by Jane Arbor
He nodded. ‘As far as on e man can, I mean to see that Venice gets them both ways.’
After another short silence he said, ‘You argue as a man does. That is, quite logically from whatever point of view you are using.’ ‘Is that a compliment?’
‘It was meant to be.’
‘Thank you. So how differently do women argue?’ ‘Without detachment. They can’t keep an issue abstract. Like a skilled tennis player, they play the whole court until they drive one into an emotional corner and make the whole thing personal.’ ‘And which kind of argument do you prefer?’
‘Argument for argument’s sake—with a man. With a woman it
depends on one’s mood and on the woman.’
‘But with either, as you mentioned once, you always like to win?’
‘And whoever in his senses ever went to war with out meaning to win?’ he retorted, making it one of those questions which would ignore an answer.
For once he left Dinah in agreement with him. For her too, she realised with a sense of discovery, it depended on the man, and that she was contrasting him with Trevor. For too often, when she expressed herself strongly and needed a bit of fight for her convictions, Trevor would listen, and then with a phrase she had come almost to dread, would say, ‘Well, yes —this is it,’ and would then proceed to put her reasoning into his own words, deflating the whole thing like a pricked balloon. Whereas she expected and got stimulating opposition from Cesare. Also the unspoken promise that they would both survive to fight again another day. She wondered in what kind of mood he might admit to tolerating or even enjoying finding himself in what he called an emotional corner. In that mood, what type of woman could put him there, and how did he escape the manoeuvre? She supposed, by turning on the charm he must possess, if his reputation for feminine conquest were true. But the experience of Cesare playing the gallant was one she hadn’t had. Her impact on him, he made clear, was about as stimulating as a surgical dressing. As was his upon her.
Or was it? She remembered her reaction to his first criticism of her on the Pass. It had not been so much resentment as blame for herself that to him she had not appeared in a better light. Then he had been a stranger whom she expected never to meet again. But between then and when chance had thrown them together again, her thoughts had carried an impression of him—his looks, his manner, his voice, and though, if they had not met again, she would have forgotten him, when they did her awareness of him had deepened. When he was not there she thought of him more often than she did of Trevor, which was, at the least, disturbing.
Trevor ‘out of sight, out of mind’? And Cesare Vidal, always intrusive, always demanding and get ting her thoughts’ attention— surely that was a crazy state of affairs? Before he left England she had been practically engaged to Trevor! Even now, whether or not he loved her, she thought he took their future for granted. Whereas she did not any longer. Because of this man who had laid cool claim to her leisure for his own self-interested ends, and for whom she had no function but that of escort to the twins? She told herself she hoped not, but her honesty feared it might be so.
Fleetingly she thought, ‘If he ever made a pass; if he ever kissed me with any show of passion, I should know what he meant to me,’—and then saw the absurdity of envisaging any such likelihood. She was not even a potential conquest to him; she was merely a female who argued like a man!
The launch wove in and out of the miniature archipelago which stood off from the island of Torcello.
Cesare went close inshore and circled it and then set course for the return journey. Presently, out in open water, he cut the engine, allowing the boat to drift at its pleasure, his hand lightly on the wheel now and then.
‘Do you suppose the party will be over by the time we get back?’ he asked.
Dinah said, ‘Oh, surely? We must have been out for nearly an hour.’
‘Better give them a little more grace. ‘You’re not cold?’
‘No.’ She looked up at the new moon, easing back in her seat to do so. ‘I’m glad to have seen it for the first time out here,’ she said idly. ‘In England we say it’s unlucky to see it through glass.’ Cesare stared up at the moon himself. ‘Unlucky? What a very negative approach! ’ he murmured. ;
Dinah laughed. ‘Very well—lucky then, to see it out of doors.’ ‘That’s better. Much more positive and cheermak ing. Now we say, “A growing moon and a lazy tide make a good time for
love.” So could you approve equally of that?’
What to reply? The only way was to play it lightly. ‘I think I’d say of that, that probably only experience could tell,’ she answered.
His glance abandoned the moon and came back to her. There was raillery in his tone as he countered, ‘Conceding, thou gh, that to gain experience it’s necessary to experiment?’
‘Yes, perhaps.’ W here was this leading? Surely not to the invitation she had decided was unthinkable only a few minutes ago?
But it seemed it was. He dropped his free hand across her shoulders and half-turned to her. She sat rigidly, staring forward, after her first startled glance his way. She knew she had flushed, which he could not see; nor could he guess at the staccato beating of her heart. He mustn’t know she had wanted this, half willed it, and now was afraid ...
He said, ‘And so—granted a young moon and a tide as idle as this, should they be denied their rights, would you say?’ and without giving her a chance to reply, turned her full towards him, brought his other hand to draw her closer and kissed her with assured purpose in the pressure of his mouth upon hers.
Her own lips remained firm and cool at first, then fluttered in a desire she wanted to deny and could not. A kiss that from him was mere flirtation, but she wanted it to go on and on. She longed to cling, to yield, and she must not. Without the feeling which he did not pretend to have for her, the whole thing was spurious, bogus, and when, slowly, he held her off from him and had kissed each cheek in turn very lightly, she turned her head aside.
Both hands once more on the wheel, he righted the uncontrolled circling of the launch, but did not switch the engine on. Except for the lapping of the water the silence was intense. Then Dinah said in a small choked voice, ‘You make the most of your opportunities, don’t you?’
‘Those which offer only once a lunar month—yes, why not?’ he retorted.
‘Whether or not you expect any response?’
‘But there has to be a response!' His tone implied she had asked a foolish question. ‘Either one’s overtures are accepted or rejected— simple. If they’re accepted, there’s the chance of going on from there.
If they are rejected ---------- ’
‘Then, I suppose, you can promise yourself that there will be another new moon next month?’
‘Exactly. Always supposing there’s a pretty girl handy, and that the tide isn’t racing.’ He laughed suddenly. ‘Tch—you are very English, aren’t you, Dinah Fleming? Haven’t you ever heard of us Italians that we are romantically venturesome to our fingertips; that it’s a matter of male honour with us to chance our arm? No offence meant; only a bit of homage at which you shou ld be flattered.’
‘Even when--------- ’ Dinah’s need at the moment was
to guard herself from herself as much as from him—‘Even when,’ she repeated, ‘in my case, I thought you understood—you’ve always assumed so —that I don’t happen to be just any handy, foot loose girl who might or might not play along with you in your moon-and-tide fairytale; that, on the contrary, I'm more or less committed elsewhere?’
As soon as the words were out, she was appalled. What had she told him for stupid pride’s sake? The very thing s he had earlier been at pains to deny; the thing which wasn’t true—that Trevor was as important to her as Cesare had taunted! So what was he going to believe now—that she was as good as engaged to Trevor, or that she wasn't? She was to know when he drew himself together and bent to turn the engine switch. His tone sober, distant, he said,
�
��That I didn't understand.’
She couldn’t recant now. She had to carry it through. ‘After you met Trevor Land you claimed to think it,’ she reminded him. ‘And would you have behaved any differently, if you had?’
‘I might have been tempted, but let’s hope I could have told the moon and the tide, “Get thee behind me,” as one is supposed to abjure the devil!’ He hunched his shoulders and dropped them in the course of a long sigh. Adding his favourite Italian expletive to his perfect colloquial English, he murmured, ‘Santo cielo, what a to-do about a mere kiss with obviously no future to it!’
If he weren’t to think her the complete prude, she had to go along with that. ‘You’re right—I’m making a fuss about nothing,’ she agreed, dismissing as lightly as he a moment which for her had been sweet . . . too sweet.
His next remark after a silence was entirely matter-of-fact. ‘When exactly do Jason and Lesley go back to England?’ he asked.
She told him the day and the date.
‘And how are they travelling?’
‘The same way as we came—by road.’
‘Indeed, they are not!’
‘What do you mean? They have to get the car back home.’
‘Well, they aren’t undertaking that journey alone. I can’t think how you can have considered it.’
Though she had had misgivings herself, Dinah was surprised by his vehemence. ‘But they have to go, and I can't go with them,’ she said.
‘But you brought them out here, knowing you couldn’t see them
safely back. It’s a problem y ou should have faced before you set
out,’ he reproved.
She felt that to be unjust. ‘And so I did. But they wouldn't. They
said they’d have learned all the snags on the outward journey, and
they would be all right.’ ‘And you listened to them! ’ he scoffed.
‘However, they are now going to hear from me, if not from you, that
the scheme is not on.’
‘If you say so, of course I’ll tell them you forbid it. Though how ----------- ’
‘They will have to fly or go by train,’ he ruled crisply.
‘And abandon the car? It would break Jason’s heart. Besides, they
can’t afford to fly. The train would be pretty expensive too.’
‘The cost needn’t worry them.’
‘You mean, you would pay? I’m afraid they would hate that, and they’re going to be terribly disappointed at not being allowed to drive back the way we came.’
He glanced down at her briefly. ‘And you are go ing to be at the receiving end of their disappointment?’ he queried.
She nodded. ‘I probably shall be, until they understand that it’s your concern for them that has made you forbid it. They’re not monsters. They’ll see the reason in that.’
‘They’d better.’ He paused. Then he conceded,
‘Well, if they are so set on the idea, perhaps one can compromise.’ ‘Compromise? How?’
‘Hunt up a convoy for them. Responsible people, going north by car the same way, who would play escort to their car. It could be possible to find some. I’ll make inquiries around.’
‘I could ask at Plenair. They might know of someone,’ Dinah offered eagerly.
‘Yes. Or........Anyway, leave it to me.’
They had reached the Palazzo, where now all was quiet; even the evidence of the barbecue on the side quay had been tidied away. Cesare handed Dinah out of the launch and they went in together. There was a message for him on the telephone pad and while he read it Dinah looked in at the salotto and the dining-room, where almost all the ravages of the party had also been cleared away. There was no sign nor sound of the twins, from which she concluded they had gone to bed, and after saying goodnight to Cesare, and thanking him for the trip, she went too.
She was pleased with the twins. If they had been less responsible than they were, the aftermath of the abandon of that party could have been a shambles. But she had her own thoughts of the night to analyse, and she was less than pleased to find both of them in pyjamas sitting cross-legged on her bed, awaiting her.
‘Well, there you are!’ stated Jason obviously, and Lesley said, ‘We got rid of the folks not too long after Yvette and Jules sang that you had gone out with Cesare, and since th en we’ve slaved to put the place in order again.’
‘Good for you. I noticed. Was the party a success?’ asked Dinah. ‘Super!’
‘Everyone said so—the best they had been to this summer.’
4We didn’t burn so much as a sausage on the barbecue.’
‘And none of the n eighbours complained. They even turned out to watch. Where did Cesare take you?’
‘Out on the lagoon, right round the islands and back. There’s a new moon. I hope you saw it while you were outside at the barbecue!’
‘For luck, you mean? Who needs mere luck?’ Jason scoffed.
Lesley said more soberly, ‘We could on our journey home, without Dinah along.’
‘Yes, well -------- ’ Dinah had just decided to keep her
dampening piece of news until the morning when Lesley broke in, ‘Oh, and that princess of Cesare’s rang up for hi m, and was she mad when she heard he had gone out with you? Oh, boy! ’
‘How do you know? Did you answer the phone, then?’ asked Dinah.
‘Jason did, but she was gabbling Italian at such a rate that we had to get Gio Conti to listen and translate for us. and he got it all. Seems she understood Cesare had been playing bridge at the Inter-Nation Club, but she had expected he would be home by then, and when we prompted Gio to tell her he’d been back, she wanted to know why he should have gone out again with you. Which of course we couldn’t tell her—just that he had, that was all.’
‘Oh.......’ Dinah said blankly. ‘I suppose you left a
message for Cesare to say she’d called?’
‘Yes. By the telephone. He couldn’t have missed it.’
Dinah nodded. ‘I think I saw him reading it. But your friend Gio must have been mistaken that she minded his having taken me out.’
‘Not so. Pretty green-eyed about it, she sounded to me,’ Jason remarked.
Lesley regarded him, frowning. ‘Do we know what colour her eyes are? And how could anyone sound green-eyed?’ At which Jason abandoned his cross- legged pose to roll over on his stomach and beat at Dinah’s pillow with both fists. ‘For pity’s sake,’ he moaned, ‘who, I ask myself, gave me such a moron for a sister, and made her my twin soul at that? Ever heard of green-eyed jealousy, woodentop—no?’ Light appeared to dawn upon Lesley. ‘Oh, you mean her Highness was jealous of Dinah with Cesare? M’m, could be............’
‘It could not,’ Dinah cut in crisply. ‘The Princess must have been annoyed with Cesare about something else. And now, if you don’t mind. I’d soon like the use of my bed, and it wouldn’t be such a bad idea if you went back to your own.’
At that they uncoiled themselves, stretched elaborately and went. But Lesley paused to look back round the door. ‘What did you and Cesare talk about? Did you fight?’ she asked curiously.
‘No.’
‘What, then?’
‘I’ll tell you tomorrow,’ promised Dinah, depressed for them at the thought, doubting as she did whether either Cesare or the resources of Plenair could produce the necessary escort for them on the day they had to travel. And she knew Cesare would be adamant against their going alone. Odd, she thought, how airily he had sloughed off the lesser responsibilities for them, and yet assumed the deeper care for them which made him deny them the risks of this trip.
Left alone, she faced what she had learned of herself during the evening. She knew now why she thought less about Trevor than she did about Cesare; why she looked forward more to even brief encounters with Cesare than she ever did to arranged meetings with Trevor, it was because Trevor had increasingly turned into a cardboard figure, a familiar shape, with familiar mannerisms and almost wholly predictable reac
tions. Whereas Cesare was volatile as quicksilver, totally unexpected... exciting. Even in argument with him she felt her mind was at full stretch, and when he had kissed her, every nerve had wakened and thrilled to his magnetism. To even her everyday contacts with him there was a kind of fearful joy, not unlike the tingling anticipation of an exam or any ordeal at which she might fail or succeed. He stimulated her mind, and her body was aware, alight. And that was dangerous. Caring nothing for her, he must not guess how important he had become to her. Pride alone must see to that. She was not going to join the ranks of the ‘pretty girls' he had kissed in experiment, some of whom, no doubt, knew and accepted that they stood nowhere with him. But there would have been others who had hoped and dreamed, and she was in peril of that, if she didn’t stand back now from the brink of loving him. And given the will, there was still time for that—wasn’t there?
As was to be expected, Jason and Lesley were much aggrieved by the news of Cesare’s veto on their journey across Europe alone, and were only appeased by his telling them they were free to go ahead with their preparations for leaving as if he hadn’t called the ban.
This they did by going round to say goodbye to all the places where they had most enjoyed themselves, by amassing a collection of absurd toys and mementoes from their friends and by offering to pay themselves for a transatlantic call to their Aunt Ursula to say, ‘Thank you for having us—even if you weren’t here. And may we come again next year?'
The. call was made, Cesare soothing their scruples against his paying for it by saying he would combine it with a talk of his own to his mother, and that the bill would go on his account anyway. They stood over him while he got the connection and talked, then, with frequent passing of the receiver back and forth between them, they put over their own messages and finally beckoned to Dinah—‘She wants to speak to you.’
Ursula Vidal’s voice was pleasantly English, touched with Italian inflections. She said, ‘So you are Dinah who saw my sister Heather’s
youngsters safely to Venice? I have to thank you so much.’
‘It was nothing,’ said Dinah. ‘I had to come over myself to a job, and we enjoyed a hilarious journey.’ ‘Yes, so the children said when they wrote—about your coming to work in the city. So that means