"Why do you say that?"
"Just a hunch, and perhaps by what she said. Did Bellini stay at the boathouse?"
"Why, of course not!" She stiffened, staring at me. "What makes you ask that? Bellini was just a hired help. He had a room in the village."
The restricting band of suspicion that had taken hold of me began to relax.
"Something Maria said. She made it sound as if Bellini had lived in the boathouse."
Laura put her hand on my arm.
"You mustn't pay any attention to what she says, David. The boathouse belongs to me. That is why I have given it to you. Of course Bellini didn't live there: he never even went inside it."
"Where is he now?"
"I don't know. I believe he went back to Milan. Why are you so interested in him?"
"I don't think I am. The old woman made me a little curious; that's all."
She slid her hand down my arm until it covered my hand.
"She is always trying to make mischief. Don't listen to her, David. And now you must meet Bruno. Be careful of him. There's nothing his eyes miss. Pay no attention to me when you are with him: always be on your guard."
"I'm not looking forward to this, Laura."
"Of course you're not, but let's get it over." She touched my face with her slim fingers. "Please remember, David, he means nothing to me, and I don't think I mean anything to him."
She began to move along the verandah and I reluctantly followed her.
She turned the corner of the verandah, and we came upon a long wheeled chair, standing under a shaded light, and facing the Lago. I could see the outline of a thin body under the coverlet, but a big vase of flowers on a table hid his face from me.
She motioned me to remain where I was, and went over to the chair.
"Bruno, the new man's here," she said. "His name's David Chisholm. He is an American who lives in Milan as he is studying Italian architecture. The Donetti Agency have recommended him, and he has splendid references." She turned and beckoned to me.
I walked stiff legged to the wheel chair, and stood where the light could fall on me. I felt slightly sick, and my hands were clammy. I don't know how I managed to meet the eyes that looked up at me from a thin, white face.
Bruno Fancino was about forty-five. He had a mass of hair, the colour of a dove's back. His thin long face was handsome and aristocratic, and so white and still it could have been chiselled from marble. But his eyes were alive: more alive than any eyes I had ever seen: big, black eyes that told me this was a man of outstanding abilities whose character was shrewd, kindly and humorous, but who could be ruthlessly determined if he had to be.
It was uncanny to stand looking down at him, knowing he couldn't speak nor move, and that he was as helpless as a dead man. I felt his eyes probing me with a friendly interest that made me ashamed and embarrassed, and to cover my growing confusion I bowed stiffly and moved once more into the shadows.
"Shall I wheel the chair inside, signora?" I asked.
Laura was quick to see that I might give myself away if Fancino were allowed to continue his scrutiny, and she came between us.
"We'd better get you inside now, Bruno. It's long past your time."
As she turned away from him, I saw him look at her, and I experienced a shock.
Into his eyes came smouldering anger, contempt and what could have been hatred. The look went as quickly as it had come.
I might even have imagined it, but I didn't think so.
I went to the head of the chair.
Laura turned to me.
"Would you push the chair inside now? Be careful you don't jolt it."
I manoeuvred the chair from the verandah into a vast bedroom, lit softly by concealed lights that reflected on a white ceiling.
There was a huge bed in the centre of the room. Rich Persian rugs covered the mosaic floor. The walls were hung with tapestries that even my inexperienced eyes could see were the work of some great master. Everything in the room was of good taste and must have cost a small fortune.
I wheeled the chair alongside the bed.
Laura stood at the foot of the bed, watching. She made no move to help me nor to make any suggestions as to the best way of moving him.
Nervously, and conscious that both were watching me, I turned back the bedclothes. Then I took of the thin coverlet that covered the long, emaciated body. He was wearing grey silk pyjamas, and I saw his long, narrow feet were almost like those of a skeleton's.
I put one arm under his shoulders and the other under his knees and lifted him. I expected him to be heavy, but he was so light I very nearly overbalanced. Awkwardly I laid him on the bed, pulled the bedclothes over him and stood back. I was breathing hard, and I could feel sweat on my face.
"Thank you, David," Laura said quietly. "You may go now. I shan't need you until eight o'clock tomorrow. Please be punctual."
I bowed to Fancino, and then to her, and walked out onto the verandah.
I heard Laura say, "He was a little clumsy, but he'll get used to lifting you. I'll put on the radiogram. You might like some Chopin or perhaps you'd like me to read to you?"
I wondered how he was able to tell her which he preferred. I thought how horrible it must be for him to be imprisoned in a dead body; to be at the mercy of people's kindness, never to know when they might grow tired of administering to him, sure in his mind that they would all be relieved when he was dead.
As I reached the head of the harbour steps, I heard the first brittle notes of Chopin's Etude in E Flat. I stood for a moment listening, then continued on my way down to the boathouse.
Nurse Fleming was arranging her headdress before a mirror when I pushed open the door and looked into the room next to Bruno's. She was a tall, bony woman with fierce brown eyes, a long, thin, reddish nose and a thin lipped, determined mouth. She was on the wrong side of forty, but in spite of her spinsterish, unfriendly appearance, I could see she was extremely capable; a woman to have in an emergency, who would never get flustered no matter what happened.
She glanced at me sharply as I knocked and waited just inside the doorway.
"Are you the new man?" she asked in bad Italian, and I recognized the thin reedy voice I had heard on the telephone.
"Yes, signora," I said in English.
"Don't call me that; call me 'nurse'. I shall be ready for you in five minutes. Please wait on the verandah. What is your name?"
I told her.
"Very well, Chisholm," she said. "I suppose it is too much to expect you are trained in any way for this work?"
"I'm afraid I'm not," I said, seeing she was determined to disapprove of me.
She made an impatient movement.
"I have asked Mrs. Fancino time after time to engage a trained man. Dr. Perelli could get someone without any trouble, but she will engage these men herself. Well, I hope you are going to be better than that dreadful man Bellini. It is only fair to tell you that if you jolt signor Fancino, I shall have to report you to Dr. Perelli."
"I shan't jolt him," I said. "And since we are both getting paid to look after him, I don't see why I should take criticism from you. If signora Fancino is satisfied, you should be too."
I walked out onto the verandah, knowing I shouldn't have spoken like that to her, but she had got under my skin. As I stood looking down at the terraced garden, I saw Laura going down the path, wearing a pair of white trunks and halter, and swinging a bathing cap in her hand.
I watched her, marvelling at the beauty of her body, and hoping she would look round and see me, but she didn't. She went down the harbour steps and disappeared from sight. After a few minutes I saw her swimming in the Lago.
"'I'm ready now," Nurse Fleming said.
She had come up silently and was at my side before I knew she was there. I guessed she had seen me watching Laura, and I gave her a quick, searching glance. Her alert cold eyes met mine, and mine were the first to give ground.
"Follow me," she said, and walked along the ver
andah to Bruno's room
Bruno was lying exactly as I had left him the previous night.
His eyes met mine and I gave him a stiff little bow. It was extraordinary how expressive his eyes were. They greeted me as plainly as if he had spoken. I had an uneasy feeling as I looked at him that he was beginning to like me. At least, his eyes were friendly and interested, but when he glanced from me to Nurse Fleming I saw by the change of expression in them how completely indifferent he was to her.
Under her instructions, I lifted him from the bed to the chair, being very careful not to jolt him. Even Nurse Fleming seemed satisfied, for I saw her give a surprised nod of approval.
"That will be all, Chisholm," she said. "I can manage nicely now."
Again I bowed to Bruno. His eyes seemed to be saying that I was a lucky fellow not to be left in the hands of this shrew. I may have imagined that was the thought that went through his mind, but I had a strong impression that was what he was trying to say.
I went out and walked quickly down the path, down the harbour steps to the boathouse. Keeping out of sight behind the willows, I looked to see if Laura was in sight. I caught a glimpse of her white bathing cap. She was about a half a mile from where I stood, and was swimming towards me.
I waited for her.
As she pulled herself up onto the harbour wall, I said, "Good morning, signora."
She didn't look round, but I saw her back stiffen.
"You shouldn't be here, David. It's dangerous. There's an old devil who lives on the Pescatori who always watches me through a telescope. He's probably watching me now. Please go away."
This angered me.
"To hell with him!" I said. "Anyway, he can't see me. Look, Laura…"
"All the same, David, please go away, and be careful you're not seen as you move."
"Is there anything you want me to do besides going away?" I asked tartly.
"You had better keep the boat clean, David. Dr. Perelli sometimes uses it, and we don't want to give him any excuses to complain. If you would do that, the rest of the day is your own. And, darling, I'm coming to see you tonight."
"Yes," I said.
She looked sharply at me.
"You're not falling under the sway of Bruno's charms, are you?" she asked, moving her long, slim legs in the water.
"I don't think so."
"He has charm, David. Even now, he makes friends more easily than I do. Would you want to be his friend?"
"Scarcely," I said curtly. "Well, I guess I'd better get on with the boat."
I walked over to the boathouse, unlocked the door and went inside.
As I began to collect the cleaning materials from a locker, I saw Laura get to her feet, take of her bathing cap and shake her copper-coloured hair free. She looked very beautiful as she stood in the hot sunlight, the halter and trunks moulded to her body, her head thrown back and her hands on her breasts.
I felt my mouth turn dry, and I had to restrain myself from going to her. Then I suddenly remembered the man on the Pescatori with his telescope. Perhaps she was posing for him, and not for me.
Angrily, I turned away and began working on the brass rail, surrounding the boat. When I looked up again, she had gone.
Laura was right. Bruno had charm. Horribly handicapped as he was, unable to move nor speak, the muscles of his face paralysed, yet his eyes were able to talk and to make friends.
That night, when I went to lift him from his chair to his bed, I found him alone. I stood hesitating, looking down at him, not sure if I should go away or wait for Nurse Fleming to come. As I was about to go, his eyes stopped me as surely as if he had told me to remain.
He looked at me with friendly interest and I could see his eyes were asking questions. I began to tell him what I had been doing during the day.
I told him how I had cleaned the boat, and how the magneto timing had needed attention. I explained what I had done, and his eyes showed their approval, "One of these days, signor," I said, "perhaps you would like me to carry you down to the boat and take you for a little trip. If I went very slowly there would be no jolting. It would make a change for you instead of being chained to this verandah."
His eyes told me he would like that very much, then he rolled them mockingly and looked towards Nurse Fleming, who had just rustled in, as if to tell me that there was no hope of that so long as she was in charge of him.
I wheeled in the chair and carried him to the bed. The operation went even more smoothly this time, and again I saw Nurse Fleming's nod of approval.
Laura came in then, and I bowed to Bruno and went down to the boathouse.
I changed into a singlet and flannels, then sat down in front of the open window, and lit a cigarette.
Yes, Bruno had charm. It wasn't often I suffered from the pangs of an uneasy conscience, but as I sat there I realized just how badly I was behaving. It didn't help to tell myself that if I hadn't been Laura's lover, someone else would have come along; that it was inevitable. If Bruno had been an unpleasant character I might have been able to accept the situation without a qualm, but since I found I liked him I began to wonder if I shouldn't pack my bags and get out.
But the temptation to remain in this luxurious apartment was very strong. The thought that Laura would be here in just under four hours to spend the night with me was also irresistible.
I began to think about Laura. Was she really in love with me?
I wondered. With her looks and money she could have had the pick of hundreds of men: men with money. Why then had she chosen me?
Thinking with an uneasy conscience about our first meeting, it now seemed incredible to me that a woman in her position should have thrown herself at a complete stranger, shabby and without money, as she had done. Was she one of those women who couldn't live without a man—any man? Since Maria had hinted that Bellini had lived in the boathouse I had been uneasy about Laura.
Although she had assured me Bellini hadn't lived there, I began to wonder if she had been lying. The more I thought about her, the more suspicious I became. Had Bellini been her lover? Had there been someone before Bellini? She had been here over four years, and Bellini had only lasted three months.
I tried to analyse my own feelings for her. So long as she wasn't near me I found I could think of her objectively. What did I know about her, apart from her physical attraction? There was something uncannily odd about her. She wasn't unlike Bruno in that respect: only her eyes seemed to be alive. When they were hidden behind her sunglasses she could have been a dead woman: as if she had trained herself not to give away her true feelings, and not to let anyone ever know what was going on in her mind.
What was going on in her mind? I wondered.
I sat brooding about her and Bruno while the hands of my watch crept on. I didn't get anywhere, but the more I thought about my relations with her, the more uneasy I became.
She found me sitting before the window. I didn't hear her come in, and she gave me a start when she touched my arm.
"What are you thinking about, David?" she asked.
I got hurriedly to my feet.
"How quietly you came in."
We looked at each other.
She was wearing a light woollen sweater and a pair of dark linen slacks. Her copper-coloured hair was caught back by a thin green ribbon. She looked very young and lovely, and her eyes were glittering and alive.
She cast her magic over me as a gladiator casts his net. I could feel myself caught up and trapped as she moved towards me. My uneasiness, my suspicions and my guilty conscience were swamped as her hands touched mine.
"Glad to have me here?" she asked, looking up at me.
The temptation was too strong for me.
"Yes, I'm glad to have you here," I said, and pulled her to me.
The light of the brilliant moon came through the open window, across the mosaic floor and onto the bed.
I stirred, opened my eyes and raised my head.
Laura lay at my side. I could hea
r her uneven breathing, and I half sat up to look at her.
She was asleep, but her body twitched and her hands opened and closed convulsively. She gave a soft little moan; the sound that had wakened me. She was dreaming, and the dream seemed to be frightening her.
I touched her shoulder.
"What is it?" I said. "Wake up, Laura: you're dreaming."
She started so violently that she nearly fell of the bed, and as she sat up I put my arm round her and pulled her to me.
"It's all right; you were dreaming."
"Yes."
She lay against me and I could feel her heart hammering against my hand.
"You must have been having a nightmare," I said, smiling down at her. "Did you think the devil had got you?"
She gave a little shiver and pulled away from me.
"What's the time?"
"Just after three," I said, peering at the clock on the night table. "Plenty of time. Turn over and go to sleep."
"No. I want to talk to you. Get me a cigarette, darling."
I rolled of the bed, groped for the cigarette box and came back. We both lit cigarettes. In the little flame of the match I caught a glimpse of her slim white body, stretched out beside me.
It was gone as the match went out. Only her feet and slim ankles lay in the moonlight.
"What were you dreaming about?"
"It doesn't matter. David, what do you think of Bruno?"
"What is there to think?" I said shortly. I didn't feel like talking about Bruno at this moment. "A fine spirit trapped in a dead body. That's all one can say about him."
"Then you like him, David?"
"I don't know about that. I admire his guts."
"You think he has a fine spirit?"
"He must have to endure the life he's leading."
"It's not his fine spirit that keeps him alive. It's an obstinate determination to keep me chained to him as long as he possibly can."
I didn't say anything.
"Do you think he'll go on much longer?" she asked after a long pause.
"I don't know."
"Sometimes I think he'll go on and on for years."
"Better not think about it," I said uneasily. "What were you dreaming about, Laura?"
"Bruno. I'm always dreaming about him." She stretched her arms above her head. "It would be wonderful to be free of him. Think what it would mean! We wouldn't have to live this hole-in-the-corner existence. We might even get married."
1952 - The Wary Transgressor Page 6