A Face To Die For

by Jan Warburton

  A mounting realisation that we had now reached the end of an era and that, from now on, there would be no accessible family left for me in or near London wracked me with sadness. In truth, I think the tears I shed were really more because of this poignant fact than anything else. Other thoughts mingled with it too, including a sense of loss again for Belinda. To have her here with me would have been so comforting. A crushing feeling of isolation enveloped me as I continued sobbing.

  Mum's hand reached out to squeeze mine, easing my wretchedness a little. She had been so brave, I thought, coping with the funeral when she had other huge worries about her own health to contend with. In two days she would be going into hospital to have the biopsy. I prayed with all my heart that luck would be with her this time.

  *

  About a week later, my prayers were answered. Philip telephoned with the wonderful news that Mum was fine. It wasn't cancer but a fibrous cyst and she only needed a relatively simple lumpectomy to remove it. Thank God!

  *

  Over the following months Silk Wrappings became my most successful range yet. Sales surpassed anything I'd dreamed possible. They continued to sell well in the Far East too. So I decided to create a mini-collection each season for that particular market.

  As the designer of Silk Wrappings, I became more famous than ever; the unusual name having caught the imagination of everyone. Silk Wrappings and Annabel Spencer had now become synonymous with one another and so I had to decide how best to proliferate on the strength of it.

  The name was a winner but I knew I couldn't continue limiting my collections to just silk fabrics. So, for my Autumn Winter collection, I decided to use the name only for evening and cocktail wear - as an ‘After Six’ range, using mostly silk or silky textured fabrics.

  The oriental kaftan look, which had gone down so well in the initial collection, was continued and I introduced a range of coordinating silk turbans and scarves, plus jewellery accessories under the same name.

  'In this way we should be able to keep Silk Wrappings going indefinitely!' announced Lynda, after another successful show.

  She was right. My turbans had suddenly become hot property and the ‘in thing’ to wear for swish occasions, be it weddings, Ascot or film premiers.

  After Christmas, on her return from Singapore, Kate Marshall shocked everyone, including me, by suddenly disappearing off to America. Hollywood had beckoned her it seemed, in the shape of a film test for a proposed remake of the movie Gone with the Wind.

  She had decided to abandon modelling to take this enormous chance. It concerned me that being out of circulation for too long might spell death to any continued career in fashion for her. What if the gamble in Hollywood failed? She could easily risk returning to nothing. The last time I saw her she’d looked pale and thin and I doubted if the movie-town regime would suit her. She had become a heavy smoker too and, like most models, she was probably also on their usual unhealthy diet of uppers and downers. Therefore, I wondered how she’d cope with the mental and physical rigours of Tinseltown.

  *

  Around this time I paid a visit to Vanessa and Rowley in their lovely rambling home in Surrey. Lucy was growing into a delightful child, but my own feelings hadn't changed, I still had no desire myself to be a parent. Nevertheless, I thoroughly enjoyed these occasions. I could revel in all the pleasures of contact with the child without having the full parental responsibility bit. This suited me fine and it never once concerned me that I seemed to have no desire for pregnancy and motherhood.

  Although Vanessa employed a nanny, she was still a devoted mother, pregnant again too; due in about six months, she often questioned me about my lack of maternal instinct.

  'Surely darling, you'd like your own children one day, wouldn't you?'

  I shrugged. 'Maybe, but not yet or even in the foreseeable future. Some of us have to keep the wheels of the fashion industry turning you know! A busy career and having babies is not compatible in my view. Anyway, excuse me, but you’ve forgotten one small point. I haven't a man to do it with, even if I wanted to!'

  'Oh, I'm sure that could soon be rectified, darling.'

  'No! Please don't inflict me with another of Rowley's farming or rugger friends! I'm really not into that type.'

  Vanessa smiled benignly. 'Let's just see how the weekend unfolds, shall we?'

  A hint of panic raised my voice an octave. 'Hey, you little sneak, what are you planning?'

  She looked coyly across at me, a twinkle in her eyes. 'Well, Luigi Garibaldi is in England, that's all. And I've invited him to dine with us tomorrow night.'

  'Oh, I see,' I said, relieved. 'That's all right; but don't go match making again, please Vanessa. Of course I'll enjoy meeting him but he'll be way out of my league.'

  'You'll love him, darling, I promise! I could quite fancy him myself if I wasn't already married, and like this.' She patted her tummy. 'You wait, Annabel, you'll fall in love with him, when you meet him, I know you will!'

  'Oh God, you’re incorrigible!' I retorted. Vanessa's perception of a desirable man rarely matched my own.

  CHAPTER 20

  Since splitting up with Alex, I'd gone through a bizarre period of denial; of temporarily being off all men in general. Instead, my business monopolised my life. Therefore, in spite of Vanessa's warning, the effect Luigi Garibaldi had on me took me completely by surprise.

  On meeting him I instantly noted his attractive Mediterranean appearance. Particularly the tanned skin, fine bone structure and almost black, melting eyes. He had luxuriant, slightly greying, dark, combed-back hair, emphasising a pronounced widow's peak hairline, which I thought gave him an attractive sophistication. Tall and well built, he certainly belied his age, which I understood to be about fifty-nine.

  We shook hands and I felt my knees weaken. Alex had been the last man to do this to me. Looking back though, I supposed I'd always had a penchant for dark, good-looking men, foreign ones especially. Okay, this one was greying and considerably older. But it made no difference … I was most certainly attracted to him. Vanessa eyed me, grinning knowingly as she watched my reaction.

  'Luigi, you sit here, darling ... next to Annabel. You two must get to know one another. Now drinks… the usual G and T for you, Luigi?'

  'Yes, please, my dear.'

  'Rowley, you do the drinks while I check on things in the kitchen,' said Vanessa bossily.

  I narrowed my eyes at her, knowing she was up to her tricks again. I offered to help but she declined. This left Luigi and me alone together while Rowley went off obediently to replenish my Martini and to pour Luigi's drink.

  His accent and relaxed manner oozed a mature sort of sexiness, which, as Vanessa had predicted, I found totally irresistible. I learnt he was here on business and that he had a flat in Kensington; amazingly only ten minute's away from Beauchamp Place. He mesmerized me and, as we talked, his dark, steady gaze hardly left my face once. Even when the others returned there were moments when I felt we could have been the only two people in the room.

  Over dinner, a delicious roast lamb meal served by Vanessa's kitchen help, and which I hardly remember eating, I realised Vanessa had been absolutely right about the affect Luigi would have on me. Whenever he spoke I found myself almost melting under his gaze.

  'So, Annabel, tell me more about your fashion business. I understand you have recently had great success in the Far East. Have you plans to export anywhere else?' His eyes scanned mine, while all the time his voice seduced me.

  'Not really, not yet. I'm... er... not sure if the time is right,' I said, fumbling for words. Heavens, this man was having a most profound affect on me. Vanessa knew it too.

  'Come on now! Annabel underestimates herself Luigi,' flashed Vanessa. ‘Everyone adores her clothes, don't they Rowley?'

  Rowley grinned. 'They certainly do. They're hot property, these days.'

  Luigi looked puzzled. 'What is this... er… hot property?

  'Sorry. It’s just an expression Luigi,' e
xplained Rowley. 'What I mean is ... Annabel's clothes are extremely popular with Vanessa's friends. They all want to be first to have her latest designs.'

  Luigi smiled and nodded. 'Ah, I see. Forgive me. Your language is most confusing at times. I do not always understand such strange expressions.' He turned to me. 'I trust, Annabel, that your designs are as beautiful as you?'

  Completely overcome by his remark I pulled a face and then smiled. Heavens, I wasn't used to being on the receiving end of such overt compliments. He was certainly quite a charmer but I wasn't complaining. It was giving my ego one hell of a boost and I was enjoying every minute of it.

  As the evening wore on I relaxed, wallowing in his attention and feeling more beautiful by the minute. I learned he lived mostly in Milan, where he presided over a number of businesses, two of them being the well-known glassworks Palio Cristallo, and the exclusive Lilla shoe, handbag and glove factory.

  'I love Italian shoes,' I remarked. 'They have such a wonderful line and cut. The finish is always so good too.'

  'Yes, we use the finest leathers - that is why. Tell me, Annabel, have you ever designed shoes?'

  'No. Apart from when I was at Art School, where we covered all aspects of fashion design, but I didn't particularly enjoy doing it.'

  'I think you were wise to specialise in what you have, my dear. Only very few shoe designers have become famous, eh?'

  I nodded, smiling. 'A good point, Luigi! Strange really, especially when you consider the importance of shoes to complete any outfit.'

  'That is true. Of course many fashion designers diversify once they become well known. Will you do that Annabel? He gazed into my eyes once again, turning my stomach to jelly.

  'Well, I've started to ... just a few accessories for now.'

  ‘Nonsense! Everyone's wearing Annabel's fantastic Silk Wrappings turbans Luigi,' piped up Vanessa.

  'I do scarves too, and some jewellery has also been doing well.' I was feeling a tad embarrassed now, hogging the conversation.

  'How interesting. That is good, my dear. I can see you are thinking right. You will, I'm sure, have many more successes. This Silk Wrappings you talk about ... it is, how you say, a good ‘gimmicky’ name. You must, I think, exploit it to the full.'

  'I intend to. My assistant and I are working on it now.'

  'Good. There are, of course, many ways you can expand. I wish you much success with it.'

  At that point Luigi rose, apologising that he had to leave because he was flying off to Milan early next morning.

  I was disappointed. After the wine and enjoyable conversation I was feeling so relaxed that I longed for the evening to go on and on.

  In the end we all wandered out to see him off at the door.

  He gently kissed my hand, whispering, 'Bella; Bella! It has been a joy to meet you, Annabel. We meet again I hope. Ciao.'

  Then he turned to his hosts, 'Thank you, my dears, for such a wonderful evening. I will be in touch. Ciao.'

  His words of appreciation rolled so eloquently off his tongue. As he climbed into his chauffeur-driven Mercedes and disappeared down the drive, I found myself hoping he was right; that we would indeed meet again.

  *

  I had never been courted before, not in the true sense of the word anyway, but that was exactly what happened over the following weeks. Flowers arrived daily; not just posies or simple bouquets, but huge sprays and full baskets, also exotic arrangements in smoked glass bowls. The bowls were exquisite Palio crystal from Luigi's manufacturing company in Milan; glassware that sold at exclusive prices in luxury stores the world over. They were in the vein of Lalique, but more delicate and colourful.

  Little messages sent with the flowers said wonderful things, such as, 'Until we meet again' and 'Only flowers can match your beauty.'

  Overcome with joy, I was at a loss to know where to put so many flowers. My little flat, office and the showroom were soon heaving with them.

  One day, a beautifully gift-packaged bottle of wine arrived by special courier. It was a fine vintage Italian red, according to Lynda, who was a little more knowledgeable than I about such things. The note with it said, ‘I hope we will enjoy this together soon!'

  'Wow, this guy certainly knows how to woo a woman!' exclaimed Lynda.

  I agreed. It was wonderful and I was walking on clouds. His message with the wine obviously meant he must be coming back to England shortly.

  I didn't have to wait long because the following day he telephoned, inviting me to join him for dinner. I was on tenterhooks anticipating the evening out with him.

  It was a delightful meal at a small Italian restaurant in South Kensington owned by a friend of Luigi's and it was obvious that his presence carried more than just a little weight. The staff danced attendance on us from the moment we entered, almost to the point of overdoing it, until Luigi whispered something in Italian to the headwaiter and they eased off.

  Over the next few days, in between dining out and dining in, Luigi presented me with more gifts, flowers, perfume and a pair of the most exquisite buttery soft, beige Lilla leather gloves... 'Especially made for you, cara mia, from my sample maker in Milano.'

  Luigi also introduced me to the delights of Italian opera at Covent Garden. It surprised me how much I enjoyed it, despite not being able to understand a word. His behaviour was always impeccable ... in fact almost too impeccable.

  Initially, I felt flattered by his respectful treatment because it conveyed to me how much he appreciated me as a woman and a person first. But I soon became desperate for more intimacy between us, more than just the restrained kisses he gave me. I wanted him to take me in his arms and make love to me. Passionate love. Hell, I'd been starved of sex for so long; I'd almost forgotten what to do. I now wanted it so badly.

  But I waited patiently, anxious not to risk ruining things between us. Dining so opulently, and visiting the theatre and opera had also allowed me the chance to dress self-indulgently in some of my more elegant gowns. One night my hair had gone wrong and, out of desperation, I wore a matching silk turban. Luigi was most complimentary and so, after that, I adopted the habit of wearing them quite regularly. He particularly liked me in strong colours, which delighted me.

  'They suit your personality so well. You are a wonderful showcase for your exquisite creations Annabel. By wearing them yourself it will make you even more famous, you will see. Everyone will notice you and want to buy your clothes all the more!'

  About a week later, we were having supper together in Luigi's elegant flat. It was a simple salad and Lasagne, prepared for us and left in the oven by his butler, Sergio, prior to his departure for the night.

  Puccini's Madam Butterfly was playing in the background as I served up the meal for us. Luigi adored classical music and in his company I'd soon discovered the many emotions it conveyed. He was an excellent teacher and clearly my musical education in the past had been sadly neglected.

  After the meal, as we finished off the bottle of red wine he’d promised we’d share together. As we relaxed, enjoying the music, a particularly beautiful duet began.

  'Oh, this song is so beautiful, Luigi…'

  'It is the love duet... molto triste, very sad... molto romantico.'

  He took my hand in his. 'Cara mia, you must think I am not an affectionate man; but that is not so. Believe me I want to be very affectionate towards you, but English women mystify me and I find it hard to know how best to treat you ... romantically I mean.' He gazed at me with dark, smouldering eyes.

  'Have you known many women, Luigi?'

  'Many? No - and not in a romantic way. My wife Lilianna and I were devoted to one another until she died ten years ago. Since then I know few women, in that sense, you understand? Only in business. So you see I am … how you say... very out of practice.'

  'Have you any children from your marriage?'

  Given my general disinterest in children, I surprised myself, but I wanted to know all about this man.

  'Sadly, no, Lilia
nna was never a well woman. She had many operations but somehow it was no good, she could not conceive. Her womb was not healthy and in the end she died of cancer. But I have a large family and between them they have many young children and I adore them all. My youngest sister Maria has two beautiful daughters and we are very close.'

  Up to this point we'd only discussed my family in any detail and I'd assumed he preferred not to talk much about his, but now he obviously wanted to.

  I learnt about his family vineyards, and about his sisters and brothers. He talked of his cousin in Sicily, who was also in the winemaking business, but Maria, his sister, was obviously a favourite.

  'You must meet her, Annabel. You will like her. My parents had her very late and she has really been more like a daughter than a sister to me, because of our age difference. You must visit Italy soon, I think.'

  'I would love to.' Our hands were still clasped and he was stroking my palm. I lifted his hand to my lips. Oh my God, I wanted him so much.

  'Luigi,' I whispered, 'it’s also been quite a long time for me, and I'm also a little out of practice, you know, but please don't feel you have to be too gentle. I'm not made of porcelain you know. I have very red blood coursing through these veins.'

  'Si, I know. But, my darling, I am scared.'

  'Scared! Why?'

  'That you will think I am an old fool. I am so much older than you. How can I know how to make love to such a beautiful young woman after so long? I feel it here, in my heart, but I do not know how my body will react.' He turned my hand over and kissed the palm. Then as he placed it round his neck our faces almost touched. 'Show me. Show me the way, cara mia.'

  We kissed long and passionately, and soon we were exploring each other's mouths. Sensual desire urging me on, as familiar ripples of pleasure stirred within me. As he caressed my breasts, he whispered, 'Bello, Bello, and many other beautiful Italian words of appreciation and love. It was subliminal ecstasy and quite unlike any other romantic experience I'd ever had. His tenderness overwhelmed me.

  I hardly remember us undressing, but soon our bodies were touching and I could feel his erection hard against my stomach. His body was still firm and muscular and in remarkably good shape for his age. He looked easily fifteen years younger than his years.