in the morning.’
That memory returned to her now, but she didn’t mention it to Drago, because she didn’t know what it meant. James had never given her the right key, and had taken back the padlock in the end.
‘When did this happen?’ Drago asked.
‘About September.’
He nodded. ‘Yes, I remember Carlotta suddenly started spending a lot of time away from home. She was gone for a whole week in September, then she was at home for a while. There were weekends, then another week in November. I found out afterwards that she’d spent that week in England.’
‘The tenth to the seventeenth?’ Alysa asked, dazed.
‘Was he away then?’
‘He said he was. He said he was going to drive north and get pictures of some wild scenery, immerse himself in the landscape, talk to nobody, even me. I tried to call him once but his phone was switched off. Then someone mentioned seeing him near his home in London. I said they were mistaken, but I guess they weren’t. He must have spent the week at home-with her.’
‘She was more shrewd than him,’ Drago said. ‘She never turned her mobile phone off. She used to call me every day and talk as though all was well with us.’ He drew a sudden, sharp breath.
‘Just like the other time, when you eloped,’ Alysa said, reading his mind.
‘Yes, just like then. It’s so easy to see it now.’
‘Did you never suspect anything?’
‘No. I trusted her totally. I went on being blind right up until the moment when she told me she was in love with someone else, and was leaving me for him. And do you want to hear something really funny? I didn’t believe her. I thought it wasn’t possible. Not my Carlotta, who’d been so close to me that she was like a second self. Only I’d been deluding myself. There was no second self. I’d been alone all the time and never known it.’
‘You felt that too?’ she asked quickly. ‘That’s it exactly-as though you’d imagined everything. And suddenly the whole world seems full of ghosts.’
‘And you feel as though you’re going mad,’ he confirmed. ‘In a strange way, my other self is you. I can say things to you that I could say to nobody else, and know that you’ll understand them.’
‘And even the words don’t always have to be said,’ she mused. ‘It’s a bit scary. To me, anyway.’
‘You think I’m not scared?’ he asked with grim humour. ‘Do I do that good a job of hiding it?’
‘Not really. Not from me.’
‘Exactly,’ he said in a quiet voice.
She had a fatalistic sense that she was being drawn onwards by powers too strong for her. She’d neither wanted nor sought this alliance, but there was no escaping it.
CHAPTER THREE
‘H OW did you find out?’ he asked.
‘I suppose the first hint was at Christmas, although I didn’t see it. We were going to spend the time together, and I got everything ready-tree, decorations, new dress.’ She gave him a faint smile of complicity, as if to say, ‘I do wear them sometimes’. He nodded, understanding.
‘Then he rang to say he wouldn’t be coming. A friend had suffered a tragedy and was suicidal. James didn’t want to leave him. It sounds a weak story now, but it might have been true. At any rate, I trusted him. I suppose you think that sounds stupid.’
Drago shook his head. ‘My own credulity strikes me as stupid, not yours. There’s no limit to what we can believe when we want to believe.’
‘Yes,’ she sighed. ‘And I wanted so much to believe.’
She still couldn’t bear to speak of her dead child, but unconsciously she laid a hand over her stomach. Drago, watching her, frowned slightly, and a sudden question came into his eyes.
‘How long was he away?’ he asked.
‘Until the first week in January. I guess he came here and spent time with Carlotta, but she couldn’t have seen much of him at Christmas.’
‘She was with us on Christmas Day, but the rest of the time she did a lot of coming and going. In Italy we also have another big occasion-Epiphany, January sixth, when we celebrate the coming of the three wise men. Carlotta was there for Epiphany-loving mother, loving wife-’ He broke off.