by T A Williams
‘Looking back on it now, I suppose it was, in effect, an arranged marriage. I was a suitable match in the eyes of her family and my family felt the same way about her. Anyway, we got on pretty well together, but, like I say, we were such different people.’ He lowered his voice, even though there was nobody else in the building.
‘To be honest, she was a bit like my sister. You know – she liked the good life, the Porsche, the stupidly expensive clothes and, worst of all as far as I was concerned, she just lived for socialising.’
She gave him a little supportive kiss on the lips, but he hardly noticed.
‘I think I maybe once told you I was a bit of a hermit. I’m not really, but the fact is that I’ve never been into that sort of thing. I’ve never enjoyed being a member of the chattering classes, and I really couldn’t give a hoot who’s going out with whom, or getting engaged or married or whatever, but she loved all that kind of stuff.’
‘I remember you weren’t exactly enthusiastic at the idea of going to that drinks thing at the Palazzo Vecchio.’
‘Exactly. But the crunch came when I bought the farmhouse.’ He caught Debbie’s eye. ‘And, by the way, I’ve really bought it – myself, not my family. I bought it seven years ago, when I got the job here at the university, and I’ve got another eight years of mortgage repayments to go, but I’ll get there.’
‘She didn’t like it?’
‘She hated it. All right, I’ll admit she didn’t have a very good first impression. A family of snakes were living in what’s now the kitchen and she got a bit of a scare.’
Debbie shivered.
‘But she hated everything about it. She hated the position – said it was too remote. She hated the house itself – too old, the garden – too overgrown, and she said it was too small.’
‘Too small? I’d love to live somewhere like that.’
Dario caught her eye and smiled. ‘I know you would. I could feel it when we were there today.’
‘I loved everything about it, but especially that rose bush and the bench. If you ever take me out there again, I know where I’m going first.’
Regretfully, Dario looked at his watch and shook his head. ‘I’m afraid I’ve got to dash or I’ll miss my train. I’ll see you on Wednesday and, Debbie, you know you’re welcome at the farmhouse any time.’
‘Which reminds me, we never did discuss the appropriate remuneration for my decorating efforts.’
‘I think I know how to resolve that.’
He kissed her hard on the lips and then disappeared into his flat.
Chapter 18
Next morning at school, Debbie got two surprises.
The first was a visit from Dottor Montevarchi. He confirmed the news Debbie had received from Giancarla a few days earlier that Steven’s operation had been a success, but the surprise was when he went on to tell her that he and Steven had had a long talk the previous afternoon in the hospital. The result of their conversation had been Steven’s decision to retire. In consequence, as owner of the school, Dottor Montevarchi had come to offer Debbie the position of principal, if she would like to accept it.
She had no hesitation. She accepted the offer immediately, especially when he went on to outline the pay and conditions. At this rate, with her modelling job as well, she stood a good chance of paying off her student loan within a much shorter space of time than she had ever hoped. And that would feel so, so good.
The second surprise was a parcel. It was wrapped in brown paper and was delivered by hand. There was note in an envelope attached to the outside.
I hope you agree that this is appropriate remuneration. Thank you for everything, Debbie, not just the decorating. With love. Dario.
Inside the package was the amazing peacock blue dress. She stood there stupidly for a few moments, staring down into the box, running her fingers over the smooth surface of the silk. For some reason she found tears in her eyes and she wiped them away. Setting the precious dress down on her desk, she reached for her phone and wrote him a text message.
Definitely not appropriate remuneration. This now means I will have to work with you every weekend until debt extinguished. You shouldn’t have done this, but thank you from the bottom of my heart. With all my love, Debbie.
She didn’t get his reply until lunchtime. Presumably he had been tied up with the conference all morning.
No debt, but would definitely love your company. X.
Seconds later another text arrived from him.
Suggest you wear it on Wednesday. Claudia’s dinner parties tend to be dressy. X
* * *
Debbie ran home from school as soon as her class finished on Wednesday evening and changed into the peacock blue dress in record time. As before, she curled her hair up in that quick, casual but classy way and muttered a silent prayer of thanks to Britta. She was just checking herself in the mirror when she heard the doorbell. She ran to open it and this time she didn’t hesitate. She threw herself into Dario’s arms and kissed him until she almost ran out of breath.
As she fell back, gasping for air, he gave her a warm smile.
‘Can I take it you’re pleased to see me?’
‘You can certainly take it that I’m pleased to see you. I’m so, so pleased to see you.’
He stepped back and studied her. ‘I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again – you look absolutely gorgeous.’
They made a false start – or at least, Debbie did. She suddenly remembered the bunch of flowers she had bought for Claudia when she was already halfway down the stairs and had to dash back up again to collect it. Outside it was raining, not hard, but an insistent drizzle. She huddled against Dario underneath his big umbrella, but she knew she would have huddled against him even if the sun had been shining. The happiness she had felt out at his house in the country flooded through her whole body and she came close to purring with contentment.
It took barely a quarter of an hour to get to the Lungarno, the road that runs alongside the river. Claudia and her fiancé lived on the top floor of a fine, four-storey building and, from the marble-clad entrance hall to the state of the art stainless steel and glass elevator, it was the complete antithesis of Dario’s house in the hills. Even the mailboxes were gold. Dario’s, she had noticed on Sunday, was an old biscuit tin on a stick.
Claudia was out on the landing, waiting for them as the lift doors hissed open.
‘Ciao, Deborah.’ She came over and air-kissed Debbie theatrically, before turning to her brother and giving him an affectionate hug.
‘Ciao, big brother.’
She was wearing a dress that Debbie recognized as belonging to Flora’s spring collection, and Debbie was rewarded by a widening of Claudia’s eyes as she took Debbie’s coat from her and spotted the peacock blue dress.
‘Deborah, that dress could have been made for you. You look absolutely charming.’
Claudia accepted the bunch of flowers with a smile and led them into her magnificent apartment. Debbie was duly complimentary. Clearly, no expense had been spared in ensuring that the place looked like something out of the pages of those magazines you find in a dentist’s waiting room – the ones with adverts for multi-million-pound mansions in the front pages. Everywhere she looked, she saw contemporary style and opulent luxury.
Beautiful as it was, it only heightened her sensation of being a fish out of water. In Dario’s house in the hills, she had felt comfortable, as if she belonged. Here, she felt like a visitor from another planet. She spared a thought for what her father would say if he saw the marble floors, the silk drapes, the impressionistic paintings on the walls, and the ultra-modern furniture. Somehow, she knew it wouldn’t be, “Oh, how charming.” The thought of her grumpy old dad comforted her and she smiled inwardly.
They were welcomed by Piero, who fitted perfectly into this opulent mould. As she had seen from his photograph, he was a good-looking man, and tonight he was wearing a suit, collar and tie. What else would you wear in your own house when your
brother-in-law’s coming over for a meal, after all?
‘Deborah, I’m delighted to meet you. What a stunning dress.’ For a moment she thought he was actually going to kiss her hand, but he restrained himself and shook it instead. Then he turned to Dario.
‘Ciao, Dario, how’s the Renaissance?’
‘Hasn’t changed a lot since the last time you asked, Piero. How’s the hospital?’
‘Busy.’
Sensing a bit of a lull, Debbie decided to help Dario out with the social chit chat. She gave Piero a big smile.
‘So, are you all ready for your wedding?’
Piero managed a weak smile in return, but Debbie could see the effort it cost him.
‘You’re asking the wrong person. Claudia has all the answers on that subject.’
They went through into a spacious lounge with leather sofas, a gas-powered open fire, a frighteningly vulnerable-looking snow-white rug on the floor and suitably subdued lighting. Carefully avoiding the rug, Debbie walked over to the windows and looked out. From here she could see directly out over the river and across to the massive bulk of Palazzo Pitti on the other side, with the Boboli Gardens just discernible in the shadows of the hillside above it, and the illuminated Ponte Vecchio below it. This, she told herself, is one hell of a view. And no doubt one hell of an expensive view.
Claudia reappeared from the kitchen and Piero opened a bottle of champagne. Although very inexperienced in the ways of champagne, even Debbie recognized the Bollinger label. After clinking glasses together with the others in a rather formal toast, Debbie took a mouthful and, grudgingly, had to admit to herself that it was pretty damn good. What was that thing about money not buying happiness, but making unhappiness a lot more comfortable?
In fact, Claudia and Piero looked far from unhappy and Debbie reflected that they were living what was no doubt the dream of countless millions of couples. Maybe the fact that it didn’t get her going said more about her than it did about them. Fundamentally, she just preferred something old and simple, with a lot less bling.
She glanced across at Dario. Now, she thought to herself, when it comes to things that get me going… Sensing her eyes on him, he looked up and caught her eye for a second and winked. She felt a warm sensation course through her body, which was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell.
Claudia put her champagne down on the glass-topped coffee table and headed for the door.
‘That’ll be Isabella. They’re always late.’
Helpfully, Piero turned to Debbie and explained.
‘Isabella and Pierluigi are two of our closest friends. He’s another medic and I’ve known him for years. We shared a villa in Santorini with them back in the autumn, and we’ve been wondering where to go next year.’
Debbie felt as if somebody had slammed a massive great hammer into the pit of her stomach. She very nearly buckled under the news, as her whole life was turned upside down in the flash of an eye.
She was still desperately trying to subdue a rising sensation of panic when Claudia returned, followed by an attractive redhead and, alongside her, somebody Debbie knew only too well. The only consolation she was able to get from this encounter was the sight of Pierluigi’s face turning the colour of the rug on the floor when he clapped eyes on her.
‘Isabella, of course you know my brother, Dario. And this is a friend of ours – Deborah. She’s the director of a big English language school here in Florence. Deborah, this is Isabella and this is Pierluigi. They’re getting married only a few days after us at Easter.’
‘Deborah, I’m so pleased to meet you.’ Isabella gave her a sparkling smile. She was quite short and the red hair had probably started life a different colour, but she was attractive and ebullient. In fact, she was as bubbly as the champagne. ‘Claudia tells me you speak the most amazing Italian. I do so envy people who have a talent for languages. Personally, I’m terrible. Some days it feels like I can’t even speak Italian properly.’
Isabella glanced across at her fiancé who still looked as if he had been struck by lightning. Debbie wondered if some sort of response was required, but Isabella had no need of anything like that.
‘Pierluigi’s so much better than me at languages. He studied in England, of course, which is bound to make a difference. Isn’t that what you did as well, Dario?’
Debbie saw Dario open his mouth to say something, but Isabella didn’t give him the chance to reply either. Within seconds, she was once more in full flight.
‘When we were in Santorini, Pierluigi soon learnt enough Greek to be able to order drinks and food and everything. Didn’t you, darling? And that included buying things in the shops. Of course there wasn’t much choice in a little place like Santorini, but all the same…’
She continued to prattle on inexhaustibly and, for once, Debbie was grateful to be in the presence of somebody who just wouldn’t shut up. Isabella kissed Dario on the cheeks and then shook hands with Debbie, without a break in the flow. As if in a dream, or rather a nightmare, Debbie saw Pierluigi shake hands with Dario and then turn towards her, his arm extended.
‘Good evening, I’m Pierluigi. I’m very pleased to meet you.’ There was a flash as his eyes met hers for an instant. She read fear in them.
Debbie took his hand like it was a live snake and shook it briefly.
‘Buona sera.’
‘… and the idea I had was maybe to give the south of France a try. I know the Côte d’Azur gets terribly busy in the summer, but if we go in September, especially towards the end of the month, surely we’d be fine. Besides, I suppose one or both of us might be pregnant by then, Claudia, so it might make sense to be somewhere a bit closer to home than Greece and somewhere we could get to without getting on a plane. I don’t know what the regulations are for pregnant women on flights, but I’m pretty sure there’s something about not being able to fly after so many weeks…’
As Isabella rabbited happily on, Debbie felt Dario’s hand on her arm. She looked up from her wineglass at him. He looked worried.
‘Are you feeling OK, Debbie? You look a bit pale.’
She made a supreme effort and managed to rustle up a smile from somewhere.
‘No, I’m fine, thanks. I must have got a bit cold as we were walking here.’
‘We’ll take a taxi home afterwards.’
‘I’m sure I’ll be fine. I just need to warm up.’
The meal was excellent, the wine top class, and the conversation, at least from Isabella’s direction, flowed like water, but Debbie didn’t taste a thing and, if interrogated afterwards, would have been unable to repeat ninety-nine percent of Pierluigi’s fiancée’s non-stop chatter. All the while, she was turning over and over in her head just what this encounter had done to her and her whole future.
It was quite clear from Pierluigi’s behaviour that he intended to act as if he and she were strangers, meeting here for the very first time. The success of his plan relied upon Debbie likewise keeping her mouth shut about the events of last August. What emerged in the course of the evening was that he and Isabella had got engaged on the very same day as Claudia and Piero – Easter Monday – the previous year. So his protestations to her, back in Cambridge, that his job as a doctor had kept him free from romantic entanglements had been barefaced lies, simply designed to get her into bed.
And his lies had worked.
Debbie was under no illusions that if she were to stand up at this dinner party and announce the truth of what had taken place, all hell would break loose. Isabella would in all likelihood slap Pierluigi across the face and break off the engagement. However, almost certainly, she would then decide to shoot the messenger. Claudia, seeing the damage done to one of her best friends, would most likely fall in alongside her and throw Debbie out after Pierluigi.
As a result, Claudia would no doubt tell her mother that Debbie was a slut and an adulteress and the connection with Flora that Debbie valued so much would also be severed – lost along with her flat in the centre of Flo
rence. But she couldn’t help thinking even that was a price worth paying in order to get the truth out there. Isabella might be an air-headed chatterbox, but she looked like a genuinely nice person and it was surely Debbie’s duty to make her aware of what sort of cheat she was about to marry. However, Debbie’s overriding concern was the effect this bombshell could have on Dario and her relationship with him.
It had been her intention for some days to tell him all about her past, including Paul of course, but also Pierluigi. She wanted there to be no secrets between them as they, hopefully, started a relationship that, deep down, she knew to be something very special. Yes, he was from a different social stratum to her, but, for once, Alice was right. What mattered was the chemistry between the two of them, not their family trees.
The revelation of the connection between Pierluigi and one of his sister’s best friends would put Dario in a difficult position. How would he react, knowing, every time he saw Pierluigi in the future, the handsome doctor had slept with her before him? When all was said and done, Dario was an Italian, and Debbie knew enough about Italian opera to know that Italian men generally tended to react badly in such situations. It could be the end of their nascent relationship, scuppering it before it even started.
As the dinner dragged on, Debbie began to develop a screaming headache. In the end, she took advantage of a temporary lull in the noise levels, brought about when Isabella went off to the bathroom, to ask her hostess if she had a paracetamol to spare.
‘Of course, Deborah. Don’t forget, you’re in a doctor’s house. We’ve got enough drugs in the cabinet to treat everything from the common cold to Ebola. Come along with me.’
Debbie followed her through to what was no doubt the master bedroom. This, too, was a symphony of modern chic, steel, glass and natural wood, with a silk canopy hanging over the bed. The medicine cabinet was, indeed, packed, and Claudia produced a sheet of tablets in silver foil and insisted Debbie keep them. She poured her a glass of water and watched as she took one. But she didn’t seem in any hurry to return to the dinner table.