Laura stared at her mother in dismay. ‘I didn’t mean it like that!’
‘Then how did you mean it? This is the twenty-first century, Laura Green—do you want some tea?’
‘No, thanks.’
Isabel sat down at the table again, a relentless look in her eye. ‘Once you hit your teens you got this bee in your bonnet about charity. But I had no idea you felt inferior to people who possessed more in life than we do. Was that your reaction when Frances Dysart gave you generous presents for your birthday, or included you in outings with Fenny?’
‘No!’ said Laura, horrified. ‘I don’t mean that at all. The Dysarts always seemed like family to me.’ She took a deep breath. ‘My school uniform was the start of it.’
‘Ah!’ Isabel slumped slightly in her chair. ‘The second-hand clothes from the school shop. They were a godsend to my bank balance. You never said you resented them, Laura.’
‘Because I knew it was a struggle for you to send me to the same school as Fen. But I loathed having clothes that someone else had worn first.’
‘Abby didn’t feel like that,’ said Isabel dryly. ‘She loved wearing your cast-offs, until she grew too tall.’
‘Ah, but my baby sister was not only clever enough to get a scholarship which paid her fees, she’s also blessed with a better nature than me.’
‘Different, not better.’
Laura frowned. ‘If school fees were a problem, how did you manage to send me on school trips to France and so on?’
‘Grandma paid. And if she were still with us she’d give you short shrift if you accused her of charity.’
‘I wouldn’t dare! But I wish I had known. I could have shown her I was grateful.’
Isabel shook her head in despair. ‘She did it to give you pleasure, not to get gratitude.’
‘Sorry!’
Isabel eyed her quizzically. ‘So let me just get this straight. You fell in love with a man you thought had an ordinary job, even though he lives in an expensive apartment, wears wonderful clothes—if his suit today was anything to go by—and takes you out to pricey meals?’
‘I insisted on paying for one of them!’
‘Of course you did,’ said her mother, resigned. ‘Anyway, now that Domenico’s revealed in his true colours, i.e. not just good-looking and charming but seriously well off, you’re no longer in love with him. Am I right so far?’
‘You make me sound like a complete fool, Mother. Which I am, of course, because I’m still hopelessly in love with him,’ said Laura miserably.
‘But because he was horrified at the sight of your face you told him to get lost.’
‘I had to get in first, in case he meant to dump me. You must have noticed that Domenico’s pretty hot on appearances! But a relationship isn’t possible between us anyway, because he’d lied to me.’
‘About his identity?’
‘Worse than that. In Venice he told me there was no woman in his life, and that he was in love with me. Otherwise I wouldn’t have—have got so involved,’ said Laura, flushing.
‘And is there some woman in his life?’
‘He says not, but Jess told Fen there is. So someone’s wrong somewhere.’
‘You didn’t tell me about this.’
‘I wanted to talk to Domenico first.’
‘And he denied it. Then what?’
‘He was pretty angry by that stage—’
‘You surprise me,’ said Isabel dryly.
‘He did the arrogant Venetian thing, and looked down his nose as he informed me that he had not come for boring discussion of our relationship, but out of courtesy because of my fall.’
‘Ouch! So what did you say to that?’
‘Not a lot. I just gave him the money he’d paid Signora Rossi.’
Isabel groaned.
‘At which point he said grazie and left. So that’s that,’ said Laura, and jumped to her feet. ‘Maybe I will have some tea after all, while you tell me all about the wedding. I bet Fen looked amazing,’ she added wistfully.
‘She certainly did. Only someone with Fenny’s lack of hips could carry off such a narrow column of satin. The girls looked a picture, and Frances had the most ravishing hat—’
Laura listened with determined attention while her mother described the clothes at the wedding, but got up when Isabel began to yawn. ‘Bed,’ she said firmly. ‘You can tell me the rest tomorrow, before I go back to London.’
‘Tomorrow! Look, darling, I can easily postpone my holiday for a while—’
‘Absolutely not. You go off to the Lakes with Janet, and by the time I see you again I’ll look less like an extra from a horror film.’
Laura kept to her plan, but with a lot less enthusiasm for the idea than she’d let on to her mother. And during her call home to report in when she got to the flat she was given the finishing touch to her day.
‘Domenico called here after I drove back from the station,’ said Isabel. ‘He was not at all pleased to hear you’re going back to work tomorrow.’
‘It’s not up to him to be pleased or not! What did he want?’
‘To see you, I imagine. We chatted for a while, then he went off to a dinner Jess and Lorenzo were giving for the family at the Chesterton, and I got on with my packing.’
‘Are you all set for the morning?’
‘Yes. I’m picking Janet up at nine.’
‘Then have a good time, both of you.’ Laura stifled a yawn. ‘Sorry. I need an early night. I’ll give you my number as soon as I get a new phone. Until then ring me here at the flat. And drive carefully.’
‘I always do. Take care of yourself, darling. If it’s too much for you in work tomorrow, take more time off.’
‘Yes, Mother.’
Laura had been fully prepared for loud exclamations about her appearance next day, not least because she was wearing tennis shoes with her black suit. The surprise was a lack of energy that affected her concentration. And the glasses she wore for computer work hurt her bruised face so much that by the end of the afternoon she was heartily glad to go home. She checked her mailbox in the lobby as usual, and found a parcel signed for by the concierge. Surprised, she took the lift to the first floor and tore the wrappings from a box that contained a mobile phone and a note.
This is not charity, Laura. It is a practical gift to wish you a swift recovery. Domenico.
Laura took out the pretty little object, smiling when she saw it came complete with all the latest bells and whistles. The gift was so obviously an olive branch she would be a fool to refuse it.
She rang Domenico before she could change her mind. ‘This is Laura.’
‘Come esta? You have just returned from your bank?’
‘Yes.’
‘Should you be working again so soon?’
‘Probably not. It was a very tiring day.’ Laura braced herself. ‘But it was a very pleasant surprise to find your gift when I got home. Thank you very much.’
There was a lengthy pause. ‘You are going to accept it?’ he said at last.
‘Yes, Domenico, I am.’ She paused, then told him the truth. ‘I thought it might alienate you completely if I sent it back. And I’d like to think we could at least be friends.’
‘I would like that very much,’ he said promptly. ‘So. When I am in London you will dine with me?’
‘Yes. I’ll even let you pay for my dinner!’
‘Then we make progress.’ He paused. ‘How is your face, Laura?’
She took a look in the mirror over the sink unit. ‘It’s starting to heal. I should be back to normal soon.’
‘Bene. Are you very tired?’
‘Not really.’ Which was true now she was talking to Domenico again. ‘It was kind of you to send the phone.’
‘I expected it back by the next post.’
‘Postage to Venice is far too expensive!’
He laughed. ‘Always the practical one.’
‘That’s me. Thank you again. Goodbye, Domenico.’
‘Ciao, Laura.’
Feeling a whole lot better, Laura stood in the shower for a while, careful to keep her hair dry rather than risk going to bed with it wet. She massaged more analgesic cream into her ankle, pulled on jeans and T-shirt, released her hair from its pins and tied it back with a length of blue ribbon. The doorbell rang while she was seeking inspiration about supper, and with a sigh she shut the fridge and lifted the receiver, hoping it wasn’t Claire or Ellie, or anyone else intent on cheering her up.
‘Yes?’
‘Let me in, Laura, per favore.’
She stared at the receiver in shock. ‘You’re not in Venice?’ she said idiotically, and Domenico laughed.
‘No, Laura. I am right here, outside your building.’
She pressed the release button in a daze, and opened her door to watch him taking the stairs, two at a time. He was wearing his wonderful leather jacket with jeans that had probably come from the same source as his suits. His glossy dark hair was a little ruffled for once, but his chin was newly shaved and Laura could have eaten him on toast. He smiled at her, looking so outrageously pleased with himself she laughed up at him with equal pleasure.
‘You said you would dine with me when I am in London,’ he said, and kissed her uninjured cheek. ‘So. Here I am.’
She closed the door behind them, eyeing him quizzically. ‘You didn’t say tonight! I was hoping to look rather more human before we met again.’
He scowled. ‘Do you really believe such things matter to me? I could not leave for Venice knowing you still believe this lie about another woman in my life!’
Laura looked up into the jewel-bright blue eyes and saw truth in them, along with something else that made her heart beat faster. ‘If you say it’s a lie I believe you.’
He moved closer. ‘There is no one. E verita, Laura. I had so much looked forward to seeing you at the wedding, and felt great shock to find you missing. And when I did see you—’
‘You were revolted. I saw the look in your eyes.’
‘This is not true! I felt only anguish that you had suffered such pain. And this also,’ he added fiercely, ‘is not a lie.’
‘Then I apologise.’
‘Grazie.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘But I was not truthful about the subject of our relationship.’
‘You said it was boring,’ she reminded him.
He threw out his hands. ‘This was retaliation. I came to you to arrange our lives to spend as much time together as possible, and you accuse me of having another woman!’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said penitently.
‘Bene.’ His eyes narrowed to an unsettling gleam. ‘I insist that you make this up to me.’
She smiled demurely. ‘How can I do that?’
‘You are flirting with me, Laura,’ he said, delighted. ‘You know exactly how. If you have forgotten, I will take great pleasure in showing you. But not,’ he added with deep regret, ‘until next time we meet. Tonight I am afraid to hurt you if I even kiss you.’
‘I don’t think one kiss would hurt too much,’ she whispered, and Domenico took her in his arms and laid his lips on hers with gentleness that transformed into warmth as she responded with fervour fuelled by relief that he was here and she was in his arms where she belonged. When he released her mouth at last he drew her close, careful of her injured face.
‘Tell me you are sorry for being so cruel to me,’ he commanded unevenly.
‘You got off lightly. When Fen told me you had a woman in your life I was ready to kill you,’ she said fiercely, and Domenico gave a deep-throated growl of male satisfaction.
‘You were jealous!’ He kissed her nose. ‘I like this very much.’
She smiled ruefully. ‘It was a first for me, and I hated it.’
He took a look around the small room, and tossed his jacket on a chair. ‘Come. Let us sit down together and I shall tell you why your jealousy, much as it delights me, was unnecessary.’ He drew her down on the sofa, smiling as she apologised for its size. ‘I am glad of it because we must sit very close together.’
Laura was glad, too. It was bliss to sit with Domenico’s arm round her, breathing in the scent of him. The scent she would know in the dark. ‘So why did Jess Forli think there was someone in your life?’
‘She rang me to tell me where to stay for Fenella’s wedding.’ Domenico’s arm tightened. ‘And Jess asked me, as she always does, if I had someone special in my life yet. And this time I said yes, but would not give her a name.’ He turned her face up to his. ‘I thought it best to consult you first, tesoro.’
Laura stared at him. ‘You mean it was me?’
He kissed her parted mouth fleetingly. ‘Of course it was you!’
‘I was jealous of myself?’
‘Who else would it be? I am in love with you, Laura, only you. And because you wanted to kill me,’ he added with satisfaction, ‘you are in love with me, yes?’
‘Hopelessly!’
Domenico shook his head. ‘Our situation is not hopeless at all, innamorata.’
‘It was after you stormed out of my house the day of the wedding!’
His eyes kindled. ‘I came to comfort you, and you accused me of lies and threw money at me. What man would not be angry?’
‘Sorry, Domenico,’ she said, so meekly he laughed and tugged on her hair.
‘So meek and mild, but I know better.’ He raised her hand to his lips, then stood up and pulled her with him. ‘Now, tell me where we can dine. I am hungry.’
Laura shook her head firmly. ‘I’m not going out like this.’ She grinned. ‘I do a great omelette—remember?’
‘I will never forget. And I will enjoy another very much.’ He took her in his arms and rubbed his cheek against her hair. ‘I am hungry for so much more than food, Laura, but I am afraid to hurt you.’
She tipped her head back to look at him. ‘It didn’t hurt when you kissed me. And my ankle doesn’t hurt when I’m lying down.’
Domenico’s breathing quickened. ‘You mean this?’
‘With all my heart,’ she assured him breathlessly, and smiled into his blazing eyes as he picked her up and carried her into the bedroom.
He undressed her as though he were unwrapping a priceless gift, and made love to her with exquisite gentleness that was just as rapturous in its own way as the heat and passion of the first time. And later, after sharing a vast omelette with her, Domenico made it clear to Laura that in future their lives must be arranged to allow as much time together as humanly possible.
‘If you love me, carissima,’ he said as he finally left her, ‘come to me in Venice very soon.’
‘I do, and I will,’ she promised, and stood on tiptoe for one last kiss.
The surprise visit from Domenico did more for Laura’s face and frame of mind than any medication. Within days her face was less painful, soon she was able to disguise her fading bruises with cosmetics, and there were no more problems with concentration during her working day. She received postcards from Abby in France, from her mother in the Lakes, and the newlyweds in Italy, but her regular phone calls from Domenico were the highlights of her days. She was so much happier with life it caused comment on the trading floor at the bank, with demands about who was the lucky guy.
‘I wondered why he wanted your London address,’ said her mother, when she heard the phone was a present from Domenico. ‘If you’ve kept it I take it things are more cordial between you now?’
‘Much more. He came to see me and explained a few things.’
‘Did he, indeed? I take it there is no lady in his life?’
‘Other than me, no. So I’m off to Venice again once I can get more time off. I shan’t need a hotel; I’ll stay with Domenico in his apartment.’
‘Well, well, things are more cordial.’
‘He rings me up a lot to make sure they stay that way. How’s Janet?’
‘She’s wearing me out. I haven’t done so much walking in years.’
Laura laughed. ‘You’ll be
fit as a fiddle by the time you come home. And Abby’s obviously having a ball in France by her postcards. I’m glad. She deserves it.’
Domenico was unable to leave Venice again at the height of the tourist season, and Laura, wanting more than a snatched weekend break, had to wait until the middle of September before she could take more time off from the bank. In the meantime she’d been home to Stavely for a celebration dinner to mark the newlyweds’ return and admire the wedding presents, and Isabel and Abby had come to London for a day so that the three of them could hit the shops together to stock Abby up for college.
‘At last!’ exclaimed Domenico, when Laura told him her flight was booked. ‘I am tired of waiting. It is a very long time since we were together.’
Laura could have told him to the minute just how long. ‘Can you keep the entire week free?’
‘Every second of it, carissima. Is your face truly healed now?’
‘Like new,’ she assured him.
‘Ah, Laura, now that my time of waiting is nearly over I cannot wait to hold you in my arms again.’
‘Just two more weeks,’ she said huskily.
‘I will be waiting at Marco Polo.’
‘In a less impatient mood than last time, I hope!’
He laughed softly. ‘I shall be even more impatient to rush you to a boat again, but this time to a water taxi, for the fastest journey possible to my apartment.’
By which, thought Laura happily, Domenico meant to make love to her the moment they were through his door. With this in mind she went on a shopping expedition with money her mother had given her from her windfall, and spent a shamelessly large part of it on underwear.
Laura went down to Stavely regularly, but during one weekend she’d stayed in the flat the doorbell rang while she was enjoying the luxury of a late breakfast with the Sunday papers.
‘It’s me,’ said a hoarse little voice through the intercom. ‘Let me in, please.’
‘Abby?’ Laura pressed the release button and opened the door to see her sister creeping up the stairs in such obvious pain she flew down to help her. ‘What on earth’s the matter, love? Have you hurt yourself? Where’s Mother?’
When her only answer was a visceral groan, Laura put an arm round Abby’s waist and helped her up to the flat. ‘Tell me what’s wrong,’ she said urgently.
A Venetian Affair Page 11