I put my arms around her. 'I know darling, and I know you'll help him through. It must be so tough for him after being such a fit, dynamic man.'
We chatted on and she explained how the whole thing had affected him mentally. 'He's been frightfully depressed since the amputation, so the doctors thought a few days here with us might help. Perhaps, now you're here too, it'll do him some more good. And I insist you do stay, so don't get any silly ideas now, will you, of buggering off after lunch!'
I hoped she was right. The last thing I wanted was for my presence to set his recovery back in any way.
'Well, if you say so. It could be a bit tricky but I'll do my best. Incidentally, how will he cope with the stairs?'
'No problem. I've made a bed up for him in the study and, thank God, for the downstairs bathroom. A nurse will call each day to help bathe him and check his dressings and so on. So it shouldn't be too bad.'
Surprisingly, in spite of everything, the weekend wasn't the ordeal I expected it to be. Apart from looking much thinner, it was a relief to see a glint of the old Alex still shining through from time to time. He and I reminisced a little over old times and occasionally a cloud would pass over his face, as if he wished things could have been different, that we could have stayed together.
'We were good together, weren't we, honey?' he said at last, his dark eyes gazing into mine. ‘You know I've never wanted to marry anyone else?’'
'But it would never have worked ... you and me, Alex.'
'Perhaps not,' he sighed. 'I was pleased to hear you'd married Luigi though. I never knew him that well but Vanessa and Papa always speak highly of him - and everyone knows how much he adores you.'
We were sitting in the garden and the children were romping on the grass with a space hopper. Lucy was chasing Matthew on one and he was pretending it was a monster. I began to laugh at their antics.
'Don't jump down my throat honey, but do you ever regret not having my child?'
I recoiled momentarily at this blatant question. I gulped, looking down at my hands. 'That's hitting a bit below the belt, Alex, but for what it's worth ... yeah, I suppose I do. Not that I would have been happy having a child at that particular time - and you know all the reasons why, it would have ruined everything. Now though, because of an operation I can't have children anyway, so yes, now I do feel sad about it.'
I wasn't going to tell him that it had been the abortion that had been the cause of my inability to bear a child.
He reached out and held my hand. 'I'm so sorry, honey. But you're probably absolutely right. You and I were not meant for one another; not the way things were then with your fashion business involvement and so on.'
He then flashed me a sparkling grin. 'It was still good though, while it lasted between us. Don't you agree?'
I nodded, swallowing hard, and smiled back wanly.
'I'm glad we've had this chance at least to get to know one another again; to become friends once more,' he said, his dark eyes gazing into mine. His intense good looks almost mesmerised me. Hell, to think he could still affect me this way, and briefly I even wanted to go back in time to recapture our life once more in Eaton Square. He'd been my first love after all, and he was right, it had truly been wonderful ... for a time. As I thought back over my love affair with him, I wondered if he was doing the same. For me, the pain and the delight of it still remained but I couldn't condemn him any more over past actions and the decisions that had been made. It was irretrievable now.
In a way, I was so glad this weekend had happened now. I think my being there helped him a great deal too and we ended up parting on the best of terms, with him looking certainly more cheerful. It was quite a comfort to me.
During the visit, the two children, under their nanny's careful eye, also brought another light-hearted dimension to the proceedings. Although he'd been unable to play with them, it was a delight to see the pleasure they gave him. As I left on the Sunday evening the memory of him sitting with Lucy by his side, her head resting on his arm while he read her a bedtime story, lingered poignantly with me.
As I was leaving, I told him I would keep in touch with him via Vanessa and perhaps visit him sometime at the nursing home, or wherever he moved on to. It had seemed the right thing to say at the time. Afterwards I thought better of it. Who knows what emotional results could come from us seeing one another again too regularly? Apart from that, what would Luigi think? He had of course known of our earlier affair and might read more into it and feel hurt.
*
I never pretended to know anything about Luigi's many business involvements but I was often intrigued by mysterious phone calls that he always insisted taking in his study, well out of earshot, at any hour of the day or night. This would be in any house we happened to be in at the time. My favourite was still the villa in Tuscany and this was where I always headed at weekends and where Luigi would join me.
Sometimes I wondered if he was associated at all with the Mafia, knowing that many Italian businessmen and industrialists often were in one way or another. I never questioned him though, deciding that it was probably best for me not to know about it. However, spending more time in Italy did make me ponder a little more on the subject. Luigi was always adamant about keeping his business and personal life completely separate, and I'd learned to respect that.
One weekend the bloody killing of a well-liked local shopkeeper - Mario Longo, in Prato - was on everyone's hushed lips. It was Saturday morning and I was in a shop buying a gift for a young member of the kitchen staff who was leaving to have a baby. I rarely spoke much Italian but, by this time, I was at least beginning to understand a good bit of the language.
As I sifted through rails of baby clothes on display, trying to decide which outfit to buy, I was able to make out from the whispered voices in the back room that the shopkeeper's death might have been to do with someone called Camorra. I strained my ears to hear more, wondering if this Camorra person had Mafia connections. I was then able to work out more conversation, which seemed to indicate the shopkeeper owed money. The rest was incoherent to me, until I heard someone mention the word omertà, which I was well aware referred to the code of silence in connection with the Mafia organisation, and the need to keep your mouth shut in order to avoid involvement.
The shop assistant returned. I smiled cheerfully at her, and using a poor mixture of stilted Italian and English, I handed her a pretty lemon knitted baby suit and cardigan, saying it was to be a present and asked her to gift wrap it.
That evening as Luigi and I were finishing dinner I asked him about Mario, telling him what I'd overheard.
'Where exactly did you hear this conversation, Annabel?' Luigi narrowed his eyes, looking concerned.
'In Aldina Setaro's baby shop, when I was choosing Mirella's gift. I could only understand vague bits of what they were saying in the back of the shop. They were talking in hushed voices ... for Italian women anyway, and you know my knowledge of Italian is not that good.'
'They would do well not to talk at all,' he said sharply.
'I realised that but I was only one in the shop at the time and they probably didn't expect me to understand what was being said. Could Mario have been killed by the Mafia?'
Luigi cleared his throat and shifted a little in his seat. 'Believe me it is best that you know as little as possible about such things. It should not concern you.'
I drained the last drop of wine from my glass and leaned on the dinner table staring at him. 'Come on, Luigi, I'm not stupid. Everyone knows the Mafia exist and about the impregnable structure of it, especially the way it extorts protection money from business people all over the country. Only the other day I watched a programme on English TV about it. How, in Naples, I think it is, more than half the shopkeepers there pay protection money to keep their establishments running.'
Luigi's eyes looked serious for a moment, and then, breaking into a half smile, he leaned back in his chair. 'That may be so, and in many other towns and cities als
o… but you must not assume every shop is under quite the same threat.'
He studied the determined expression on my face and with a sigh leaned nearer to me. 'Since you seem to want to continue with this conversation, my darling then let me explain a few things.' His voice softened to a whisper. 'This must not go further than these four walls.'
I nodded.
He went on. 'I do not believe Mario Longo was involved with the Mafia, not as such; but it is possible however that he was concerned with an organisation called the Camorra.'
'Yes!' I flashed. I then lowered my voice. 'I heard that name mentioned! Hasn't it anything to do with the Mafia then?'
'No,' he replied firmly, 'although its members conduct themselves in a similar style. I suppose you could say it is Mafia in another guise.' He paused to think and then quietly continued, carefully choosing his words. 'Shall we say it makes attempts to unify itself but it uses quite different methods. However, I understand it is gradually becoming a bigger organisation. There are even rumours that the boss of the Naples Camorra is actually conducting his business from prison. He was convicted for a crime over a year ago but is now believed to have the prison staff eating out of his hand.'
'Good heavens! How corrupt it all is.'
He nodded and took my hand. 'Si, and that is why, cara mia, you are best to know as little as possible about any of it.'
Luigi was stroking my hand but he stopped suddenly, an alert expression in his eyes as the maid brought the coffee in.
After the girl had gone I persisted with my questioning. 'But Luigi, why do you think Mario would have been killed?' I began pouring the coffee.
'Oh Annabel, do you really want to know?' From the pained expression on his face I was clearly beginning to anger him. But I was still dying to know.
'Why not? It really upset me when I heard about it,' I protested. 'The poor little man was shot several times and left bleeding to death in the back of his shop with no effort made to cover up the crime. Whatever could have warranted such a blatant killing? In England there would be a huge enquiry I can tell you, as well as a massive hunt for the murderer. Thank heavens organisations like the Mafia and the Camorra don't exist there!'
I felt sickened knowing that because it would probably be brushed under the carpet, no one would be charged with the killing.
'I know, but as I keep telling you, my darling, you must not let it worry you. Italian organised crime is a very different matter I can assure you. It is frequently involved with other activities besides the usual bribery and extortion.' His voice became quieter still. 'By this I mean even more lucrative fields, such as drugs and arms smuggling. But, I personally know very little about any of it really and I prefer not to get involved. So please ...'
'But why was Mario killed?' I insisted, thumping the table so hard the coffee cups rattled in their saucers.
Luigi glanced at me crossly. Holding up his hands, he shrugged, and then, leaning closer, he quietly continued. 'At a guess he probably owed the Camorra a substantial amount of protection money.'
'And do they always kill, quite so readily like that?'
Another shrug with a half smile. 'He will have had a warning first, I think, then he must have defaulted again, so they hit.' He rose briskly from the dining table. 'Come, my darling, enough of this gruesome talk.' He then turned and walked purposefully towards the open patio window.
I knew that was likely to be that and I would get no more from him.
Following him out onto the terrace, I looked through the evening dusk out over the rolling Tuscany hills. The sheer beauty of the place never failed to mesmerise me. However thoughts of poor Mario Longo's death and the ritualistic blood-rites of these evil organisations still troubled me. That such organisations were allowed to perpetuate at all horrified me. Knowing that other little men like Mario must also live in constant fear because of them seemed so incongruous in such a beautiful country. Clearly its beauty covered up a huge amount of corruption and ugliness. The omertà, the code of silence, was plainly worth observing, if one valued one's life.
Was this why Luigi was so insistent that I shouldn't concern myself about it any further?
PART FOUR
CHAPTER 25
ITALY, SUMMER 1975
Due to business pressures I’d not been to Italy for a while but I was back again at last, and this time I’d persuaded Kate to join me for a few weeks holiday.
On my accountant’s advice, I’d recently decided to expand my sales strategy to enable my Ready-to-Wear collections to become more widely available throughout the UK. Of course I still exported a small range of designs to the Far East each season, where they continued to sell as well as ever.
The new plans meant increasing my investment in production by setting up another large manufacturing workroom with more machines and staff. This was also in preparation for a possible venture into winter cruise wear.
Kate’s health had continued to concern me. She was still hooked on grass and coke and seemed on a downward spiral of self-destruction. She was also still painfully underweight and worried about her modelling future.
‘If you hadn’t kept me under contract, Annabel, I’m sure my career would have folded ages ago,’ she’d confided in a moment of despair.
It was true, she had lost some of the clout she’d previously had on the modelling circuit. At thirty-three she was reaching an age deemed old by modelling standards.
Oliver, I know, was deeply concerned about her increasing moodiness and depression. He told me she was spending longer than ever in bed recovering from a previous day’s fashion shoot. Her energy levels were certainly below par, in fact, in his view, her general poor health was becoming critical.
I wondered whether a new interest might kick-start her motivation and enthusiasm for life again, figuring that it might encourage her to take her health more seriously. So I asked her if she’d like to collaborate with me on the new winter cruise range. It was a long shot but I made out that I especially wanted her input for the designs of the swimwear range, which I would call the Kate Marshall Solar Collection.
It instantly caught her interest, especially when I’d suggested a few weeks holidaying in Italy to work on the designs together. Oliver also saw it as an encouraging sign and agreed to join us if he could, for a short spell later on. Of course it would probably take a good deal more than this to get her over her problems but at least it was a start. I wanted to do what I could for her.
After an enjoyable spell in Luigi’s enormous town villa north of Milan, where we began preliminary sketches for the swimwear, we travelled down to the smaller house in Tuscany.
On our arrival, Luigi had been visibly shocked by Kate’s emaciated appearance and alone together we often discussed her poor state of health.
‘We must persuade her to eat more healthily, Annabel. She is far too thin.’ It was late the first night just as we were turning in. ‘You were wise to suggest this visit, cara, and what a brilliant idea to involve her with the new swimwear designs.’
Luigi, as always, behaved in a thoughtful and considerate way towards her and genuinely seemed to have a soft spot for her. ‘Of course she is still incredibly beautiful but I suspect modelling is not enough for her any more. She needs something more, I think.’ He was lying back on the bed stroking my hair, something I always enjoyed. He turned and kissed my ear. ‘How is her relationship with Oliver? Are they still happy?’
‘I think so, although I only know what I’ve seen of them together. He is certainly terribly worried about her… that I do know.’ I was naked and, as I turned to punch my pillow into shape, Luigi began caressing my right breast. Sensing my arousal, his voice softening to a gentle murmur. I’d missed this so much recently and it was heaven.
‘Ah, but do they still have a good physical relationship? You have always said how important that side of things is for them. Because if that has started to go wrong and Oliver has, how you say … begun to wander… well then, that could even be par
t of her problem. After all Oliver has always, I think, been quite a one for the ladies.’
‘That’s true... I suppose he has …’ I sighed enjoying the sensual pleasure of his hand tracing a line down to my stomach. ‘But he adores her, Luigi… and I think he’s faithful to her. Anyway, Kate always insists their sex life is wonderful.’
As Luigi continued to deliciously arouse me, I found myself musing over how Oliver might be coping now with Kate away. I was still physically attracted to him and even though I knew the one-off encounter between us in Zermatt had probably been long forgotten by him, I often thought of it.
A brief orgasm shivered through me as Luigi’s hands continued to pleasure me.
*
Kate had fallen as much in love with the breathtaking Tuscany countryside as I had on my first visit. However, very much a city person at heart, she particularly liked Florence and we often shopped there. There her compulsion for leather goods knew no bounds.
Later, ready to drop from our shopping, we’d lunch at a favourite restaurant in Piazza della Ognissanti where we’d have delicious pasta with one of the many piquant sauces available.
Kate, now completely captivated by the atmosphere of the place, had started to develop a healthy suntanned glow. I felt these were all excellent signs, showing her mental state was improving as well as her physical health.
During the first few days of her stay she’d risen very late each day but, by the end of the first week, things changed and she was even joining us for breakfast by nine. This was most encouraging.
If we weren’t out shopping or doing touristy things, she was happy to stay around the villa working with me on the swimsuit designs. Jules had sent me a colour swatch of a superior new elasticised fabric, which I thought would be perfect for the range. Kate agreed.
Oliver phoned every other day and I was soon able to tell him how well things were going…
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