by Sara Wood
She hurled herself into the sitting room, only to skid to a halt. ‘Luc!’ she cried in surprise, letting the lamp drop to a chair.
He seemed to be rooted to the ground, staring helplessly at the hysterically sobbing Gemma across the dining table. Astonishingly, they were both dressed, and when Ellen checked the clock on the wall her eyes widened. It was four-thirty.
‘Whatever is the matter?’ she asked in amazement.
Ashen-faced, Luc spoke, his voice so low that she could hardly hear. ‘She doesn’t want to go.’
‘Go?’ she repeated stupidly.
‘Home.’
Baffled, Ellen tried to make sense of this. Why should Gemma suddenly take it into her head to bother about going home, when there were several days to go yet?
‘Why not?’ she asked, thoroughly muddled now.
‘I don’t know!’ Luc roared in desperation as his daughter’s sobs grew louder. ‘Perhaps I woke her too suddenly!’
Ellen recognised that hopelessness and despair which had made him shout and she excused his outburst. Things were bad. If Luc couldn’t calm his daughter, no one could. Ellen racked her brains for an explanation of Gemma’s bizarre behaviour. There must be an answer somewhere.
Judging by the tone in his voice, Luc was trying to persuade Gemma to be calm and listen to him. Ellen had identified those particular words—and the fact that Luc was talking about the plane.
‘Is it the plane journey she’s scared of?’ Ellen offered helpfully.
Luc flung her a scalding look, as if she’d said something stupid. She felt suddenly afraid. Something was very wrong. Steadying her beating heart with the pressure of her hand, she studied Gemma carefully while the little girl sobbed and shook her head at everything her father said, edging away like a terrified animal whenever he attempted to get near her.
Ellen’s heart chilled. This was rank terror. The fear stared out from Gemma’s huge, wet-lashed eyes. It trembled in her small rosebud mouth. It shook her scrunched up little body unmercifully and Ellen felt like crying herself, a hot, prickling emotion balling in her throat. She swallowed hard.
‘Gemma!’ she cried loudly, cutting through Luc’s pleadings. ‘We have five more days. You go home on Thursday. A casa giovedi—’
Miserably the little girl pointed to the door, her lower lip jutting in angry accusation. Mystified, Ellen swung around and her body turned to ice. It took a moment for her brain to catch up.
Luggage. By the door. But they couldn’t be going. Luc and she were crazy about each other. She and Gemma were making friends.
A tear welled up in Ellen’s eye and splashed onto her hand. It was a mistake. Someone had been playing a trick and unsettled Gemma. She tried to speak. Nothing came out but a strangled, choking sound.
As if worked by jerking strings, she swivelled around, swaying precariously. Dimly she heard Luc pleading, promising that he’d care for Gemma and he would protect her from whatever frightened her. Slowly this seemed to placate Gemma, and she hesitantly came towards Luc while he shook with tension.
Then the little girl ran the last few feet into his outstretched arms and he buried his head in her neck, his groan of heartfelt relief bringing emotional tears to Ellen’s own eyes.
Luc couldn’t believe what had happened. He’d imagined that Gemma had wanted to be with him wherever he went. It had never occurred to him that she wouldn’t want to go home! Yet that had been the plan from the start. Three days in England, then back to Capri. What on earth was going on in that little head? He was appalled that he’d unwittingly upset her, when his whole intention had been to fall in with her wishes.
Holding the now relaxed child in his arms, he mentally unleashed new curses on Ellen for making his daughter so unpredictable in her emotions. Donatello had been sure that she disliked Ellen, and he had always valued his loyal friend’s perceptive judgements. From now on he and Gemma would be together. His vow to make her feel secure had been brutally reinforced by her confused behaviour.
When he lifted his face and looked directly at her, Ellen ached at the change in him. The lines seemed deeply etched around his mouth, which had become a hard, grim line, and his entire expression was terrifyingly harsh and utterly implacable.
Their eyes met. His were dead. Hers were bleached with shock. For in that terrible split second she knew that there had been no mistake. They were leaving without saying goodbye.
Numbly she gazed back at him with huge, horror-filled eyes, as the implications of this hit her like a punch in the stomach and she let out an involuntary gasp of despair.
Yet somehow, despite her collapsed lungs, she snatched a breath and choked out the question which was drawing the life from her.
‘You…you’re going…today?’
‘Now.’
‘Oh, God,’ she mumbled faintly, and crumpled into a pitiful heap on the floor.
‘The suite’s been paid for till midday. Leave before then.’
She tried to make sense of it all but her confused mind refused to focus on anything. Luc’s white and tormented face swam into her vision as she fumbled for understanding.
‘You said… I had a week!’ she protested plaintively.
‘I lied.’
Ellen recoiled. A part of her was refusing to believe what was happening. Why, why? hammered her thoughts, pounding away relentlessly.
Suddenly she found her voice. It was rusty, but serviceable. ‘But…’ she grated, and, paralysed with shock, she whispered ‘Why?’ in a tiny, desperate squeak.
Luc dragged in a harsh breath. ‘Because I don’t want Gemma hurt any more. Because she becomes a worse psychological mess every time she visits you. I’m convinced you have a bad effect on her stability—’
‘She wanted me this time!’ Ellen defended.
‘Don’t flatter yourself about that. It was the better of two evils. She had a choice: to be at home without me, or to be here with you. She chose the latter, knowing that at least I’d be there for her in the evenings. This time I was prepared to let her have what she wanted. I knew I could keep a watch over what you did and how she was treated. But I’m not sending her out to you again. You rouse too many negative emotions in her and bring nothing but pain. It’s over, Ellen. My child is too precious for you to play with or ignore as and when you please.’
His face showed no compassion as she started to digest what he was saying, his cold, almost robotic manner even worse than his earlier anger. He held the now sleeping Gemma closer, as if to keep her from evil, and Ellen trembled to see how much he hated her. She wanted to rail and rave and beat his chest with her fists. But that wouldn’t get her anywhere at all.
‘I could have made her happy this week!’ she said in a low, pained voice as she struggled to keep her head. ‘She might have become more settled once we’d—’
‘Aren’t you forgetting something?’ he sneered. ‘You wanted to dump her until you saw an opportunity to live the comfortable life again.’ His face contorted. ‘I know what you planned. You decided to use her as a stepping stone to me—and the life-style I could provide you with—’
‘That’s an absolute lie!’ she gasped, wincing with horror.
‘Is it? I wasn’t the only one to come to that conclusion,’ Luc said, scorn curling the high arch of his mouth. ‘Donatello had your measure, too. He told me what you were doing, and warned me not to trust you.’
‘You’re both wrong!’ she said heatedly. ‘I was thrilled to be looking after Gemma—’
‘You hide your feelings well, then,’ he drawled.
She went quiet. Of course. She hadn’t let him know how strongly she felt. Her caution was condemning her. Her shoulders collapsed in defeat. He wasn’t going to listen. His mind was made up.
‘You used Gemma for your own purposes,’ Luc said coldly. ‘That’s unforgivable. She needs security and continuity and I’d be failing as a father if I didn’t give her that. You must understand that, Ellen! This is for Gemma’s health! I have a right to
put her first. This is the last time you’ll see her.’
‘Luc!’ she muttered miserably, stunned by his icy composure. ‘She’s my baby! My little girl. You can’t…’ Something twisted his features. She choked on her tears, found strength flowing into her legs and jumped up. ‘This isn’t legal—!’
‘It soon will be,’ he bit, his whole body shaking with what she imagined must be suppressed anger. ‘Once I report on your behaviour—’
‘The art class?’ Her eyes flared with pure rage. ‘That’s not fair, Luc!’
‘Understand this,’ he snapped. ‘I’ll do anything to protect my child and use any means I have to.’
‘I’ll fight you every inch of the way!’ she declared in warning.
But her heart was cold. He had money and clever lawyers on his side. She was the absent parent and lived in another country. She had walked out on them when her child was helpless and in need. She was beaten, and knew it.
‘Don’t make it worse for yourself,’ he said gruffly. ‘Accept the situation and get on with your life.’
What life, without him, without her baby? she wondered, gripping her stomach to stop the awful, hollowing pains from making her cry out. Her hand raked shakily through her hair. Bitterness welled in her throat. Terrified of what he might say, but driven to ask, she made her dry, paralysed mouth work, doggedly licking her lips and chewing them into mobility.
‘And…how do you explain what happened between us?’ she ventured.
There was a long and terrible silence while he stared at her without moving a muscle of his starkly pinched face.
‘I’m not stupid, Ellen. I know that I was just the ticket to a Cartier watch of your own, beautiful designer clothes and the life-style you’d stupidly abandoned. You even admitted it.’
‘Never!’ she breathed, aghast.
‘‘‘Just be nice!’’’ he mocked in a silly, fawning voice. ‘‘‘I’ll do the rest! I know we’ll learn to love one another…my life would be enriched!’’ You bet it would be! See, Ellen, the words were engraved on my heart because I knew that I’d be throwing them back at you sometime!’
‘I—I was talking about Gemma!’ she yelled in frustration.
‘Like hell!’
‘Luc, you’ve totally misunderstood everything I’ve said and done!’ she cried, appalled by his obstinacy. He’d twisted everything that had happened. It was a nightmare. Her chin lifted. ‘You can’t deny one thing. We made love like there was no tomorrow—’
His eyebrow soared in contempt. ‘We had sex,’ he said succinctly. ‘And there was to be no tomorrow as far as I was concerned.’
‘No, Luc,’ she flung, incapable of believing that her instincts could be so wrong. ‘It was more than that and you damn well know it!’
‘More? Yes, it was more!’ he seethed through his teeth. ‘It was my final revenge, my chosen way to get you right out of my system. And it was a lucky bonus that I enjoyed every moment of it!’
The room whirled, the sudden, violent passion of his words exploding their brutal message in her brain with terrible clarity. She reached out blindly for a chair and encountered his arm. He drew back as if she’d stabbed him and she kept going, half falling, and half collapsing onto the sofa, where she screwed herself into a tight ball of misery.
‘I don’t believe it! You planned it all…you actually used me!’ she cried, almost choking on the words.
‘Yes,’ he retorted coldly. ‘As you once used me till I no longer amused you. And I am now leaving you as you left me. That’s my kind of street justice, Ellen. But remember that it was yours first.’
Her head snapped back, her neck hardly able to bear its weight any longer, and she emitted a long, keening moan. ‘But I am totally innocent!’ she whispered.
‘The words ‘‘snow’’ and ‘‘hell’’ come to mind again,’ he said with contempt.
And she knew it was all over because he was turning away and walking out with Gemma, just as he’d promised, and she was too numb to do anything more than sit there and let the tears blind her to their final departure.
The slam of the door cracked through her like a pistol shot. The two people she loved most in the world had gone. A few hours ago she’d been looking forwards to family life with them. And Luc had encouraged her in those beliefs so that she would suffer more keenly.
Oh, God, he was a swine! A vicious, heartless, calculating rat! Bristling with fury, she leapt to her feet, found the clothes she’d arrived in and doggedly, muttering and cursing, dragged them on her trembling body. Everything else she left. There would be no memories of this ghastly episode in her life.
And yet, helpless to stop herself, she had to have one last glimpse of Luc and Gemma. Leaning precariously out of the window, she could see the Bentley parked outside, its coachwork gleaming in the lamps fixed on the hotel’s Georgian pillars. Luc’s PA was loading bags into the boot and Gemma was running out alone…
Ellen drew in a gasp of breath, her eyes darkening with concern. Gemma had begun to pummel Donatello with her small fists! Luc suddenly emerged from the hotel, pushing his wallet into his jacket pocket and sweeping his hysterical daughter up.
Ellen watched them drive away and then drew back, pale with shock. The child was seriously disturbed. Her behaviour was so contrary that it didn’t make sense. Unless…
She stifled her cry with her fist, refusing to think the unthinkable. Donatello loved Gemma. He couldn’t be the one who…
‘Oh, God!’ she mumbled helplessly.
She had to do something. She couldn’t ever rest until she knew what was frightening her daughter. She had to think. Dear heaven, her brain was in a mess! She strode up and down, trying to concentrate, but it was useless. Her mind just whirled and seethed with fractured thoughts and images and she gave up the struggle.
Her hands trembling with shock, she put the cash Luc had given to her in a clearly addressed envelope and handed it to the porter. Without knowing what she was doing, she began to walk. Gradually her steps quickened and suddenly she was running, oblivious of the darkness and the potential dangers lurking in the pre-dawn streets of London, running as if in some way she could escape her appalling fears for Gemma’s safety.
Hampered by her shoes, she removed them and clutched them to her. Now her loping stride devoured the ground easily. The early-morning air cooled her burning face. On and on she ran, like a terrified animal, without thought of time or direction, ridding her body of anger and frustration and her injured sense of justice until her lungs finally gave out on her. All passion spent, all fury exhausted, she collapsed in a panting, gasping heap on a seat.
As she fought for breath, she realised she’d run all the way to St James’s Park. Amazed at her stamina, she suddenly felt a strange calmness steal over her. And with that tranquillity came a crystal clarity of mind.
She had the power to do anything she wanted. Anything. To fight Luc, to assert her rights, to help Gemma. He wouldn’t get the better of her. She would not be his victim again.
And that meant she had to accept that Luc had never loved her. Ruthlessly she dashed away a tear which had seeped from the corner of her eye. There could be no time for self-pity when Gemma needed her so badly. Ellen bit her lip, controlling her own selfish emotions, knowing that her mourning for Luc would have to wait. This time she must not fail her daughter.
Gemma was terribly afraid of something—or someone—and Luc seemed incapable of seeing that. The solution was obvious. She would have to go to Capri.
With extraordinary composure, she stood up and walked all the way back to her flat, planning every step of her journey to Italy.
In the space of two days, she had taken temporary leave from her job, bought a cheap ticket to Naples with her meagre savings and was boarding the plane.
Making the arrangements had stopped her thinking about Luc’s betrayal. Her only priority was to learn the truth about Gemma’s strange behaviour and to deal with it.
A taxi driver with a de
ath wish—and an ability, she thought angrily, to extract enough lire from her to have bought the taxi outright—dropped her outside the ferry terminal. Still, the kamikaze drive through the notorious Naples traffic jams seemed to have fired her up and crushed her nerves about the task ahead. Despite the vastness of the docks and the lack of signs, she managed to find her way to the departure point for the Capri jet boat. The last stage of her journey was about to begin.
The sun warmed her back while she waited for the passengers on the huge, high-speed launch to disembark. In a few moments she was slipping onto the ultra-smart boat with a crowd of noisy Italians, while the politely queuing American and European tourists looked on in alarm at such disorderly behaviour. She smiled wryly. When in Rome…
The beautiful boat skimmed along silently. People chatted excitedly, mobile phones rang and a man sang for sheer joy in a heartbreakingly liquid tenor voice. She relaxed, envying the warm affection displayed by the Italians, their capacity for happiness, for passion.
Perhaps, she mused, Luc had been out of place in England. Here the setting was so dramatic that a more extravagant, emotional response to life seemed appropriate.
And she longed to release her own emotions instead of keeping them locked within her chest. Longed to love uninhibitedly. To give her heart and to be loved in return. She sighed. It was too much to wish for. She would have to be content with knowing that Gemma’s troubles were over.
In the summer haze, the vast Bay of Naples, the perfect cone of Vesuvius and the beautiful Amalfi coast grew a soft, misty blue. After just forty minutes, Ellen saw the small, luxuriantly green island of Capri begin to rise higher and higher from the delphinium-blue sea.
Her pulses raced. Eagerly she scanned the precipitous limestone cliffs and the slightly lower area of land in between. Flat-roofed eighteenth-century buildings huddled together on the top of this central hill. At its foot lay a harbour packed with boats, its waterfront a jumble of colourful houses sporting balconies and roof gardens.
It was incredibly beautiful. And she fell instantly in love with it.