Just as before when I'd faced the earlier possibility of cancer, a whooshing sound echoed round and round in my ears, deafening me. I felt nauseous and faint again. Closing tried to absorb the maelstrom of emotions bombarding me. This time I wasn't sick.
Seconds later, Mr Jacobs' distant voice above me, roused me from my state of shock.
'Are you all right, my dear? Here, sip this.' He handed me a glass of water. I took it and began to drink. Slowly the reaction passed off.
He sat down beside me and continued to drone on with details, ‘You are still perhaps a little weak from the biopsy but it will soon pass. Of course I won't need to remove your ovaries. Fortunately, they seem healthy enough. So there'll be no risk of you having an early menopause... '
His last words shook me. No risk of an early menopause! No! I screamed inwardly, I'm only thirty-two. I don't want to become an old woman before my time! My insides knotted and I took another large gulp of water before uttering, 'You're sure there's no risk of that?'
'Absolutely. In fact I predict that you'll feel altogether better afterwards. Nonetheless you'll need to allow yourself a month or so to recover. Blood tests show that you've become rather anaemic too, but we can soon rectify that and build you up again. You'll be fine.' He smiled reassuringly.
It was arranged for me to be re-admitted a week later. I left his office still feeling nervous, but with a vague sense of relief that at least my condition wasn't life threatening. However, an aching sadness and depression soon came over me again. It was odd. Even though the state of motherhood had never, ever, held the slightest appeal before, the knowledge that from now on it would be physically impossible for me to have a child hurt like hell.
Luigi had to return briefly to Italy for two days but came straight back to be near me while I had the operation. Mum and Philip, and Kate and Oliver, by now aware of my problem, kept in constant touch, all trying to cheer me up as best they could. Everything at work was ticking over in reasonable order. Lynda, who had finally rallied to my cause, assured me things would be well looked after in my absence by her and Daniel, another recently acquired assistant who was proving most talented and quite an asset.
I therefore tried to put business completely out of my mind while I concentrated on the serious matter of getting through the op. For once I was taking my own health seriously. I wanted to be well again more than anything, in order to get on with my life. All this was a damn nuisance.
The operation went well, although it left me sore, weak and still somewhat depressed. But the cheerful flowers and the expressions of concern from everyone, plus Luigi's love and understanding gradually helped to bring me out of the blues. Then as soon as I was allowed, about three weeks later, Luigi arranged a surprise for me. We were to be privately flown to Italy for me to recuperate and enjoy a relaxing time together. Wonderful. What more could I ask for?
*
We landed in Florence and drove through Tuscany to one of his family's many homes; a delightful, rustic paradise of a mansion, hidden deep in the hills of Chianti country.
It was utterly blissful. With Oliver, Kate and the business almost forgotten, in no time we began to renew our infinite pleasure in being together. Once my energy began to return Luigi revelled in the enjoyment of showing me around, this being the first opportunity since our marriage for me to delight in the incredible Italian scenery. I also met more members of his charming family; most of whom had been just names before. Slowly I felt stronger and much happier than I had for ages.
Maria, his youngest sister who was about my age, joined us for a spell, and she and I became firm friends. We chatted endlessly and she taught me a lot about Tuscan food. With her guidance and the aid of the patient kitchen staff, I learnt to cook many dishes including one of my favourites, zuppa di fagioli, a famous Tuscan bean soup… also bistecca fiorentina, a specially prepared T-bone steak, which Luigi particularly enjoyed.
I ate myself silly; wallowing in the delights of platefuls of pasta in various sauces, crostini de fegatini - toasted country bread with chicken livers, out of this world ice creams and a local cheese called pecorina. Invariably these would be washed down with jugs of ruby-red Chianti.
'We Italians enjoy our pasta,' laughed Maria, as we prepared a prawn and chilli sauce for another pasta dish.
I laughed, holding my stomach. 'But what about putting on weight?'
Although I hadn't weighed myself, I knew a couple of my more fitted garments had become much too tight around the waist.
'Ah, but the real secret is to combine it with foods that are not so fattening ... such as salads, spinach, and other healthy green stuff. So, tonight we eat the pasta with green bean salad.' She gestured towards the bundle of fresh beans on the table. 'I assure you, Annabel, Italians do eat very healthily.'
I was persuaded. For now, I would enjoy all the fine Italian food I was offered, convinced by Maria of its healthy benefits - and to hell with my waistline!
During the early evenings, Luigi and I often strolled along the cobbled streets of some of the nearby villages where I glimpsed a leisurely pace of life, which, I suspected, had stayed the same for centuries. Gossiping on their doorsteps, old ladies would turn to murmur 'Buona sera,' as we passed, while their men, seated at pavement cafes, chattered noisily amongst themselves. I was enchanted.
However the need always for his chauffeur and bodyguard, Georgio, to be walking some distance behind us irritated me, despite my having learned to accept him as almost one of the family.
One morning, when Luigi was away for a few days and Maria and I were enjoying iced coffee on the garden terrace, I questioned the need for such security all the time.
'Is it really necessary, even when Luigi's away?' I queried. 'I know he insists that he needs to be protected, but why here ... at this remote place?' I agitated the ice in my coffee glass.
'I am surprised, Annabel, that Luigi has not told you. We, as a family, constantly risk attack from the gangs that prey on the wealthy here. Did he not tell you about the time I was kidnapped?'
I stopped stirring, and stared at her. 'No. Good heavens! When was that?'
'Some years ago, I had only recently returned from college in America. I had been used to feeling more secure over there I suppose, so I was perhaps not as cautious as I should have been. Anyway, one day I was shopping in Milano, when I was dragged down a side street and bundled into a waiting car.'
Maria's dark eyes had become pained and troubled and I wondered if she should be telling me all this. Luigi had mentioned once that she'd had some psychological problems. Could it have resulted from this horrific experience?
'How terrifying! Where did they take you?'
'I do not know. I was blindfolded and eventually taken to a place in the country somewhere, possibly a farmhouse. There was no traffic noise and I could only hear country sounds around me. I was kept chained to a bed and blindfolded during my captivity and only allowed two visits to the bathroom a day.' She paused, a disturbed, overcast expression on her angular, olive skinned face. I wondered if she should go on.
'Maria...' I touched her hand, to suggest we should finish discussing it, but after giving a huge sigh, she continued...
'It was so cruel, so awful! They never physically did me any real harm or anything like that, but I could not wash or have a bath; no change of clothing and the bed soon stank horribly because I could not always wait for the next trip to the toilet. I suffered from leg cramps also. It was disgusting!' She grimaced. 'They fed me revolting food, mostly stale dry bread and foul smelling zuppa. The smell of it lingered in my nostrils for months afterwards.' She then shuddered and gave a forced laugh, 'I can promise you Annabel, it was an insult to call it zuppa.’
'Not like our delicious bean soup, then?
'Certainly not. Anyway, eventually, after some weeks, a ransom was demanded from my family for my release. Of course they paid it and I was set free. They took me in the car, still blindfolded, and left me at the back entrance to our h
ouse in Milano, where I was found by the gardener.'
'I suppose they asked for an enormous sum of money?'
'Si, many lire…I think it was er… equivalent to …er …about one million English pounds or so. But by this time I had become ill, so they could not have kept me much longer or I might have died. I had become very weak from so little proper food.' Her face looked drawn and tense again and I realised she'd been re-living every bit of the story.
'It must have been a dreadful experience. Did they catch the kidnappers?'
She shrugged. 'It was thought they were a professional gang at least, but no, they were never caught. The family suspected they probably came from the Calabria region. They spoke in unfamiliar southern accents. Luigi organised many investigations but nothing resulted from them. Since that time we simply take obvious precautions and pray it never happens again to anyone else in our family. I specially worry about my two daughters. So they are well protected.'
Now I understood the need for bodyguards and security everywhere. Poor Maria, she looked exhausted, but I sensed she was relieved to have talked about it.
To break away from the subject I suggested we drive into Florence to do a little shopping, accompanied by a bodyguard of course.
*
As we strolled about, enjoying the atmosphere of the beautiful Renaissance capital with its magnificent architecture and fascinating shops filled with fashion jewellery and leather craft, she soon brightened up again.
On the way home, Maria suggested we called in to see an old family friend, Leonardo Selini and his wife Sofia.
Their house, snuggled on the hillside above Prato, was surrounded by olive groves. As we sat there with them enjoying proseco, a light fizzy white wine, in their delightful rambling garden, filled with oleanders and cypresses, I realised this was the perfect recipe for shedding all the cares of the world. The panoramic view was breathtaking, hazy rolling hills intermingled with uniform, sloping vineyards and golden fields of sunflowers. It was easy to understand Luigi's need to return to Italy so often and I felt I could willingly swop this anytime for London's busy hubbub.
Leonardo, a delightful, rustic old man in his seventies, had been a distinguished sculptor and restorer of fresco paintings all his life and his wife was of equal renown as an artist. I was fascinated to hear all about his work preserving the famous ancient paintings. He spoke passionately, with a strong lilting accent, about restoring the frescos. However now, as an old man who had clearly suffered some ill health, he occupied his time sculpting in terracotta, which he fired himself.
Before we left, I purchased an attractive terracotta wall sculpture of a young girl's head and one of Sofia's delicate floral paintings.
Later that evening, when Luigi arrived home from his trip, I eagerly showed him my day's purchases, a soft tan leather handbag from Florence and the painting and sculpture from the Selinis.
He admired them with enthusiasm.
'I am pleased you called to see my old friend, Leonardo. A fine sculptor ... and one of the best craftsmen around here ... Sofia also. You have chosen well. What else have you girls been up to? I hope you have not been overdoing it, cara mia?’
I shook my head. 'Good heavens no… I've loved every minute of it.'
Despite his concern for me he was clearly delighted how well Maria and I got on. I talked about our day in Florence and how impressed I was with its fine Renaissance architecture, particularly the domed Brunelleschi cathedral. Then, as we dressed for dinner, I asked him to tell me more about Maria's kidnapping. Since our talk, it had continued to trouble me on and off all day.
At the mention of it he looked momentarily anxious before relaxing. 'Yes, it was a shocking experience. She was badly traumatised and unable to speak about it after she was released. That is why she had a mental breakdown and spent many weeks recovering in a nursing home. It was months before she could talk of it, and then only very little. I am surprised she spoke so openly to you now. But perhaps it is a good thing. Rightly or wrongly, we have always tried to keep off the subject since.'
'But she brought the subject up and wanted to tell me about it, Luigi.' I said, hoping to exonerate myself from any blame in persuading her. 'I think she needed to talk, after so long keeping silent. I didn't encourage her.'
'I am sure that is so. Anyway, she seemed happy enough when I saw her half an hour ago. Maybe confiding in you, my darling, has done her good. Perhaps now it has explained more vividly to you why there is the need for us to be constantly cautious. Believe me it is necessary, especially here in Italy.' He paused, smiling. 'Cara, you must not let any of this spoil your enjoyment here. Italy has so much to offer. Now I am back we will enjoy even more of its delights together. Tomorrow, we go to a small resort near Rimini for two or three days where we have a small villa. They are preparing it for us now. You will love it, and there we will be quite alone together.'
'Wonderful. I was hoping we could to go to the coast sometime. I shall be able to cook for you too, to show you all I've learnt since I've been here. Maria has taught me to make some delicious Tuscan dishes. Your favourites too.'
'But my darling, I do not expect you to cook for me!'
'Luigi, I'll enjoy doing it!' I insisted, kissing him. ‘You'll see; I won't disappoint you.'
'You can never do that, cara!' he replied, taking me in his arms. Dinner wasn't for another half an hour and with his loving gentleness and understanding I had now regained my sexual desire. It had been such a relief to find that indulging in a little careful sex could be just as good as it had been before my operation.
Luigi was thrilled to see how well I was recovering and delighted at the pleasure I was experiencing getting to know his country. I’d never have believed anywhere could be quite so beautiful, and the agony of knowing that it must end soon stabbed at me. Nevertheless, after six happy weeks, I was much fitter and I knew I had to return soon to my business commitments.
*
After our short trip to Rimini I decided I needed to get back home to my responsibilities, while Luigi insisted staying on in London for a while to see that I didn't overdo things. Lynda had quietly married in my absence, which didn't come as too much of a shock. What did, however, was the news that she was four months pregnant! Now it all registered why she had been so preoccupied earlier on, and why getting married had been so important. She'd never shared my dislike about the concept of having babies, however, and seemed thrilled about the pregnancy.
Although I never expressed it openly, I dreaded the thought of coping without her. Therefore, the next three months were occupied getting Daniel up to speed, in order to take over Lynda's role as my right hand. I prayed he could eventually match her ability.
A pallid, lean young man, with a shock of dark harvest-blond hair, Daniel certainly possessed a refreshing and flamboyant designing talent. Unfortunately though, once Lynda left, I soon realised that despite his designing genius, temperamentally we clashed. His fluctuating moods and frequent non-communicative ways were particularly difficult to cope with. As we worked so closely together, I needed an assistant whose wavelength was more akin to my own. Clearly, it was not working out.
Because the weather was still so warm, Luigi had chosen to stay on longer in London with me. One balmy evening, as he and I were dressing to go to the opera, I found myself confiding in him about the problem I was having with Daniel.
'It can't continue,' I said, slipping into my jade, wild silk, strapless gown. Preening myself in the looking glass I was thankful that I'd lost the few pounds gained in Italy. 'He's a hugely talented designer and a good worker but we can't seem to plan or work on anything properly together. He prefers to do his own thing while I do mine. There's no true collaboration as there was with Lynda. She and I always functioned so similarly and had such a wonderful rapport. He's like a temperamental prima donna. Honestly, it's even worse than coping with Edward Hamilton!'
I had often talked to Luigi about my early days at the House of Courtney under E
dward's command.
'Well, my darling, you are the boss,' Luigi whispered from behind, as he finished zipping up my dress. 'If he does not suit you do something about it. Tell him!' He gently kissed my shoulder. As always on such occasions, he was looking immaculate in black tie and white tuxedo.
'His work is good though. I've no complaints there. I just can't stand the guy's capricious moods. How can I enjoy my work when the atmosphere in the place is all wrong? I swear, some of the customers are even noticing the friction between us.'
‘In that case, cara,I think you will have to lose him.'
'That's easier said than done,' I said, pulling a face at myself in the mirror.
'I am sure you can manipulate the situation somehow. Oh, and do not pull that silly face, my darling, because you look so beautiful, as always,' said Luigi, patting my bottom. 'Come, we will be late for Carmen.'
But throughout the opera, a great favourite of ours, my mind was half on the problem of Daniel and what to do about ‘losing him’, as Luigi had put it. Clearly, I was in for an uneasy time ahead.
CHAPTER 23
Over the next few months, things didn't get any easier with Daniel. He was constantly adapting my design sketches to his way of thinking; insisting that it would be more practical for the chosen fabric, or that it was more imaginative and original. Scribbling over my sketches with thick lines his comments could sometimes be caustic, and I began to wonder which of us was boss here.
'Annabel, for heaven sake, we have to be bolder! Look, doing it my way, it has much more pizzazz!'
Unfortunately he was usually right; by the time we'd modified a particular design it did look better and had mostly become his design. To my chagrin I had to admit he was innovatively brilliant. What I really objected to was having it thrust down my throat by him, especially whilst he was in my employ.
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