Beyond The Island

by Mackenzie, Brenda

  ‘I’ll soon have us ashore,’ Renzo declared, and holding the oar, he began to paddle. ‘We’ll just take a quick look around the place,’ he said.

  Arrived on a tiny inlet under a cliff face, Joanne struggled after him up over the slippery rocks and onto a level area of grass beside a high wall.

  ‘Worth the effort, don’t you think?’

  ‘It’s amazing!’ Joanne gathered her breath and gazed upwards. She saw the massive construction of Aragonese castle towering above them, dark and oppressive and did wonder how they could gain entrance. ‘Wow! It’s impressive!’

  ‘This fortress would have been heavily guarded, but all that hinders our progress now are these thistles. Come on, Joanne.’

  She shielded her eyes from the sun and considered how this castle must have intimidated any enemy with conquering in mind. All was silent, the fortress was deserted, the Islet uninhabited. Despite the intense heat of the day, Joanne shivered when Renzo loomed above her, blocking out the sun, and a sense of menace slid over her.

  ‘Odd place isn’t it; conceals horrible deeds. Let’s go and explore, shall we?’

  Heart beating fast, Joanne followed the stony track that led steeply uphill between high stone walls where no sunlight penetrated. As they climbed, Joanne was fascinated by Renzo’s knowledge of its ancient history and with the surprise of finding him an interesting companion, she felt her anxieties fading.

  ‘This is all that remains of the beautiful Cathedral,’ Renzo explained. ‘it was destroyed by the British way back in 1804.’

  ‘We have a lot to answer for.’ Joanne shook her head, thinking of all the fine buildings in Italy that are now merely ruins.

  ‘All nations have blood on their hands.’ Renzo declared as they moved away. ‘See that group of buildings over there? That was once a prison where men were incarcerated for political incorrectness and they never saw the light of day again. We’ll take a look.’

  They entered a dark windowless room smelling of dank rotten vegetation, for weeds sprouted from stone crevices. She shivered. It was more than a look that Renzo gave this horrible small prison, more like a survey. He strode from wall to wall as if measuring the space. Her mind clouded as a nightmarish thought flew in – as if he had in mind to store something here? Her heart missed a beat as he spoke.

  ‘There’s more to see – the remains of an early convent.’ Renzo stooped through the low entrance, turned and waited for her as she fell out into the fresh air while he remained gazing at the prison ruins.

  ‘Nothing very cheerful about that place.’ Joanne managed. She flinched and goose pimples covered her arms. ‘It’s horribly gloomy here too!’ They’d entered the ruins of the convent and when her sight slowly adjusted she asked, ‘Why are low stone benches set in a circle against the walls, I wonder?’ She pointed to what looked like ring seats placed to view some spectacle.

  Renzo hesitated. ‘Now they do have a morbid history,’ he murmured. ‘This was the Convent cemetery. When the Sisters died, their bodies were propped up on those seats and left to putrefy in front of the living members...perhaps to remind them of human frailty.’

  ‘How morbid!’ Joanne’s skin began to crawl. ‘That’s ghastly!’

  ‘Macabre, isn’t it? Come on, we’ll go and explore something more uplifting.’

  Joanne tripped on the worn stone in her haste to get outside, but Renzo failed to notice while he guided her into one of the lanes. It twisted uphill amongst more crumbling ruins and Joanne was in two minds to turn back. About to declare she’d seen enough, she realised she’d gone ahead in her need to escape those awful sights in the Convent. Their footsteps fell silently in canvas shoes and with a sudden awareness that Renzo was not following, Joanne stopped.

  Only the sound of the crashing waves against the rocks reached her, save for her own loud heart beats. Sunlight failed to penetrate these dark passageways. Hemmed in by mouldy walls, she stared about. Which way should she go? She was disorientated and the lanes branched out in all directions. It was the moment she glanced back that her heart began to thump like a drum. A black shadow glided towards her along the wall. Terror propelled her reckless flight as she slipped and stumbled over uneven, moss covered stones, desperate to escape it.

  Renzo’s voice reached her, a hollow sound which rebounded off the lichen drenched walls.

  ‘Stop, Joanne. I’m right here!’

  Stunned, she halted, her heart jammed in her stomach.

  ‘Sorry Joanne, were you scared?’ His voice boomed in the narrow space. ‘I stopped back there to read a stone plaque on the wall.’

  He’d reached her side and she felt an arm rest heavily on her shoulder.

  ‘This place would spook anyone. Let’s get you into the open.’

  Her heart still beat with slow thuds as he guided her back the right way and she tried to believe it was only Renzo’s shadow sliding along the wall. Once out in the fresh air with the warmth of the sun on her back she took deep breaths and a surge of relief came now out in the open.

  ‘Do you feel better now?’ Renzo gazed at her with concern. ‘I guess anyone would be spooked if they were lost in there.’

  Joanne let out her breath. ‘I’m fine, just imagination - got caught up in those terrors of the past,’ she said.

  Renzo nodded. ‘So, how do you feel about spending some time on Ischia as a sailing instructor?’ His question took her off guard and she stared at him blankly, her mind still in a whirl. Then shaking her head, she replied. ‘It sounds a great idea provided it wouldn’t be all year – I still have my life in Rome.’ She pulled on her floppy sunhat. Why ask her right now? Surely he must know she was still a feeling jumpy?

  ‘Of course, that would not be a problem, Joanne. They would be short term contracts.’ Then with a change of subject, ‘How about your folks back home in England? Are they happy to have you far away?’

  He’d hinted at this before but now he’d asked her directly. It was a natural question, she realized. If I’m to be employed he’d need more credentials. She felt his intense gaze and turned away so the brim of her hat hid her expression.

  ‘I’ve no close family,’ she managed. ‘Both parents are dead. I’m their only child. That’s one of the reasons I travel and live elsewhere. Italy is one of my favourite places.’

  ‘Mmm, I see. No close family – that is very sad for you, Joanne.’

  Had he forgotten he’d already learned this when they met at that business function?

  Renzo leaned over and touched her arm with a gesture of concern. ‘Maybe not family, but someone close who will want to share knowledge of your plans?’

  He really was persistent. Joanne flushed. ‘Oh, I keep in touch with close friends,’ she said airily. His questions were beginning to irritate and she felt he might make a tiresome boss. For the moment, she had nothing to lose and was content to let him think she would consider his offer.

  ‘Excuse me a moment please.’ He was on his feet in one supple movement. ‘I have to make a phone call.’

  It was a relief to see him stroll off. She breathed deeply, telling herself there was no harm intended by Renzo’s keen questions. Italians were known to be close with their families. It was her problem if she felt exposed.

  Her fright returned of being trapped in those narrow cobbled lanes and the images dredged up from the awesome atmosphere in the ruined convent. A sudden recollection back in Rome of when Renzo had spoken on his phone to Fabio returned. ‘It will be all right this time...’ he’d stated angrily. What had that been about? Why had it come into her mind at this moment? There was no time to dwell on it as Renzo returned. To Joanne, his smile looked as if it were spray painted on; wide and fixed while his eyes remained hooded.

  ‘Time to leave,’ he stated abruptly.

  They reversed the procedure of their arrival and Renzo paddled them back to the yacht. A twist of fear refused to budge. Why had Renzo remained silent just now along that lane? Was that a real shadow she’d seen creeping
up or just her vivid imagination sparked by those gloomy ruins? Nevertheless, that incident continued to stir up doubts about his motives.

  Chapter 13

  Later, lying in bed in her hotel room Joanne went over the sequence of events that day. Suddenly she jerked upright as her brain fastened on something she’d once read. It related to the psychology of the human mind. So far as she could remember, it proposed that people under interrogation would be subjected to horrendous personal fear, before their dread was removed. The victim’s relief left them susceptible to talking and giving away their secrets. Could this be what Renzo subconsciously applied to people he wanted to control?

  She was on alert, “once armed, once prepared” was just the kind of maxim that Fabio would approve.

  ***

  The following morning Joanne was drinking her coffee in the breakfast room and forced a smile when Renzo once again turned up at the hotel. ‘Thank you for yesterday’s sail Renzo. How do you think I’m doing?’

  ‘You’re getting quite proficient, Joanne. Let’s see, how many days do we have now? Ah, just three.’ He remained standing and searched her face. ‘Well, I think provided you are prepared to study navigation you’ll be able to gain your Masters Certificate. And then you might consider using your skills in some other direction.’

  He eyes narrowed speculatively as he awaited her response.

  What did that mean? Was it an oblique reference to employment as an instructor at his proposed Sailing School? He’d still made no mention connected with setting one up. Thinking quickly she said, ‘You’ve given me excellent instruction, thank you and yes, I’m keen to try for a sailing qualification.’ She watched as he helped himself to coffee, disconcerted when he took a seat opposite and remarked,

  ‘Please don’t feel tied to me, Joanne. Make the most of your short time here, won’t you? There’s always work to keep me busy. Just don’t run away with the idea that I do not enjoy your company, eh?’

  This was a surprise turnabout! Joanne couldn’t prevent her mouth opening in surprise. He was usually demanding when sailing was concerned. ‘That’s a kind thought, Renzo.’ He seemed so accommodating that she added, ‘If you don’t mind, there is something I’d love to do.’ Launching into it lest he changed his mind, ‘I’d really like to catch up with Angelina and the children before the end of my holiday.’

  Renzo merely nodded in agreement. ‘I’m sure Angelina will be happy about that. Shall I order you a taxi?’

  ‘No, I’ll take the bus, thank you,’ she said firmly. It was one thing to give orders on his yacht but a different matter on dry land.

  ‘If that’s your wish...’ Renzo sighed as if resigned to this wilful behaviour. ‘I’m sure Angelina will give you a lift back afterwards.’

  Joanne held her breath and puzzled about Renzo’s change of heart. The last time she’d mentioned visiting Angelina, Renzo claimed one of the children had measles. She dismissed the thought, having more to puzzle over than to bother about that. To placate him she added, ‘If you’re sure I won’t upset your plans, I’ll give Angelina a ring after breakfast. And,’ she gave him a bright smile, ‘please don’t think I don’t enjoy being in your company or sailing with you.’

  Renzo smiled but his eyes had all the warmth of a cobra sizing up a mouse.

  Relieved when he left, Joanne returned to her room. What a strange conversation that had been. She fixed her mind on seeing the children and giving them the presents bought with Fabio’s help. Angelina was delighted when she phoned.

  ‘It seems ages since we’ve seen you here,’ Angelina exclaimed. ‘Oh, just a moment – I remember Fabio is dropping in sometime this morning to do a few jobs. Why don’t I call him and suggest he picks you up? The bus takes forever and we’d have longer together.’

  Joanne’s pulse had started to throb at the sound of Fabio’s name.

  ‘Joanne? Are you still there?’

  ‘Yes, sorry – that would be good, thanks Angelina. But I don’t want him to feel obliged...’

  ‘Oh, don’t be silly! Fabio will enjoy seeing you.’

  It may have been an expression of courtesy but it served to increase her happiness. ‘That would be good – will you please tell Fabio I’ll be waiting near the hotel at the same place he dropped me the other day?’

  ‘I’ll give him the message. Ciao, Joanne.’

  Joanne stood before the mirror in her room but hardly noticed her reflection as she debated whether to use the opportunity put certain questions to Fabio about his cousin. Days were slipping by, all too soon she’d be taking the return ferry and on her way back to Rome and somehow knew Renzo would not leave her alone there. She made a mental note of all her queries:

  1. Renzo’s boast about his new Mercedes car, which he kept in the basement garage in one of his premises in Naples. ‘Thieves would have a job stealing it,’ he’d remarked. ‘They’d need the keys for the complicated alarm system!’

  2. Renzo’s subversive visit to the priest in the confession box at Fontana when he said he was going to Naples, and his meeting she’d spotted with the young woman whom he referred to later as his lawyer.

  3. The man with a foreign accent in the bar at the hotel who’d demanded to speak to Signor Balzarin.

  4. That clandestine meeting Renzo had with another man (Mafia?) at night by the cliff beyond the hotel gardens.

  5. Renzo’s duplicity. Pretence to work on the yacht but she’d seen him in the town.

  Joanne wondered if the answer to one puzzle might solve the rest but she had no intention of placing Fabio in an awkward position. Her lips pursed while she cogitated; could she really question Fabio? Was it worth the risk of spoiling her close friendship with him?

  ***

  Joanne strolled a short distance away from the hotel and waited for Fabio to arrive. Ridiculous to wear this dress, she told herself; it was hardly suitable for playing with the children. Almost without realizing she’d selected the same white cotton sheath worn that first day on her arrival when Fabio had met her off the ferry. She tossed back another orange silk scarf which fluttered around her face. Orange and white looked good with her dark bobbed hair.

  The sky was clear of clouds but she felt a cool wind spring up. Did that herald a change in the weather? A familiar sound grew louder as Fabio’s small green Morgan shot around the corner and came to a stop.

  ‘Buongiorno, Joanne, e felice!’ he leaned over and opened the passenger door.

  ‘Hello Fabio, lovely to see you too!’ Frissons of excitement swirled inside her as she eased herself into the passenger seat. Her voice stayed anything but calm as she said, ‘Thank you for the lift.’

  ‘My pleasure. Is it okay if we take a small diversion?’ Fabio looked at her enquiringly.

  For a brief moment, Joanne was lost in his gaze and had to focus as he explained,

  ‘I’ve promised Paolo – the gardener, remember? I said I’d call by with his tobacco.’

  ‘Of course, I’d love to see Paolo again.’

  Fabio drove slowly as he asked how she’d been spending her time. ‘I’d have phoned you, but didn’t have your number. I was concerned you might have been affected by the accident on the beach.’

  Joanne shook her head. ‘No, I was fine, thanks.’ Her cheeks flushed. Was this Fabio’s subtle way to enquire how she felt about their embrace on the beach? She felt his keen gaze. ‘It was a fantastic day – I really enjoyed every minute.’ Take that which way you like, she thought, as a carefree laugh rippled from her throat.

  ‘Benissimo!’

  Whether his delighted comment referred to that incident or to their lovely day together, Joanne could only surmise. Ruefully she brooded; I’m only here for a few more days - crazy to hope anything can come of our friendship. ‘I hope that boy recovered; it must have been a horrible experience for him.’

  ‘I checked with the hospital,’ Fabio said. ‘He’s been released back to his mother – I bet she showed her relief with a scolding!’

 
Joanne leaned back as Fabio increased the speed, she shut her eyes and confirmed that Renzo held no threat with this man’s warm nature to protect her.

  Later as they left Paolo, Fabio gave her a questioning look. ‘Look, it’s quite early; Angelina’s expecting us to arrive for lunch.’ His head on one side he suggested, ‘Have you seen the gardens of La Mortella? No? How would you like...’

  ‘Oh, I’d love to!’ She interjected and sat up straight. ‘You know that’s the one place I’ve always looked forward – but the days have gone by so quickly I ...’

  ‘Bene!’ Fabio changed gear and they raced along the coastal road, the sea below leaping with silver waves and like a happy school boy he began to sing aloud, ‘...dei giorni particolari che adesso le faccio vedere...’

  Joanne giggled, in her heart singing along with him. She knew enough to translate a happy song about the special place he longed to show her.

  ‘It’s a favourite place of mine, these gardens. They were developed with great care and love by Lady Walton back in the 1940’s,’ he murmured as they drew to a halt in front of the large, wrought iron gates. ‘She planted many exotic, rare plants here.’ For a moment, she sensed he seemed reluctant to drive in and park the car.

  ‘My mother used to come here and paint years ago,’ he volunteered, sadly. ‘I still miss her.’ He started the engine and drove slowly before slipping into a parking slot.

  She’d not revealed to him that Angelina had spoken of how their mother died. A surge of sympathy swept through Joanne. She stepped from the car lost in reverie, her emotions tangled with the ache of missing her own mother. ‘I can truly sympathise. My mother died very young.’

  ‘My dear Joanne, I feel sad for you. I haven’t wanted to pry. Perhaps one day you might feel I can be trusted to know more about your life.’

  He seemed to imply they might have a future. Tingles pricked her insides. ‘Yes - not much to tell but I’m sure I could share it with you,’ she volunteered. Her thoughts turned to the awful way his mother, Signora Ross met her end, and feeling the need to breach the silence she asked, ‘Have you any of your mother’s paintings? I’d love to see them if that would not upset you.’