How interesting he is, Joanne thought admiring his knowledge and the way he put it to use. ‘Fabio,’ she said shaking her head. ‘I must be the most ignorant person you’ve ever known.’
‘Oh yes? I see the wilful, most intriguing ...I won’t say more but you are a perfect,’ he munched his lips as he teased her and his eyes twinkled, ‘a perfect idiot to think that!’ On impulse Joanne reached up and kissed him gently on his warm lips, but conscious of how much time he’d wasted, decided she must leave him to return to his work on his paintings as soon as they’d visited the Museum.
‘Come, we’re almost there.’
Joanne’s mind had eased. Fabio took her hand as they wandered around and looked at the Victorian paintings.
‘Wonderful, they’ve produced scenes that have already disappeared,’ he said. ‘This is what I try to capture.’
It was a treat to view them with Fabio and learn their techniques.
Fabio nodded. ‘I feel we must do all we can to keep the old traditions alive.’
Still conscious of taking up Fabio’s time as they emerged onto the street, Joanna declared, ‘I’m off to take some photos,’ and unwilling to break the spell added, ‘I loved the Museum and seeing the paintings with you. By the way,’ she spoke diffidently, ‘Tom Saunders said he would like to meet you. He thinks you might be able to verify some research – something about water levels I think, nothing to do with the Winery,’ she added quickly. ‘Would you be okay about that?’
Fabio’s brows creased for a moment as he considered the suggestion. And then his expression cleared and he said, ‘probably a good idea. Have you got his phone number with you?’ They’d reached his car.
Joanne rummaged in her bag for her wallet and produced Tom’s card. ‘Yes, it’s here.’
Fabio stared at it for a moment while his eyebrows met in a frown.
Joanne’s heart thumped, dreading she’d really annoyed him now. Fabio shook his head slowly and stared at the card. ‘Research? Whatever is he researching? Sorry, Joanne dear but I don’t think I need to meet this Tom. A snooper is he, looking to expose...?’
‘No Fabio,’ she interjected swiftly. ‘That’s not what he does, I promise. Its research for his studies – she pointed to Tom’s card – environmental studies. A pulse throbbed at her temple. ‘Yes,’ she said firmly. ‘I’d put my money on Tom Saunders as an honest person. He’s just generally interested in the ecology.’
‘So what did you expect to learn from him then?’
His question threw Joanne for a moment. What indeed had she expected to learn? She rallied and decided to voice her intention. ‘He’d mentioned that one the workers at the Winery cornered him with stories of how they were treated.’
‘I don’t see how this might affect you Joanne.’ His tone was crisp. Then it changed and he muttered angrily. ‘I can assure you I am quite unaware the workers are not well treated. Believe me when I say had I suspected that, I would have approached my cousin about it. He’s always given me to understand he provides excellent working conditions. Perhaps I’ve been negligent,’ he said. ‘I must look into this.’
Oh dear, Joanne could have strangled herself for speaking out of turn. ‘I’m sorry, Fabio; it’s nothing to do with me, I know. I was just trying to see how Renzo operated. He’s forced an expensive gift on me; a silk scarf besides expensive meals and the sailing instruction and it alerted my suspicious mind.
‘I understand,’ Fabio said slowly. ‘That does appear rather odd.’ His mood changed and he opened his hands in appeal to her. ‘Please dear Joanne will you forgive my lapse? I had no right to question you or react badly.’
His conciliatory words washed over her. ‘There’s nothing to forgive, Fabio. I wish I’d spoken to you earlier about bumping into Tom Saunders, that’s all.’
‘No, Joanne. I jumped to conclusions about his job. You have every right to make any enquiries that you feel might affect you.’ He hesitated. ‘It’s about time everything was in the open about the running of the Winery and I...’
He didn’t finish the sentence because Joanne took the initiative and gave him such a
big hug it winded him for a moment. And then right there in the street they kissed as do so many couples in Italy, a kiss that expressed their relief and fear that they’d risked losing one another. She heard a wolf whistle as they broke apart and smiled.
‘I’ll not approach Renzo yet, then. First I’ll contact Tom Saunders and see if we can meet up tomorrow.’ There was a catch in Fabio’s voice. ‘Is that all right with you, my dearest?’
When she nodded, he looked at Tom’s card and wrote the number on the back of his hand. ‘You will be there to introduce me, won’t you?’
She’d regained composure. ‘Of course, I think you’ll find him easy to get on with. He’s quite young but intelligent. I hope he’s free tomorrow.’ Her voice tailed off. ‘The days are flying by. I had to agree to go for a long sail with Renzo on my last day here.’
‘I can hardly bear to think of you leaving Ischia. If only you could stay...’
Her heart flipped. Was there unspoken commitment in his words? ‘If only,’ she started to say as her face lengthened. ‘But I have to go back to my job in Rome soon. I’ve taken all my holiday.’
Fabio shook his head. ‘Rome, yes Rome, one of the finest cities in the world. But for an artist who paints landscapes, it is not the...’
‘I understand. I do wish I could stay. Renzo has mentioned his plan to start a Sailing School and employing me as a sailing instructor, but I’m not keen on the idea at all.’ A sigh escaped her. Their situation seemed hopeless.
‘We shall make the most of our time together then.’ Fabio attempted to cheer her with a laugh. ‘Fate will find a way. To quote a cliché – “Where there’s a Will there’s a Way”. Isn’t that another favourite English maxim?’ he remarked with a grin.
How could she not have fallen for this man? She recalled a scene just days ago when Fabio had taken her to Paolo’s cottage. Wearing faded jeans, hands stained with paint, Fabio paid no heed when a sweater snagged as he carried a basket of fruit for the old gardener. Renzo was always so fastidious about his appearance and Fabio was wonderfully, comfortably different.
Without warning, a premonition of something, she couldn’t tell what, shadowed her mind and she dreaded spending her last day sailing with Renzo. A memory flew in of that moment at Fabio’s studio the first day they’d visited Paolo and the old man had seemed about to reveal something unpleasant about Renzo. She had sensed even then that Fabio harboured doubts about his cousin. Why was Fabio unable to fully explain? Yet if he had, she might have packed up earlier and left Ischia.
A sudden rush of intense feeling for Fabio forced her anxieties away before they fully formed. She asked, ‘Perhaps you’ll drop me off down by the harbour, please? I’ll take photographs of the fishermen mending their nets before they set sail.’
Fabio gave her a quick glance. ‘Joanne, I’m desperately sorry if my family have done anything to spoil your holiday. My cousin has a lot to answer for.’ He concentrated on driving through the busy traffic. She jumped as a van shot out of a side street with a screech and almost collided with them and giggled when Fabio mouthed something and shook his fist at the driver.
When he next spoke, his words were full of emotion. She was taken by surprise.
‘I care deeply for you, Joanne.’
There it was just what she’d longed to hear and it set her heart wildly thumping. She strained her ears above the noise of the engine, afraid she’d misheard. But he continued,
‘I mean that sincerely. I’ve come to a decision. Your welfare has become the most important thing in my life. I shall do all I can to protect you even should it mean revealing things to my sister about the source of the income she receives from Renzo.’
‘No! I can’t let you do that.’ Joanne burst out. His words made her heart skip but her feelings for her friend Angelina would not allow him. ‘Angelina would be
heart broken.’
They’d arrived at the harbour and Fabio pulled over into a bay and stopped the engine. ‘It can’t go on.’ His voice rasped. ‘I should have done something about it a long time ago. Sooner or later Angelina will have found out; gossip abounds in the villages. That would be a far worse shock than knowing her brother has kept her from the truth about our cousins unlawful dealing that support her.’ He turned away and she heard his deep sigh. ‘It’s best if I break it to her personally in a gentle manner.’
‘It’s my fault,’ Joanne said with a catch in her voice. ‘I’ve brought this upon you. Things would have carried on as usual if I’d not accepted Renzo’s invitation to crew.’
Fabio reached over and drew her close. ‘No, you have done quite the reverse. You, dear Joanne have brought me the true love I thought never to find.’
As their mouths met joy spread through her body, scattering her senses so that when they parted she was speechless and could only nod when he said,
‘I’ll telephone you, my love, when I’ve arranged a time to meet Tom Saunders.’
***
Joanne was on edge as uncertainties about Renzo returned and she felt a pressing need for exercise. It was still light that evening and making a quick decision to take some photographs, she returned to her hotel room to fetch a warm sweater. Casting it about her shoulders she picked up her camera and left. Soon she was hurrying on foot away from the hotel.
The wind had dropped and it looked like a perfect opportunity to fix on film the essence of the place that she would soon have to leave. During her walk to the harbour, the aroma of exotic plants wafted on the evening air to fill her lungs and wrought a sense of peace. She strode past the lovely villas set back amongst lush gardens and hoped they would not be prey to the developer.
At eight pm. the ritual of the evening promenade was in full swing and families dressed in their finest strolled to and fro alongside the harbour, greeting one another and exchanging a few words. Joanne walked slowly on towards the eastern edge of the harbour and stopped to sit on the wall, mesmerized by the scene. The evening sun burnished the sea with copper tints while the sky, a duck egg blue against clouds the shade of lavender, transmuted to pink and apricot even as she blinked. Long shadows created surreal images on the water and shrouds chinked on tall masts that swayed to and fro.
She gave a start at the raucous sound of two raised voices. They’d broken the sense of peace and her eyes were drawn to the narrow strip of shingle at the water’s edge. Two men faced one another no more than a dozen feet away from her, engaged in an argument. Joanne’s heart began to pump. One of the contestants was Renzo. Instinctively she slipped out of sight into the narrow gap between two boat sheds above them. Here in this dark, damp space she inhaled the musk of mildew, fish and the briny smell of the sea and heard Renzo snarl,
‘You’ll not oblige then ever again? What? Not tempted, even if I provide enough cash to buy another fishing boat?’
‘Not ... likely! I told you. Get some other fool - or do your own dirty work, Signor Renzo.’
Joanne’s mind raced. She knew the other man. It was Marco – that rough individual who looked after Renzo’s boat. He must have turned away but she caught the words, ‘I don’t do trouble and I don’t need your money.’ And then what sounded like expletives... he muttered, ‘A quiet life with my wife and kids is want I want.’
As she remained hidden, the memory of that unpleasant encounter with Marco returned. His mouth had turned down in a sneer as he called to her rudely, ‘On this Island girls don’t go on boats with men! You might be sorry.’
Joanne thrust the memory away and strained to hear what was happening. She barely caught the gist.
‘You’ll regret turning this down!’ Renzo voice was hard. ‘Don’t crawl back and ask any favours, I’ve finished with you; plenty of others will grab the chance to look after my yacht - and do that other job without questions!’
‘Okay with me!’
She could picture the veins pulsing in Renzo’s neck. He was not the sort of man who expected to be thwarted. Whatever was going on? Why had Marco retaliated with those coarse words? It sounded as if Renzo was offering him a great deal of cash to maintain his yacht - or was there some other job involved? Joanne listened but heard no more. Only the gentle swish of waves broke the silence, together with the low conversations of the occasional passer-by. Dare she leave her hiding place? What if Renzo was still down there brooding, smoking a cigar? She took a deep breath and her nose wrinkled. This place smelled too unpleasantly of rotten fish.
She tried to make up her mind and eased her body into a more comfortable position, all the while anxious not to be spotted by Renzo and exposed as a spy. She peered at her watch. Ten minutes had passed when her patience finally gave in and she peeped around the edge of the shed and saw no sign of either man.
The sun was sinking and the crowds had thinned. Joanne eased out into the open and waited as her heart lippity-lopped, anxious that Renzo could still be lurking nearby. A quick glance around confirmed he was nowhere to be seen. Further along the harbour one man was busy sorting boat tackle and took no notice of her.
Joanne tried to thrust this scene away. She must act as normal with Renzo and give no indication she suspected anything. Her hands had steadied and taking up her camera she focused on the boats which swayed to and fro on their moorings. Their long shadows rippled over water thick with oil, the sheen like a slick of carmine lipstick in the last rays of sunset. Pennants and flags fluttered in the evening breeze and as the scene slowly wrought its magic, her mind adjusted and grew calm.
***
She was on her way back to the hotel when her phone rang.
‘I’ve arranged with Tom to meet us at café Bertoldo tomorrow evening,’ Fabio reported. ‘At 8.15pm during his work break. Shall I collect you at 7.30pm Joanne? I’m sorry I can’t make it any earlier. I’d love to spend more time with you but I’m being pressed to finish a painting and can’t throw up a good commission.’ He really did sound rushed.
‘That’s absolutely fine, Fabio. Please don’t hurry. I’ll be ready whenever you can make it. Cafe Bertoldo, by the way, is a local workmen’s place but they do serve good food.’
‘You can always depend on a place where locals eat. You don’t mind if I look over Tom’s papers there with him during the meal?’
‘Of course I don’t. I shall enjoy listening in to the local’s conversation.’
Joanne was constantly surprised by Fabio’s range of interests. Tonight he would assist Tom with his study of Ischia’s natural environment. As usual Fabio played down his knowledge.
‘Anyone would have gleaned as much as I,’ he chuckled as he spoke, ‘anyone, that is, who had spent as much time as I, exploring the Island and making studies to paint.’
Chapter 15
There was no sign of Tom the following evening when Joanne arrived with Fabio at Café Bertoldo.
‘He’ll still be busy washing dishes out the back.’ Joanne explained.
The place was packed solid with locals.
A waiter finally spotted them as they hovered in the entrance and squeezed towards them past the tables. ‘Dica Signor?’
‘Good evening. There’s a table booked in my name, Fabio Rosso?’
The waiter shook his head, ‘I’m sorry Signor, not booked’
‘A table for Tom Saunders, perhaps?’ The waiter shook his head and scanned the room. ‘Follow please.’ He quickly ushered them to a table just vacated. Joanne was surprised Tom hadn’t reserved a table. They sat for some time surrounded by noisy talk and outbreaks of laughter, expecting Tom to appear from the kitchen at any moment. It was clearly a popular rendezvous for locals and the hubbub put a stop to any chance of making normal conversation. Joanne contented herself with the wine Fabio ordered as she listened in to snatches of conversation at nearby tables. She saw Fabio glance towards the kitchen exit and back at his watch.
‘Tom should have ended his shift b
y now.’ His brows met in a frown. ‘I’m surprised he’s late. He definitely said 8.30pm at the latest but I expect he’s got his work cut out tonight. I’ll get the waiter to pass him a message.’
‘I’m sure Tom doesn’t wish to let us down. What time is it now?’
‘Almost 8.45.’ Fabio leaned forward and beckoned the waiter who was dealing with several customers and another few minutes elapsed before he came to their table. Fabio had to raise his voice to make himself heard. ‘Excuse me. We have arranged to meet Tom Saunders here during his break. Is he still working out the back?’ He indicated the door to the kitchens. ‘He was to meet us at 8.15.’
Joanne caught the waiter’s startled expression. Puzzled she set down her glass.
‘I’m sorry Signor, Tom not here. Not work his shift.’ It was Valerio, Tom’s friend.
Fabio stared at him. ‘Did he phone in? What’s happened to him?’
‘No Signor, no message.’ He shook his head and glanced away, clearly in demand.
Joanne got to her feet and detained him. ‘Do you know if Tom was unwell the last time he worked here, Valerio?’
The waiter shook his head. ‘Tom very fit, Signorina. Works hard, washes dishes.’
Fabio’s mouth firmed as he stood up and placed a hand lightly on her shoulder. ‘Come Joanne, forget our meal. I think we should go.’
Once outside Fabio frowned. ‘I don’t like it, Joanne. Either Tom is not to be trusted, or...’
‘I’m sure he’s honest.’ She spoke firmly. ‘Something’s happened – I’ve got this feeling,’
Fabio looked at her, perplexed. ‘You seem very positive, Joanne.’
‘I’d vouch he’s 100% trustworthy.’ Her mouth tightened. ‘It occurred to me...’
‘Yes?’
‘I’m not sure,’ she said vaguely. ‘Just a suspicion that’s all.’
‘Well we’ve nothing else to go on, so why not tell me what’s in your mind, Joanne?’
Beyond The Island Page 20