A Venetian Affair

by Catherine George

  ‘Then I should have kept the taxi. I have no car this time.’

  ‘We walk,’ she informed him, and grinned at his look of dismay. ‘A couple of carrier bags should be a doddle with those skier’s muscles of yours.’

  ‘A doddle? What is that?’

  ‘It means it should be very easy for you.’

  ‘I shall do whatever you want,’ he assured her. ‘But first I wish to unpack my clothes.’

  ‘Nice to know where your priorities lie!’ she teased, laughing.

  It was a surprisingly intimate process to make room among her own clothes for Domenico’s. When the contents of his suit bag hung in the wardrobe and the rest of his clothes were folded away in drawers with hers, Laura turned to meet a look in his eyes that told her the feeling was mutual. He held out his arms and she leaned into them, but after a few moments Domenico sighed deeply, kissed her forehead and gently pushed her away.

  ‘Now we buy this food, yes?’

  ‘Yes.’

  It was a bright, sunny day, with a sharp, autumnal edge to it, and Laura felt so happy she wanted to sing as Domenico held her hand on the walk to the supermarket. But once they started filling a shopping trolley she had to remind him constantly that her storage space was limited and her refrigerator small. Brushing aside her protests, he insisted on buying an expensive Italian coffee machine to make the Italian coffee he found.

  ‘The machine can live on your kitchen counter, Laura. I do not like instant coffee.’

  Rather than get into a pitched battle in public she gave in, mainly because she loved good coffee as much as he did. But she dug her heels in about the other things on her list.

  ‘I need basics like butter, bread and milk,’ she said firmly.

  ‘Of course. But we need other things also,’ he said, and tossed in packets of parma ham and diced pancetta. He found pasta from his own country, and got into an animated conversation with a woman at the cheese counter before making his selection. ‘Now we need the ingredients for insalata,’ he said, and Laura, very conscious of envious glances, followed in his wake as he made for the fruit and vegetable section.

  When they reached the checkout at last Laura grabbed Domenico’s wrist. ‘I pay for this,’ she hissed in his ear.

  ‘No, you do not,’ he answered, and gave her a look of blue, limpid innocence. ‘It is just a coffee maker and a few trifles of food. Surely you will allow me the pleasure of this?’

  Defeated, Laura watched the objects sailing through the checkout, and winced when the total was announced. ‘How are we going to carry this lot?’ she asked as Domenico pushed the loaded trolley to the entrance.

  ‘It is a doddle!’ He smiled in triumph, took out his phone, and rang one of the taxi firms listed near the door. ‘Allora, we wait a little,’ he said as they went outside. ‘We can plan our menu for dinner. Or would you like to go out tonight?’

  But Laura had no intention of letting Domenico spend any more money that day. ‘If you’ll be happy with something simple I’d rather eat at home.’

  ‘Bene, so would I. But I shall do the cooking. Just a simple tomato sauce for the pasta, a few crisp morsels of pancetta, some Parmigiano, and we have a feast.’

  ‘I wondered why you bought so many tomatoes.’ Laura gave him a radiant smile.

  ‘Why do you smile at me so?’ he asked in an undertone.

  ‘Because I just love being here with you like this, doing ordinary things. Normally I look on shopping as an unavoidable chore. With you it was something to enjoy.’

  ‘When we are married,’ he said, leaning nearer, ‘our entire life will be something to enjoy, Laura.’

  The time they spent together proved Domenico’s point. Laura had suggested the stay in her flat to find out if they could live together in harmony at such close quarters, and the experiment was a success. They talked non-stop, learning everything they could about each other as they lingered over breakfast, went out for a late lunch, but made dinner together at home. They rode on the Docklands Light Railway for Domenico to experience Laura’s daily commute to the bank, and went up in the London Eye to marvel at the views. The only shadow on the entire time came on the Sunday evening while they were preparing dinner together. Laura answered the phone and frowned.

  ‘Why, Edward, what a surprise,’ she said, very distinctly, and made a face as Domenico smiled wolfishly.

  ‘Just a call to ask how you are. I thought we might go out for a drink.’

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t,’ she said politely. ‘I have a friend staying with me for the weekend.’

  ‘Bring her along too. Or I could come round to you. I can bring a bottle.’

  ‘I’m afraid my friend wouldn’t like that, he’s not here for long,’ said Laura, wishing that Edward could see the domesticity of the scene. One of Domenico’s sauces bubbled on the stove, filling the air with savoury fragrance, half-full wineglasses stood on the coffee-table and Sunday papers were scattered on the floor in front of the sofa.

  ‘Oh. I see,’ said Edward stiffly.

  ‘Are you settling in well in the new job?’ she asked, sucking in her breath as two arms closed round her like steel bands.

  ‘Very well, thanks. You’re still in Docklands?’

  ‘I certainly am. Work as usual tomorrow, unfortunately, so thanks for ringing. Goodnight.’

  The moment she put the phone down Domenico turned her in his arms. ‘I am a friend of yours?’ he demanded. ‘Why did you not tell him I am your lover?’

  ‘It’s nothing to do with him!’

  ‘Did he sleep in your bed?’ said Domenico through his teeth.

  Laura’s eyes flashed angrily. ‘No, he did not! Edward and I were just friends.’

  ‘But he wanted to be your lover. It is my turn to feel jealous.’ Domenico released her, but only to turn out the heat under the sauce before picking her up to carry her to the bedroom, a gleam in his eye. ‘He still wants you, this doctor of yours. But you are mine.’

  If she’d had any doubt on the point beforehand, the following interlude convinced Laura beyond all possible doubt. As a lover Domenico was normally tender as well as passionate. But this time, fuelled by jealousy, he took possession of her like a conqueror, setting every part of her on fire as he took her to the very brink again and again until he felt her fingernails digging into his shoulders as she gasped in the throes of climax, and with a shout of triumph he surrendered to his own release and collapsed on her, his face buried against her breasts.

  Heart hammering against his damp face, Laura smoothed a hand over his ruffled dark hair, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. Making love was the only activity that ever left Domenico dishevelled.

  ‘Are you better now?’ she enquired when she had breath to speak, and he raised his head to look at her.

  ‘Much better. I was jealous.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Are you hungry?’

  Laura thought about it. ‘Yes. But I don’t think I can move quite yet.’

  ‘I am crushing you.’ He rolled over and drew her with him, frowning as he smoothed the hair back from her face. ‘That has not happened before.’

  ‘What, exactly?’

  ‘The urge to make every part of you know it belonged to me.’

  ‘Believe me, Domenico, every little part got the message!’

  He smiled triumphantly. ‘Bene.’

  ‘Now, I need food, Gian Domenico—a heaping plate of complex carbohydrates smothered in whatever you’re brewing up in that pan out there.’

  He laughed and kissed her at length, then rolled out of bed and stood up, stretching his nude, graceful body before he spun round, seized her hand and pulled her with him into the bathroom. ‘Before we eat we shower, yes?’

  ‘You bet. Hand over that frilly cap thing, please.’ Laura made a face at him. ‘If I have to dry this hair before I eat I won’t be answerable for the consequences.’

  ‘Use shorter words, per favore,’ he ordered. ‘Making love to you is goo
d in every other way, but bad for my English vocabulary.’

  Laura grinned as she stuffed her hair into the cap. ‘You mean I fried your brains.’

  For answer Domenico deposited her in the shower and turned on the cold water, avoiding her flailing arms as he joined her.

  ‘Beast,’ she gasped, turning the switch to warm.

  ‘I would enjoy making you warm again,’ he said, nuzzling her neck.

  ‘Not before I eat!’

  Later, after they’d consumed bowls of pasta with a sauce of tomatoes simmered with garlic, red onion and chillies, Domenico drew Laura down with him on the sofa and fed her grapes, one by one.

  ‘How decadent,’ she murmured drowsily. ‘Like a Roman orgy.’

  ‘I am Venetian, not Roman,’ he reminded her. ‘How do you feel now, Laura?’

  ‘Well fed and well loved!’

  ‘Bene. I feel this, too.’ He smiled quizzically. ‘But it is not what I mean. We have been together almost every minute since we left the hotel. Is that long enough to show you that we can be happy living together always?’

  So Domenico had been aware of her experiment all along. ‘I need longer than that!’

  He sighed deeply. ‘So do I, but I must return to Venice on Tuesday morning.’

  ‘And I have to go to work tomorrow.’

  ‘If you must get up early we should go to bed. But only to sleep. You look tired, amore.’

  ‘No wonder! Your reaction to Edward’s phone call was exhausting.’

  ‘How did he know you had been injured?’

  ‘He saw me at the hospital. I didn’t know Edward had transferred there.’

  ‘So he works in the neighbourhood!’

  ‘And works very long hours, like all hospital doctors,’ said Laura firmly.

  Domenico looked down his nose. ‘If he rings you again, tell him the truth, per favore. He must be convinced that there is no hope for him.’

  ‘There never was any hope for him in that way.’

  ‘I could make it even clearer,’ said Domenico silkily, ‘if you give me the name of this hospital.’

  ‘Certainly not. Now, weren’t you saying something about bed?’

  He gave her a narrowed look. ‘You think you will seduce me into forgetting about this Edward, yes?’

  Laura smiled slowly. ‘Oh, yes.’

  He caught her close. ‘You are right.’

  Next morning Laura had to wrench herself out of Domenico’s arms to get up. Hating the thought of leaving him for the best part of the day, she shut herself into the bathroom to let him sleep, but when she came out in her dressing gown, face and hair ready for the day, the scent of coffee was in the air and Domenico was leaning against the window ledge fully dressed, waiting to watch as she put her clothes on.

  ‘Buon giorno,’ he said, and kissed her on both cheeks. ‘When you are ready I will give you coffee.’

  ‘Why,’ said Laura as she slid out of her dressing gown, ‘do you like to watch me dress? From a male point of view I would have thought the reverse process more interesting.’

  ‘I like that, too. Very much. But to watch you cover your delicious body with those prim clothes you wear to work—’ He threw out his hands. ‘I cannot explain.’

  ‘I’ve certainly never had an audience for it before!’

  Domenico smiled smugly. ‘This is just for me, yes?’

  ‘Just for you,’ she agreed. ‘But only because you make such great coffee,’ she added as he handed her a cup.

  ‘I will miss you so much today,’ he said, sighing. ‘Would you like to go out to dinner tonight, tesoro?’

  Laura shook her head. ‘I want every moment here alone with you, not in some restaurant with other people.’

  ‘Ah, Laura, ti amo!’ Domenico relieved her of the coffee-cup and took her in his arms. ‘Tell me you love me.’

  ‘Surely you know I do by now?’ She smiled. ‘If not I’ll try to convince you when I come home.’

  ‘I will look forward to this all day.’ He kissed her cheek very carefully.

  Laura handed him her spare key. ‘You’d better have this in case you want to go out. See you tonight.’ She reached up to give Domenico a swift kiss and forced herself to leave him.

  Laura made sure she arrived home early for once. She unlocked the door, expecting a warm welcome, but to her disappointment there was no one in the flat. Then she smiled as she saw the note anchored down by the kettle.

  Amore, I am shopping. I will see you very soon. D.

  The doorbell rang while Laura was hanging her jacket in the wardrobe and she rushed through the living room to open the door. Her radiant smile died abruptly. Instead of Domenico it was Edward, with flowers.

  ‘Someone left the building as I arrived so I was able to come straight up.’ He handed her the small bouquet.

  ‘Thank you for the flowers, but I’m sorry, I can’t ask you in.’ Laura stood square in the doorway, keeping him outside on the landing. ‘I’m expecting Domenico back any minute.’

  ‘Is this the ‘‘friend’’? I thought he would have gone by now.’ Edward scowled. ‘He’s your lover, I suppose?’

  ‘Yes, he is,’ she said bluntly.

  ‘Is he your reason for turning me down?’

  ‘No. He was nothing to do with it. I met Domenico later, on a trip to Venice.’ Go, go, ordered Laura silently.

  ‘Love at first sight, I suppose,’ he snapped, staring moodily into the stairwell. Then he smiled suddenly. ‘By the way, Laura,’ he said, raising his voice, ‘I trust there were no complications after losing the baby?’

  ‘No—’ Laura stopped dead as Domenico came into view. ‘Hi, you’re back,’ she said inanely. ‘Let me introduce you. Domenico Chiesa—Dr Edward Lassiter.’

  ‘Piacere,’ said Domenico tersely.

  ‘Hello, there.’ Edward acknowledged him with a brief nod, then smiled smugly at Laura. ‘Must dash. See you.’

  She closed the door on him in relief. ‘Sorry about that.’

  Domenico eyed her in unsettling silence for a moment. ‘Why did he come here tonight?’ he demanded.

  ‘To ask if you were my reason for turning him down.’

  Domenico gave her a look that rang alarm bells in her head. ‘As I came up the stairs I heard him ask a quite different question.’

  Laura looked away quickly, powerless to control the rush of colour in her face. ‘He was referring to a friend of mine, who lost a baby recently. Edward was on duty when I rushed her to the hospital.’

  ‘What friend is this?’ he demanded.

  She turned to face him. ‘You know I can’t tell you her name, Domenico.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘It’s a private, personal thing. I promised her I wouldn’t tell a soul. Ever.’

  Domenico flung away to the window, to stare blindly at the lights of London, desperately wanting to believe Laura. But her face had flushed with such obvious guilt it was impossible to ignore the doubts gnawing at him. He took in a deep breath and turned round to look at her, his heart contracting when he saw that the colour had drained from her face, leaving it milk-pale. ‘Laura, are you asking me to believe that a busy doctor came here tonight just to ask about your friend?’ he asked at last.

  Her eyes narrowed. ‘What exactly are you implying?’

  Suddenly his suspicions boiled to the surface. ‘I think that you are the one who had this aborto! Why in the name of God did you not tell me?’

  Laura felt as though every drop of blood in her veins had frozen solid. She stared at his haggard face in icy outrage. ‘How can you possibly believe such a thing?’ she demanded.

  He seized her by the shoulders, his olive skin ashen as his eyes bored down into hers. ‘Tell me the truth, Laura! Were you expecting my child?’

  ‘No, I was not.’ Her eyes clashed with his angrily. ‘Take your hands off me.’

  Domenico’s hands dropped, but his eyes stayed locked with hers. ‘So why did Edward speak of this mysterious other woman? In my c
ountry doctors never reveal details of their patients.’

  ‘They don’t here, either. Edward was too clever to name names. I suppose he saw you coming up the stairs and seized the moment to settle old scores.’ Laura stared back at him, her eyes unwavering.

  ‘How did he know who I was?’

  ‘I mentioned your name and told him I met you in Venice. One look at you was enough to tell him who you were.’ She stepped back, her eyes remote and cold as discs of gold glass. ‘Edward waited quite a while to get his own back on me for the ring episode, but he did an excellent job when he finally got round to it.’

  Domenico felt stabbed by sudden doubt. He threw out a hand. ‘Laura, just give me the name of this friend who lost a baby and I will apologise with all my heart.’

  ‘I can’t do that. I don’t want your apologies, either,’ she said scathingly. ‘Words are easy. After all, not so long ago you promised to love me forever, and like a fool I believed you meant it.’

  ‘I did mean it!’ He made an involuntary move towards her, his mouth twisting as she backed away. ‘It is the truth, Laura.’

  ‘Why should I believe you? You refuse to believe me.’ She felt suddenly bone-tired. ‘Please leave, Domenico. Now. I’m sure your hotel will find a bed for you.’

  He stared at her incredulously. ‘You mean this?’

  ‘Never more serious in my life,’ she assured him, with indifference that so obviously enraged Domenico she felt a fleeting surge of triumph.

  For a moment or two the silence throbbed like a living presence in the room as they stood motionless, staring into each other’s eyes.

  ‘Be very careful. If I go now, Laura,’ he warned at last, his voice utterly devoid of emotion, ‘I will not come back.’

  She shrugged. ‘Fine by me. I’ll ring for a taxi.’

  ‘Do not trouble. I shall do that myself,’ he said with hauteur, and strode into the bedroom.

  Laura stared after him in misery, feeling as though her world were breaking in pieces around her. But after a moment she squared her shoulders and turned away to find a vase for the flowers Edward had picked up at a garage, from the tag on the wrapping paper. Shaken and sick, she fiddled with them blindly until Domenico returned with his luggage.