‘Well, clearly I was hoping to speak to…,’ I let my voice trail off. I really didn’t want to name names in front of Harriet. It was obvious who I wanted to talk with. But the woman at the other end of the phone was having none of it. Like a game of cat-and-mouse she was toying with me, thoroughly enjoying herself.
‘Hoping to speak to whom, Florrie?’ she mocked.
I took a deep breath. ‘Luca.’
From her position on the chaise-longue, Harriet shifted. I could see her head swivelling in my direction. Evidently she was hanging on to every word I was so reluctantly saying. Irked, I asserted myself.
‘Please could you put me on to Luca?’
Out of my peripheral vision I saw Harriet’s mouth forming a perfect O.
There was a brief pause before the woman at the other end of the phone deigned to reply.
‘I’m afraid that’s not possible.’
‘Can I ask why?’
‘No, Florrie. That’s personal. Just understand that Luca cannot come to the phone right now, and even if he could he wouldn’t be interested in talking to you. Do I make myself perfectly clear? Luca is with me, Florrie.’ She waited, letting her words sink in. ‘Do you understand? Now please don’t embarrass yourself by calling again.’
The line disconnected. I removed the phone from my ear and stared incredulously at it. Its screen blurred as my eyes suddenly swam with unshed tears. How could I have got things so wrong?
Harriet gave a little cough, cutting across my thoughts.
‘I couldn’t help overhearing you were ringing Luca Serafino.’
I blinked rapidly, willing the waterworks to subside.
‘Yes,’ I whispered, tucking the mobile away. ‘He was...indisposed.’
‘I see.’ Harriet inclined her head. ‘So you were meant to be meeting Luca this evening?’
‘Y-yes. About a painting,’ I lied. ‘But there must have been a misunderstanding. He wasn’t expecting me after all. I can stay for as long as you like.’
My voice was hoarse. There was a huge lump in my throat. It felt as though my airways were being constricted.
‘You look visibly upset, Florrie,’ Harriet persisted. ‘Was it a woman who answered Luca’s phone?’
I wasn’t in the mood for Harriet’s probing.
‘It’s really not important,’ I mumbled, picking up my paintbrush.
Harriet gave me a knowing look. ‘If it’s any consolation, she told me she’s been after Luca for ages.’
I inhaled sharply and looked across at Harriet. ‘I really don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Yes, you do,’ she persisted. ‘You’ve just been warned off by Annabelle Farquhar-Jones.’
Chapter Twenty-One
Ignoring Harriet, I got down to the task of painting her image. The Harry Potter glasses and blacked out teeth were replaced with chiselled cheekbones and a flawless complexion. My brush fairly flew across the canvas and, for the most part, Harriet kept still and didn’t complain. She didn’t make conversation, and neither did I. I worked on autopilot, paint blurring and building. As I stood in the make-shift studio under the eaves of the Montgomery-Murray-Wells’ mansion, another part of me …the feeling part…lifted up and whirled backwards to that moment in time where the association with Luca Serafino changed from working relationship to close relationship.
‘You’ve been crying, Florrie.’ Luca had looked concerned as he’d greeted me. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing,’ I’d sniffed and instantly pasted on a bright smile. ‘Just a bit of a cold.’
Luca had looked at me uncertainly. I’d been standing on the doorstep at the rear of the restaurant. My visit was a follow-up appointment to talk about the next landscape in the Florentine series, and which wall in the restaurant the painting would grace.
‘Come upstairs, Florrie. The weather is not so good today and you look chilled.’
Luca had stood aside allowing me into the narrow hallway. I’d stepped over the threshold into immediate warmth. Outside it had been a particularly cold February evening and chucking down with icy rain.
‘Follow me,’ Luca had said and led me up the staircase to his flat. ‘But first, I insist on making you a hot drink before we get down to the business of discussing the new painting.’
‘That would be lovely,’ I’d said with a shiver. Even now I like to think that shiver was simply due to coming in from the cold, but at that point I’d been acutely aware of Luca’s close proximity as he’d taken me into the lounge. I’d sat on a sofa by the window, desperately trying to relax in the comfort of Luca’s lounge which had been lit by soft lamplight. Minutes later, he’d sat down right next to me. Two cups of frothy cappuccino had been set on the occasional table in front of us.
‘Sugar?’
He’d smiled and immediately my insides had started to melt. I’d gazed at him, momentarily struck dumb, as my brain had sternly told my mouth to spit out the word “yes” or “no”. Momentarily I’d behaved like someone who’d had their grey matter abducted by aliens and the space filled with tiramisu.
‘That would be lovely,’ I’d finally whispered, taking a fat brown cube from the proffered sugar bowl.
We’d drunk our coffees together companionably. Luca had done most of the talking, which had been just as well because I’d felt ridiculously tongue-tied. Eventually we’d drained our cups. Luca had looked at me enquiringly.
‘Ready to talk shop?’ he’d asked and smiled encouragingly.
I’d nodded and smiled back. That’s better, Florrie. Settle down. Enjoy the man’s company. And his beauty. Just don’t drown in it. Stay focused.
‘So, another painting of Florence,’ Luca had begun, ‘but this time a completely different flavour. I’m looking for a piece that conveys a tantalising opportunity to glimpse into another world, one where there might have been intimate conversations and secret moments.’ He’d produced a photograph of the Ponte Vecchio. ‘This is the oldest and most famous bridge in Florence. It spans the Arno River. Locals and tourists love to visit and browse the jewellery shops located here. And look,’ Luca had pointed. ‘See all the padlocks around the railings? They’re all shapes, all colours, and all sizes. But they mean one thing.’
I’d cleared my throat to speak.
‘You place the padlock on the railings with your true love by your side. And when you close it, it symbolizes locking your love for each other, forever.’
‘Very good, Florrie. You have been there?’
Suddenly I’d been unable to speak. Instead I’d simply nodded again.
Luca had smiled. ‘Me too.’ Then he’d noticed the shift in my expression. ‘Hey, you’re upset. What is it, Florrie? What’s wrong?’
I’d opened my mouth to speak but instead found myself sucking in a long breath that had caught at the back of my throat. On the exhale, I’d sounded like a juddering washing machine gathering itself to do a final spin. Suddenly tears had spurted out of my eyes.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I’d gasped, mortified at my eyes taking it upon themselves to leak like knackered plumbing. ‘I don’t know what’s come over me.’
Luca had quickly put the photograph down on the table by our empty coffee cups.
‘Well clearly something has upset you.’ He’d frowned. ‘Is it the photograph?’
My eyes had cast downwards in misery. ‘Yes,’ I’d eventually muttered.
Luca had looked at the photograph and then back at me. Understandably he’d been confused.
‘Why does such a romantic image move you to such profound sorrow?’
I’d blinked through my tears. ‘Its…it’s nothing really,’ I’d stuttered.
‘But clearly it is.’ He’d picked up one of my hands. Tentatively he’d cupped it in both of his. ‘You can tell me it’s none of my business,’ he’d said gently, ‘but sometimes unburdening to someone you don’t know all that well can be very therapeutic. And,’ he’d added with a smile of reassurance, ‘I have nothing better to do
on this miserably cold, wet, winter’s evening.’
And before I’d been able to stop myself, the whole sorry saga of my unhappy marriage had tumbled from my lips.
‘The photograph is of a place my h-husband once took me,’ I’d gulped. Luca had nodded encouragingly, and I’d stumbled on. ‘It…it was a surprise weekend. A gift.’
‘Your birthday?’ he’d asked.
I’d shaken my head vehemently. ‘N-no. Nothing like that. It was a…s-sorry present. For…for,’ I’d struggled over the words, almost gagging, aware that I’d been divesting information so secret I’d not even told Alison or Daisy, and most definitely not my family. I’d been too ashamed to tell anyone. Too embarrassed. And too furious. And I didn’t want my friends or family to be livid on my behalf and, more importantly, I’d not wanted them to be angry with Marcus. Or to think less of him.
‘It was a sorry present for my husband being unfaithful to me.’
‘Ah.’ An expression I’d not been able to read had flickered across Luca’s face. I’d yet to hear about his marriage, both brief and disastrous, to Maria.
‘My husband – Marcus – at the time he’d been seeing a woman at his office. They were having an affair.’
‘That’s a cause of great hurt,’ Luca had acknowledged. His voice had held a note of genuine sympathy.
‘I’d suspected for a while that somebody else might be on the scene. You see,’ I’d lowered my eyes, suddenly feeling awkward, ‘I can’t have children and…my husband…well he has fertility issues too, so it’s unlikely he’ll ever father children …so between the two of us…,’ I’d shrugged and let my voice trail off.
‘Many couples can’t have children, Florrie,’ Luca had said quietly. ‘But usually they rally together. Acknowledge it isn’t going to happen. They’re grateful to at least have each other and celebrate the rest of their lives together, without letting despair or sorrow snuff out that love.’
‘Yes,’ I’d acknowledged, ‘some couples do. But regrettably we haven’t been one of those couples. My husband, you see, he feels…he feels like he’s not a man…in the true sense. If it weren’t for me, he might have had a slim chance of fathering a child. But the two of us together…it’s…it’s a no. It’s just not going to happen.’
‘So he sought solace elsewhere? Is that what you’re saying?’
‘Yes. It wasn’t his fault. Not really.’
‘It wasn’t his fault he slept with another woman?’ Luca had raised his eyebrows.
I’d considered. ‘Not in the true sense of the word,’ I’d insisted. ‘It wasn’t lust or…or deliberately trying to hurt me. It was…well…frustration. Disappointment. Feeling emasculated.’
‘You sound like you’re trying to justify your husband’s actions so you can excuse him. You are a very forgiving woman.’ Luca’s expression had become slightly incredulous. ‘Most men would expect to have paint stripper poured over their car, or discover their clothes hacked to pieces with the garden shears.’
I’d smiled weakly. ‘I’m not that sort of person.’
‘I can tell,’ he’d murmured. ‘You are one of life’s gentle souls.’
‘Oh I don’t know about that,’ I’d laughed mirthlessly. ‘In my head I’ve confronted the other woman a thousand times. Slapped her too,’ I’d added. I hadn’t wanted Luca to be under any illusion about me being mild-mannered. At the time I’d been devastated. And as mad as a hornet.
‘How did you find out about his…indiscretion?’
I’d sighed. ‘Marcus had gone for a shower. It was early evening and he’d left his mobile phone on the kitchen worktop. I was cooking dinner when his mobile began to ring. I didn’t know whether to answer it or not. So I peered at the display to see if it was a family member or mutual friend calling. The display lit up with a man’s name. John Smith. Unoriginal, but also unassuming. I thought it must be one of Marcus’s business clients, so rather than answer it I let it go to voicemail. But a few minutes later the mobile gave a series of beeps indicating the arrival of a text message. I didn’t open the text, but from the lit-up display I could read part of the message.’
Luca had nodded. ‘So you were able to work out what he was up to?’
‘Exactly. From what I could read there wasn’t a shadow of doubt about the romantic intention of the person that had written the text. And “John Smith” was most definitely not a man!
I hadn’t revealed to Luca the message’s specific content. But whoever “John Smith” was, the person had told my husband they couldn’t wait to see him later and shag him senseless. The rest of the message was hidden and had only been accessible if I’d opened it, which would have alerted Marcus. But I’d seen enough. As I’d mechanically stirred the gravy, I’d desperately tried to gather my wits. My husband was meeting with a woman. And later that evening.
‘So,’ Luca had prompted, ‘what did you do next?’
‘Marcus eventually came downstairs to dinner. I sat there and made small talk with him as we ate. As always, I asked him about his day. He told me it had been really boring. Then he put his knife and fork together and said he hoped I didn’t mind but he’d promised a client he’d drop some info around to their house first thing in the morning, but he’d left the paperwork at the office. He said he needed to go back to London and collect the paperwork. So I pretended to go along with it and agreed he must drive back to his office.’
‘And then what did you do?’
‘Well, I…,’ I’d looked shamefaced, ‘…I followed him.’
Luca had looked astonished. ‘Exactly how did you manage that?’
‘The moment Marcus left the house and went to his car, I grabbed my car keys off the hall table and belted after him. Obviously I kept my distance. Driving along, I allowed other cars to fall in behind his and separate us, and so successfully managed to trail him all the way to a semi-detached house in Gravesend.’
‘So not an office in London,’ Luca had grimaced.
‘No,’ I’d shaken my head as fresh tears had streaked down my cheeks. ‘My legs were shaking as I drove. It’s a wonder I didn’t drive into the car in front of me.’
‘So what happened when you got to Gravesend?’
‘Marcus parked his car. I drove past him and found a space further down the road. By the time I’d parked my vehicle, Marcus was standing on the doorstep of this unassuming looking house. I saw him ring the doorbell. I got out of my car and, using a long row of parked cars as a shield, stealthily headed towards him from the opposite side of the road. While he was waiting for the occupant to come to the door, he turned and studied the street. I immediately ducked down behind one of the parked cars. Then, shifting my position, I slowly came up and peered through the car’s rear passenger windows just in time to see the front door being opened. My husband was effusively greeted by a woman in a plunging dress.’ I’d stopped and, foraging for a tissue up my sleeve, blown my nose. ‘At that point there was still a small part of me that desperately hoped the woman was a client…that Marcus had perhaps found the so-called missing paperwork in his car, and the two of them were simply having a cup of tea while talking business.’
‘And were they?’
I’d shot Luca a look. ‘What do you think?’
‘I see. So what did you do next? Most women would have been over there like a shot, claws out and kicking the front door down.’
I’d grimaced. ‘I went back to my car and sat in it for a while. From my position I was able to see the downstairs lights go out and the upstairs lights turn on. And then the woman appeared at an upstairs window and drew the curtains. I took that as my cue to leave. I drove home, numb and disbelieving, despite what I’d witnessed. Once home, I made myself a cup of tea and sat at the kitchen table simply staring at the wall until Marcus returned. He was all smiles. He apologised for being late. There were excuses about the Blackwall Tunnel being closed and having to divert all around the houses, instead coming home via the Dartford Bridge, which had also been a nightmar
e due to a massive accident. He was really very believable. Except, of course, I knew the truth. So I nodded, and smiled, and made sympathetic noises. And then he paused. Frowned. Queried why I was sitting in the kitchen nursing a cold cup of tea. And that was when I asked him, outright, why he’d visited a woman in Gravesend.’
Luca had let out a low whistle. ‘That was very brave of you. And how did Marcus take that?’
‘He looked absolutely stunned. And horrified. And then he broke down. Said he was so, so sorry. That the affair was nothing more than plain gratuitous sex. He didn’t love the woman. It was only me he loved. It was because he felt such a failure, but that it would never, ever happen again. Next thing is I was being bombarded with flowers every night, and being told I was his sun, moon and stars, and then two tickets to Florence were pushed into my hands with Marcus insisting I was going to be romanced forever.’ Leaning forward, I’d picked up the photograph from the coffee table. ‘We walked over this bridge.’ I’d nodded at the image. ‘Marcus surprised me by producing a large red heart-shaped padlock. He opened it up, held it out before me, and said I was his beautiful wife and he would never stop loving me. Then he reached forward and snapped the padlock around a railing insisting nothing would ever shake our love again.’
‘That’s a grand gesture. And did you still love him, Florrie?’
I’d heaved a sigh. ‘Back then, yes. Back then I loved him very much. But I can’t deny I struggled to trust him. I forgave, but found it difficult to forget. And just when I felt like my heart was starting to heal, just when I was beginning to trust, it happened again.’
‘With the same woman?’
‘No. Someone else. The signs were there from the off.’
‘Such as?’
I’d briefly closed my eyes and tried not to look embarrassed. ‘The sudden lack of interest in…well…intimacy. There is a pattern. Marcus is distracted and happy. He loses interest in me. I find out. He begs forgiveness. Repeat all over again.’
Luca had looked flabbergasted. ‘You constantly forgave your husband for his repeated affairs?’
The Corner Shop of Whispers Page 12