'Christ, you have the most fantastic boobs,' he mumbled, squeezing my nipples. I shrugged out of my blouse.
His hand went behind to undo my bra and as my rounded breasts revealed themselves, he bent to take each one in his mouth. I held his head, gently fingering his dark wavy hair as he enjoyed me, happy to allow him to do all he wanted. Tonight I was his.
I half expected to be pulled down onto the sofa but instead he twisted his fingers in mine. 'Come to the bedroom,' he said huskily, gazing into my eyes.
Letting my hand drop, he let me pass. As I led, he followed, and I was aware of his eyes caressing the shape of me as I walked ahead into his and Kate's bedroom. Instantly I had a vision of Kate's thin, anorexic body, and I thought, a bit unkindly perhaps, what it must have been like making love to a bag of bones these last months. Although sex with her may still have been good, I sensed he loved the feel of a more curvaceous woman in his hands.
We didn't turn on the light; the lamplight in the hall shining through the doorway illuminated the bed enough.
At the bedside he grasped me, almost stumbling into me in his eagerness. 'I'm glad you came tonight, Annabel. This had to happen again I suppose, didn't it?'
I nodded, imagining he could see how much I wanted him. However I think, in the semi-darkness, all he could probably make out was the shape of my face.
'You don't feel offended?' he murmured. 'I mean, if you think I'm just taking advantage of a situation again then we'll stop now.' He stood back, his hands on his hips in a passive rugby stance. It was a favourite pose he often took during conversation and I'd always found it attractive.
I stretched out for him and he took my hand. 'Oliver, I do want you, it's fine... honestly. Let's say we’re both taking advantage of an ideal situation. Let's just enjoy it, shall we? Who knows when we'll get the chance again, and I promise you I don’t expect any more from you. We'll make this another Zermatt, okay? No strings.' I then proceeded to undress him. The sight of him sent a narcotic kick through my body as I remembered exactly how it had been before. He kissed me again and I found myself falling backwards onto the bed.
I closed my eyes. For a few seconds I sensed him poised above me, his legs bent on either side of me.
At this point I found myself momentarily thinking of Luigi. Hell, I didn't want to, but I couldn't help it. Oliver eyes were directly above mine and, as he massaged himself between my boobs, he gazed into my eyes. Then he drew away with a semi-satisfied sigh.
Almost as if he'd read my mind, he said, 'Have you ever been unfaithful to Luigi with anyone else? You spend a lot of time apart.'
'No, only with you. I really do love him you know. You're the only other man in my life. Sexually, that is. I often fantasize about you though. You are incredibly sexy.'
'You're pretty sexy yourself.'
I could just see his lips form a smile and my thoughts raced back to Alex, and the first time he'd told me that.
'Let's take our time,' he said, lowering his face into me.
Soon orgasmic waves were breaking over me. Next he was above me again. 'Turnover,' he whispered in my ear. I knew what he wanted. Luigi never did this and I felt another surge of lustful excitement rise within me as I turned over for him.
Afterwards as he lay on his stomach beside me, one leg straddling me, his hand stroking my shoulder, he sighed deeply. 'That was amazing! Fantastic!' he mumbled into my hair. I could feel a wet patch of saliva on the pillow, where my face had been pressed.
'Mmm, it was,' I murmured, wiping the damp hair from my face.
We slept the rest of the night away until Oliver's alarm woke us both at seven.
I rustled up some coffee but it did little to appease the uneasy guilt I felt at having been unfaithful to Luigi again. It was strange, because I'd hardly felt it at all the first time in Zermatt. This time it was more acute; a weird feeling of impending doom seemed to loom uncomfortably over me.
Studying Oliver as we drank our coffee and he prepared for work, I reminded myself that he and I weren't in love; it was purely sex. Love had never ever entered into our relationship. We were simply very close friends and bodily lust had drawn us together again sexually. Both of us were fully aware that neither Kate nor Luigi were ever at risk of losing us, but for some reason now I found little comfort in knowing this.
At seven thirty-five I hurriedly kissed Oliver goodbye and discreetly left the block of flats via the emergency exit and then walked along to where my ordered taxi was waiting.
*
Back home at St John's Wood, I let myself in to find a pile of mail on the floor behind the door. My cleaning lady had only been asked to call in twice a week to see to that, and to give the place the once over. Another neat pile of letters lay on the hall table.
Upstairs I showered and changed, to a vague sense of temporary reprieve. I was also acutely aware that by last night's actions, I'd recklessly entered an unfamiliar kind of danger zone in my otherwise pretty conventional life.
There were all the lies that would now have to be told for one thing on both our parts. Despite our mutual agreement of emotional indifference towards each other, no strings and all that, I knew that somehow things could never be quite the same any more.
It might be easy for Oliver to cope with the complexities of adultery but not so for me. I felt I'd now crossed the fine dividing line between acceptance and non-acceptance and the consequential horrors, which could evolve from the situation, were almost too scary to even contemplate.
CHAPTER 27
Later that morning, Jules and I went through the swimwear sketches that I'd brought back with me from Italy.
'Of course they're early ones yet,' I told him, 'and we'll have to run some tests first, to see if the fabrics I've chosen are suitable. I'd like to use that new elasticised jersey.' I handed him a couple of sketches. 'Cut these two designs for starters, and then have them made up in the two shades I've selected to see how they look and perform. We'll have to do a wet test too. If we can't get the right fit then we'll have to look elsewhere for fabric. Also see what you think will be suitable for the flimsy tops and cover-ups.'
'We could try the printed voile we used last season for the ruched evening dress? It comes in loads of shades.'
I nodded. 'Good idea.'
As he headed for the door, Lynda came through, taking a cursory glance at the sketches in his hand. 'You know, I didn't realise you were this serious about the swimwear. It wasn't just a ruse then, to get Kate interested?'
'Initially, yes it was, but the designs have come on so well I'd like to go ahead with it. But I've told Jules, we must achieve a superb fit, otherwise it's a waste of time attempting it. Anyway, Kate's got herself really motivated with it, which I'm delighted about.'
Then I mentioned about probably not being able to use her to model the range, because of her extreme skinniness. 'The thing is… swimwear does need a more shapely body to show it off really well. Whilst Kate still looks great dressed, she'll need to put on much more weight for this. But she has improved quite a bit health-wise while we've been in Italy.'
I glanced at my watch, realising it was almost lunchtime. 'Come on Lynda; let's go for a sandwich. You can spare me half an hour, since some of the work will have to wait anyway until the machines are repaired. I want to hear what's been going on in your life recently. How's young Simon doing?'
Grabbing my bag I slipped my arm through hers and yelled to Jules that we were off for a bite of lunch
The phone rang, but I left him to answer it.
*
When I arrived back in my office, a strange phone number in Sicily was left on my note pad. It must have been Luigi ringing me from Vito's, I decided.
Once more a momentary pang of guilt swept through me as I dialled the number. The memory of last night with Oliver was still fresh in my thoughts. Luigi must never know it happened.
Eventually a woman's voice answered in Italian. It turned out to be Vito's wife, Gina. As soon as she realised who
I was, she spoke more slowly, in broken English. But what she said echoed in my ears, leaving me numb and speechless.
'Annabel, you must understand we try to reach you before ... as soon as we know. Luigi and your friend, they go straight to hospital after the crash, but Luigi, he too bad. He dead. I so sorry, dio mio…'
Paralysed, I was totally unable to absorb properly what she was telling me. I gulped and made a halfhearted effort to speak but words wouldn't come. Gasping for breath, my whole body started to shake. The phone fell from my hands.
I could just hear Gina's voice faintly repeating my name but it didn't register in my now catatonic state. Luigi dead in a car crash? No! It’s not possible!
Lynda came bursting in through the half open door.
'Annabel, I've just heard! Jules said they rang earlier, and it's just been on the news. The radio was on in the workroom. It's dreadful!'
She rushed to pick the phone off the floor, Gina's voice continued, 'Annabel, Annabel? Please speak dio mio. Annabel!’
Lynda put the receiver to her ear, 'Hello? This is Annabel's assistant. I'm afraid she is in terrible shock. I'm sure when she recovers she will speak to you again.'
Seconds later, Oliver was on the phone speaking to Lynda. I couldn't talk to him, I felt so numb; floating in a void. Nothing was real; Luigi wasn't really dead. He couldn't possibly be! This was all a horrendous dream!
I sat staring ahead, trying to make some sort of sense of it all, while Lynda talked quietly to Oliver. 'She’s in complete shock, I'm afraid. How's Kate? Any news?'
A pause while he replied. Then she said, 'Thank God.'
Then, 'Of course, I'm sure she will.'
What the hell were they talking about? I was so confused.
She continued. 'Are you intending to go over straight away?'
I thanked God that Lynda was taking control; my head was spinning so. Were they talking about leaving for Sicily?
Lynda looked across as me. 'Look, Oliver, she's in an awful state. I don't think much is sinking in at all right now. Can I get back to you?’ A pause … ‘Yes, I'm sure she will want to. So if you could do that, it would be so helpful. Thanks a lot. Do you think it'll be tonight?' Another pause … 'Fine, I'll tell her. Thanks so much, Oliver. We’ll wait to hear from you then.'
What was going on? I staggered up and tried to get hold of the phone.
Lynda replaced the receiver and took hold of my outstretched hand. 'There’s no point. You're not in a fit state. Oliver has everything under control. He's organising flights to Sicily for you both; hopefully tonight.'
'W...what happened? How?'
Slowly she explained, as much as she knew from Oliver anyway. The car in which Luigi and Kate were driving had apparently crashed that morning in the countryside near Cefalu. Luigi was killed instantly, Kate was injured but still alive ... but her words trailed off as I shook my head in denial. It simply couldn't believe it to be true.
Again I was confused, my head swirling in a kind of vortex. I sat down, holding it in my hands. A dull pain was twisting itself round and round inside me now. I started to hug myself, but Lynda came to me and encompassed me in her arms. 'I know, my love. It's hard to take in. Even I'm finding it difficult, but for now you must trust me. We'll look after you. Don't try to do or say anything. You've had one helluva shock ... why don't you go upstairs and lie down?'
I moved away and looked at her, trying hard to concentrate my thoughts on the one-sided conversation I'd just heard, and what she'd just told me.
'It is true, isn't it?' I mumbled. 'There’s been a crash and Luigi’s dead?'
Lynda nodded, solemnly. 'I’m afraid so, darling. I wish I could ...'
I turned and walked away not wanting to hear anything she had to say. My heart felt leaden and ached unbearably with sadness, as a more concentrated pain centred itself deep within in my chest. I wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn't flow.
I went up to my studio and pulled down the blind. But still tears wouldn't come. I felt frozen in total limbo. I just lay on the couch for ages, staring at the dark ceiling. The studio slowly rotated around me; the darkness like a black mist hanging over me. Slowly it descended, enveloping me, but unconsciousness only seemed to last for a few seconds. Suddenly I could remember everything clearly again; reality clung to me now like a damp curtain, suffocating me.
I sat up, drawing my legs up to my chest and rocking myself back and forth. Then, at last, my tears began to flow; uncontrollable, large, salty rivulets pouring onto my knees. I wanted to lash out as the panic and torment within me made me gasp and gulp.
'Luigi, Luigi!' I cried; sobbing into the empty, darkened room. 'Luigi, why? What will I do now without you, my precious darling?'
*
Oliver and I barely talked that evening on the flight to Sicily. He was sweet and solicitous towards me, but controlling my grief was a dreadful strain. My shameful night of erotic passion with him seemed a lifetime away; now it melted into total insignificance set against the urgency and awfulness of the present.
At last I managed to ask him about Kate.
'She's holding out okay I think, thank God. She’s unconscious still but out of danger.' His voice was quivering and I knew he must be worried sick about her. I wanted to say more but the words wouldn't come. I'd never even said yet how sorry I was about her, my own grief being so all consuming. But there would be time later.
As I sat there, a grey curtain of indescribable sadness still clung to me. An image of Luigi haunted me; of what was left of his poor body lying in a cold steel mortuary drawer somewhere. The task ahead of me seemed an insurmountable barrier. Facing members of Luigi's family for one thing, many of them still unknown to me yet, seemed overwhelmingly daunting. I prayed Maria would be there to help me out when I arrived.
She was, with Vito. We both fell sobbing into one another's arms, while Vito and Oliver shook hands awkwardly beside us. I then went to the villa with Maria while Vito took Oliver to the hospital to see Kate.
As Maria sat next to me in the back of the car holding my hand tightly she tried to tearfully explain how the crash was supposed to have occurred.
'It seems, at breakfast, your friend Kate requested to go for a drive out into the country. Vito's Alpha Romeo had just come back from being serviced and he suggested they use it.' As she spoke Maria leaned forward, carefully watching the road. Georgio was driving us.
'But why was Luigi driving? Georgio, why?' I demanded, staring at the back of Georgio's dark head.
'Signora, it was ...' Georgio started to reply but was hurriedly interrupted by Maria.
'Vito's Alpha is a two-seater sports car, Annabel. That is why.' She sank back into the seat with a huge sigh.
'I see, but ... I'm still confused. Luigi hates to drive himself!' I was instantly aware that I was talking as if he were still alive. My heart ached, knowing he wasn't. Bile rose in my throat and I wanted to vomit. I swallowed hard. It was difficult enough to accept my darling Luigi was dead, but it sickened me now to know that his last moments were spent with Kate… in a fancy sports car too! Luigi was normally driven around in luxurious limousines! Hearing all this seemed so incongruous to me.
The family would be sure to only tell me what they wanted me to know. Soon they would all arrive in full force from different parts of the country. Some I knew, some I didn't. The funeral was to be held a few days’ later in Milan and Luigi's remains would be laid to rest in the family tomb there.
In spite of Sicily being a beautiful island I could absorb none of the scenery as we drove to Vito's villa. I'd have given anything to be just about anywhere else.
'Do you know exactly how the car crashed yet?' I finally managed to ask Maria. 'Was there a collision of any kind?'
Maria sighed again and squeezed my hand, running her thumb along my forefinger. 'No, not with another car, anyway.' Her voice quavered. 'The car lost control on a hill bend and hit a tree. Another car did arrive at the spot just before the engine caught fire.'
>
I caught my breath. 'I didn't know that!'
'I believe it caught fire and then exploded,' said Maria, correcting herself.
'My God! What happened to Kate then?'
'It’s believed she was thrown from the car when they crashed. Unfortunately the rescuer did not see her in time and so she must have caught some of the debris from the engine exploding. I believe her injuries are mostly bad cuts and lacerations. She is also in shock of course and has been in and out of consciousness ever since.'
I was appalled, because up to now I'd hardly given Kate's injuries a great deal of thought. Oliver obviously had tactfully chosen not to tell me too much. To think of Kate's lovely face all cut and bloody instantly upset me. How bad hurt was she? How would she cope with the horror of it, especially if she was left permanently scarred?
For a tiny moment my alter ego shamefully came into play as a sudden worrying surge went through me about whether she would able to model for me any more. But everything to do with Luigi's death had shattered me so that it was only the briefest of thoughts. Besides, something so trivial was hardly important at this time. She was alive and recovering; that was all that mattered.
Oliver arrived at the villa later that evening after having seen Kate. He appeared visibly shocked by her injuries and all that he'd witnessed at the hospital. He put his arm round me limply as I went to him.
'Will she be all right?' I murmured.
'It's difficult to tell; she's in a hell of a mess and in so much pain. Of course they're pumping her with painkilling injections. She was only half conscious while I was there and had no idea who I was. Christ! She has dreadful cuts to her face, Annabel, and I'm really worried about her right eye. Hopefully she won't lose it, but apparently there was a small piece of glass embedded at the side of it when she was found.' Suddenly he was in my arms sobbing.
Together we wept for our respective loves; thoughts of all that had happened twenty-four hours previously erased completely from our minds. The horror of the present was all-consuming.
It was later that night, as I lay alone in my unfamiliar bed that the full ghastliness of what had happened came to me. Were Oliver and I being punished for our actions? Was this a kind of retribution for our infidelity? The sense of reprieve I'd felt earlier that morning before knowing about the tragedy was now replaced by revulsion; words like guilty and condemned, repeating themselves over and over in my head. I felt I was going mad.
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