Mediterranean Rescue

by Laura MacDonald

  ‘You implied you needed more time to recuperate,’ he said with a slight shrug. ‘Or maybe you wanted to make the most of the time you had left in Rome.’

  ‘No,’ she replied, ‘it wasn’t that. I wanted to spend more time with you.’

  He stared at her for a long moment then, his gaze softening into tenderness, he said, ‘In that case, I suggest we acknowledge what might have been between us and enjoy what time we have left together.’

  ‘I think that sounds a wonderful idea,’ she agreed.

  ‘We have one full day left,’ he went on. ‘Let’s try and relax, see a little more of this wonderful city and simply enjoy being together.’ Leaning across the table, he refilled her glass.

  ‘I’ll drink to that,’ she replied.

  Afterwards Claire was to think of that last day in Rome that she and Dominic spent together as a moment of calm in a storm or an oasis in the heat of the desert but at the same time the precious memory of which would have to last her a lifetime. It was something which would have to be kept carefully filed in the recesses of her mind, to be taken out and relived at difficult or lonely moments in her life when Dominic seemed far away. Only by reliving those memories would she be reassured that they had actually happened.

  After meeting for an early breakfast the following morning they decided to spend at least part of the day sightseeing and catching up on those things they had missed, the Colosseum being one of them where for a time they allowed themselves to be transported back to the time of its brutal and bloody past as they visualised the days of ancient Rome, the games watched by emperors and citizens alike and the fights between gladiators and wild animals.

  ‘I’m glad I didn’t live in those days,’ said Claire with a sudden shiver in spite of the heat of the day. ‘It’s hard to believe that nowadays all that sort of thing is such an attraction for tourists…and even for children.’

  ‘So will you not bring your children here when you return to Rome?’ asked Dominic with a laugh as he took her arm and led her away.

  ‘I doubt I’ll have to make that sort of decision,’ Claire replied lightly.

  ‘Oh? And why’s that?’ For a moment Dominic looked puzzled.

  ‘Mike doesn’t want any more children,’ she replied. She hadn’t meant to mention Mike that day but something compelled her to explain. If she had hoped that Dominic might leave it there she was mistaken.

  ‘But what about you?’ he said, and momentarily he seemed appalled. ‘What do you want? Surely you want children?’

  ‘Well, yes.’ Claire considered. ‘I suppose I would have liked children of my own, but on the other hand I wouldn’t want to force the issue with Mike over something so crucial—and, besides, we have Stephen and Emma.’

  ‘Ah, yes,’ said Dominic, ‘Emma. A rather demanding young lady from what you’ve told me.’

  ‘Not really.’ Claire wrinkled her nose. ‘She suffered badly when her parents split up and I think Mike does his best to make things up to her.’

  ‘Shouldn’t it be her mother doing that if she was the one responsible for breaking up the marriage?’ asked Dominic wryly.

  ‘Well, yes, I dare say,’ Claire agreed, ‘but I think she does so as well.’

  ‘So will you and Mike be moving in together?’ His voice was almost without expression as he asked the crucial question.

  For the briefest of moments Claire considered saying no, that their relationship hadn’t reached that stage and was never likely to, but that would have been a lie and she knew she could never lie to Dominic. Besides, hadn’t she just implied that she and Mike had reached the stage of discussing whether or not they should have children? ‘That’s the plan, yes,’ she admitted. ‘Just as soon as he sells his house and finds somewhere else to live.’

  They changed the subject after that to Claire’s relief. She didn’t want to talk about Mike and her life with him, not on this one special day she had allowed herself with Dominic.

  Together they strolled through the ruins of ancient Rome, the morning sun warm on their shoulders, then sat at a table in a street café and enjoyed espresso coffee before entering the cool, magnificent splendour of the basilica of Santa Maria Maggiore, their footsteps matching the echo of countless pilgrims before them.

  Once, during the course of that magical day while they were sitting in a leafy piazza on a low wall in the cooling spray from numerous fountains, Claire found herself studying Dominic’s features as if by doing so she could imprint the memory of his face in her mind for ever.

  And once again, as had happened before, as if he had the power to read her mind, he lifted his hand and with the tips of his fingers began to trace the line of her features as if he, too, was trying to record to memory the texture of her skin, the curve of her cheek or the gentle arch of an eyebrow. After a moment of almost unbearable sweetness Claire caught his hand and held it against her cheek then, when at last she looked up into his eyes, he bent his head and his lips briefly and gently touched hers. In that instant Rome seemed to come to a standstill. The roar of the traffic receded to a dull throb and as she closed her eyes in an attempt to capture the moment and install it in her memory the sun seemed to explode behind her eyelids in a golden blaze.

  At the end of the day they opted not to dine at the hotel but to eat at an intimate little restaurant they had discovered in the course of their sightseeing. For that last night together Claire wore a dress of black with diamanté shoulder straps and matching jewelled sandals, which perfectly complemented her blonde hair and her golden skin kissed by the Italian sun.

  Throughout the evening their mood changed from the fun and laughter they had shared throughout the day to one of quiet desperation as if each of them was only too aware that the hours were ticking away to that moment when they would have to part for ever. When they finally left the restaurant and strolled back through the narrow streets to the hotel it seemed the most natural thing in the world when Dominic slipped his arm around her. He felt familiar, safe and warm, just as he had that night when he had held her close while she had slept, but this time there was an added element to their closeness. This time desire was present and each of them knew that the other was only too aware of it.

  On reaching the hotel, they took the stairs instead of the lift and by the time they reached Claire’s room it was a foregone conclusion that Dominic would stay there and not continue on to his own room on the floor above.

  ‘Are you sure?’ he murmured as the door clicked shut behind them and he drew her into his arms. Hungrily, his gaze searching her eyes, he held her face, his thumbs beneath her jaw, fingers tangled in her hair.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ she whispered, and at last his lips met hers in a kiss, in itself full of fire and passion but which proved to be only a foretaste of what was to come.

  When the black dress, chosen with such care, slid to the polished wooden floor, falling around her ankles in a dark pool, Claire raised her arms, sliding them around Dominic’s neck and arching her body in a gesture of utter submission. Effortlessly he lifted her, swinging her up into his arms before carrying her to the large double bed with its covers of crisp white embroidered cotton.

  She watched, loving every line of his firm, lean body as he undressed then, with his clothes discarded, he turned to face her and she gave a little sigh as he joined her, stretching out beside her on the bed before gathering her into his arms.

  ‘There can be no more than this,’ she told him later as once again he reached out for her, this time in the dead of night.

  ‘I know that,’ he replied, his sigh barely audible before he began caressing her and once more they visited that place whose piercing sweetness on their first visit had shaken Claire to the very core of her being.

  She had stifled any feelings of guilt, knowing there would be time enough later for regret and recriminations—this one stolen night of love was for her and Dominic alone, a taste of what might have been to sustain them in the years to come, for already she knew that what she
had found with this man would be like the man himself, utterly unforgettable.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  IF CLAIRE had imagined that time spent with Dominic would in some way assuage her feelings and satisfy her longing she was mistaken, for that precious time spent together had the opposite effect and when it was over her craving to be with him was stronger than ever. In the end, because she could not bear the final moment of parting and of actually saying goodbye, she called a car and left for the airport a whole hour before she needed to when Dominic thought she was simply in her room, packing.

  Her journey to the airport was like some exquisite form of torture for while the car carried her away from him she knew that while they were both in Rome at least they breathed the same air and that only a few miles separated them, but that once her flight took off every minute would put a greater distance between them. She saw him everywhere, of course. In a side street alongside the Vatican as they passed in the car—surely that was him, jacket slung over one shoulder, strolling over the sunlit cobbles? And later, at the airport, her heart leapt at the sight of a dark-haired man in a red shirt, until she realised he had a wife and three young children with him. Even the man in the seat in front of her on the aircraft looked vaguely familiar and had her staring at the way his hair curled slightly at the back of his neck, holding her breath, convinced that by some miracle of fate Dominic had got there before her and had booked on the same flight as herself, until, of course, he turned his head and she saw with disbelief that he was nothing like Dominic.

  He filled her thoughts constantly—as she wondered how he would react when he found she had gone without saying goodbye, whether he would be upset or relieved because he, too, hated farewells. And was he regretting even now what had happened between them? Somehow she doubted that for there had been genuine tenderness in the sex they had shared while for her the whole experience had been so wonderful that she doubted she would find such passion with anyone ever again.

  Her head ached with tension and at last she leaned back and closed her eyes, shutting out the intense blue of the sky and the white banks of clouds, their edges dipped with gold from the early morning sun as the plane soared heavenwards, carrying her away from Dominic. In time the pain in her head subsided and she opened her eyes, but as she accepted a fruit juice from the air stewardess she doubted whether the pain in her heart would ever go.

  Her first stab of guilt came when to her surprise she found Mike waiting for her at Gatwick. He was his usual, slightly dishevelled self, his expression harassed and his shirt crumpled as he scanned the disembarking passengers with narrowed eyes, and just for a moment her heart went out to him.

  ‘This is a surprise,’ she said as she hugged him. ‘I thought you were on call.’

  ‘I am really,’ he said. ‘I swapped with Susan.’

  ‘So that you could come and meet me—that was kind.’ Claire kissed his cheek.

  ‘Well, there were a couple of things really,’ he said as he took the trolley bearing her luggage from her. ‘Emma wanted to go to a friend’s house so I dropped her off first.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said, ‘I see.’ Suddenly she felt deflated, yet again second best to his daughter.

  ‘So how are you?’ Mike said a little later as she took her place beside him in the car. ‘You’ve got a bit of colour, but not as much as I expected.’

  ‘Well, no, it wasn’t really that sort of holiday…’

  ‘No, I suppose not. I guess sightseeing isn’t quite the same as a beach holiday.’ He paused. ‘What about these earth tremors, then?’ he asked. ‘You say you went to Assisi?’

  ‘Well, we set out for Assisi,’ Claire replied, ‘but the tremors prevented us from getting there.’

  ‘Some of the mountain villages were badly affected,’ said Mike. By this time they had left the airport and joined the traffic. ‘There was quite a bit about it on the news,’ he went on. ‘I’m glad you didn’t get caught up in it—could have been nasty, you know.’

  ‘Yes, Mike.’ She took a deep breath, about to tell him that actually she had been caught up in it and that, yes, it had been nasty, very nasty, but before she could do so he spoke again.

  ‘Emma’s exams went all right,’ he said.

  ‘Really?’ she said faintly.

  ‘Yes, I’m glad they are over. She was getting rather stressed about them. Oh, talking of stress, Ben Lewis has stopped work now.’

  ‘I thought he wasn’t starting his sabbatical until next month.’ Claire cast Mike a sidelong glance and found herself unmoved by the sight of his profile. He had a nice profile and usually it evoked feelings of tenderness in her, but today she felt nothing. In fact, apart from that one stab of guilt or remorse or whatever it had been when she’d first caught sight of him at the airport, she’d felt strangely devoid of any kind of feeling.

  ‘He wasn’t.’ Mike shook his head. ‘But there was some incident with a patient during the week and he got so stressed out that Richard signed him off.’

  ‘Do we have a replacement for him?’

  ‘No, not yet.’ Mike shook his head again. ‘It’s a bit chaotic, to say the least.’ He carried on talking about practice matters, and although Claire had been gearing herself up to tell him about all that had happened, she found herself abandoning the idea as a wave of fatigue suddenly hit her. There would be time enough later for all that, she told herself. She was suddenly missing Dominic terribly, as if by listening to Mike and easing back into her old life Dominic was slipping away from her. She didn’t want that to happen and certainly not yet. She wanted to be alone, to think about all that had happened and then to relive every detail of those precious hours they had shared.

  With a little sigh she turned her head and looked out of the window at the relentless British rain drenching everything in sight and the clouds of spray thrown up from the wheels of other vehicles on the motorway ahead. Italy suddenly seemed a world away—the warm sunshine, the blue skies, the laughter of the friends they had made, even the fear and the drama, and Dominic. Of course, Dominic. For it was because of Dominic that Claire knew her life would never be quite the same again.

  Mike took her straight home to the Edwardian, red-bricked house in the heart of the Surrey town of Hazelwood where for the past few years Claire had rented the top-floor flat. He carried her bags up the three flights of stairs for her, dumping them on the sitting-room floor as she picked up her mail.

  ‘Will you stay, Mike,’ she asked, ‘for a cup of tea? I’ll put the kettle on.’

  ‘No,’ he said, ‘I can’t stop, I have to go and pick Emma up now.’ He gave her a hug, putting his arms around her and for a moment holding her close. Claire hated herself because she was relieved he wasn’t able to stay. He felt warm and safe and familiar, but…he wasn’t Dominic.

  ‘Thanks for coming to meet me, Mike,’ she said when he at last released her.

  ‘No problem.’ he smiled. ‘It’s good to have you home, Claire. Shame I’m on call this weekend. We’ll have to spend some time together later.’

  ‘Yes, of course. I’ll see you at work.’

  After he had gone she stood for a moment looking round at her flat. It looked strange and a little dull in spite of the recently decorated walls and the rich blues of the rugs and cushions. The dullness must, she thought, be something to do with the vibrant, sun-kissed colours of Italy that she still carried in her head. It was silent, too, overwhelmingly silent, and every moment she expected, even willed the phone to ring, for it to be Dominic, which was crazy, impossible even, for hadn’t it been she who had said there was to be nothing more between them, she who had insisted that they shouldn’t even exchange addresses or phone numbers? For she had known with intuitive certainty that any further contact between them would be her undoing.

  Had that been ridiculous? she asked herself now as misery threatened to overwhelm her. Would it really have mattered if they had decided to keep in touch? Deep down she knew it would, for she knew that it wouldn’t have ended t
here. Sooner or later a meeting would have been arranged and it would have been almost inevitable for them to pick up where they had left off. Wonderful as that may have been, it would have led to her being forced to make a choice between Mike and Dominic—she couldn’t have both.

  And on the other hand, she told herself firmly, in allowing her mind to race ahead wasn’t she in danger of assuming too much? There was simply no knowing whether Dominic would want that sort of relationship anyway, even if she was free. By his own admission he found commitment difficult, preferring to be something of a free spirit himself and be able to take off for the world’s trouble spots as and when he chose to do so. It was one thing to have a brief fling with a woman he’d met on holiday, a woman whom he knew he had little chance of ever seeing again. It was something else entirely to start a long-term affair that would inevitable carry a deep commitment to each other.

  And wasn’t that also what she had wanted? she asked herself ruthlessly as a little later she unpacked her bags and loaded the washing machine with her holiday clothes. Hadn’t she gone utterly and completely against character and allowed herself a wild, passionate encounter with a virtual stranger safe in the sure knowledge that she would be highly unlikely to set eyes on him ever again? Of course she had, she told herself firmly.

  So, if that was the case, why was she now still feeling so desperately miserable? She should have been able to file Dominic under delightful memories, a bit like holiday photographs, to be taken out and pored over on dark winter days. She should have been looking forward to seeing Mike, to settling once again into the comfortable ritual that their relationship had become. She should have been able to simply slip back into the routine of her life with maybe just the smallest of sighs of regret, but she was unable to do any of those things because her head was full of the warmth and splendour of Italy and her heart and senses were full of a man called Dominic.