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They would smile and say how good it was to see him, how concerned they’d been while he was away, how they’d thought about him every day.
And it would all be true.
But there was something else, also true, that nobody would mention. They would worry, lest he rock the boat of their happy marriage with his bitterness and anger, his anguished, unrequited love. They would look at each other behind his back, and know that an alien had come among them. And they would long silently for him to leave.
‘I could never love you,’ Alex had said. ‘Not as you want, anyway.’
But even she had never understood how deeply in love with her he had fallen. Before that he’d loved as a very young man, plunging into infatuation and out again, like the giddy whirl of a carousel.
But when he met Alex the carousel had stopped, tossing him to the ground so that he rose into a new world, one where she existed. The one. The only one, for, like many young men who love lightly and carelessly, he had been struck by the real thing like a thunderbolt. After that no more carelessness was possible.
‘Not as you want,’ she had said.
He had wanted everything from her, love, tenderness, passion, a promise to last a lifetime.
And he’d thought he had them, until the night he returned to find her in his brother’s bed.
CHAPTER TWO
SOMETIMES the dreams were worse than the waking memories. If you were awake you could decide not to think about it, but dreams were remorseless.
In dreams he had no choice but to live again the moment at the Belluna harvest party where he’d told Alex of his love in front of all their neighbours.
Even now his own words and actions could give him a shiver of shame.
‘You’ve always known how I felt about you,’ he’d said with all the force of his love. ‘Even when I was playing the fool, my heart was all yours.’
Then he’d gone down on one knee, in the sight of them all, and begged her to be his wife.
Even when she’d looked at him in dismay he hadn’t understood, so deeply submerged was he in his own illusion.
He’d thought she was just embarrassed at receiving a proposal in public, and when they were alone a few minutes later he’d been sure that all would be well. Driven by his overwhelming feelings, he’d told her passionately that she was the one.
‘The only one, different from every other woman I’ve fooled around with and loved for five minutes. It’s not five minutes this time, but all my life and beyond—’
She’d stopped him there, telling him kindly but plainly that she did not love him. Still he couldn’t, wouldn’t believe it, because it was too monstrous to be true. So he’d left, telling himself that he would be back later, and make her understand.
Fool! Fool!
He awoke with a start, sitting up in bed, shaking.
It was dark, and from down below he could hear the murmur of voices. He got out of bed and went to the window, where the turn of the house showed him the lit window of the kitchen, and moving shadows beyond.
The others must have returned, but he couldn’t go down and meet them now. He knew, from experience, that what was happening inside his head couldn’t be stopped. Once he’d started down this bitter path it must be walked to the end. But he would have avoided the next stage if he could.
He’d fled the party, staying away into the early hours, then returning home. There he would seek out Rinaldo, the brother who’d been like a second father to him. Rinaldo, the man he trusted above all others, would know how to advise him.
Dawn was breaking when he went to Rinaldo’s room and walked in without knocking.
What he saw stopped him like a blow. Alex was in the bed, lying on her back, her eyes closed, breathing evenly. And there with her was Rinaldo, sleeping against her chest, wrapped in the protective curve of her arms. The sheet was thrown right back, revealing that they were both completely naked.
He had dreamed of seeing her naked body, but not like this, embracing his brother in the peace that follows passion.
She had awoken first, her face full of horror as she saw him there in the faint light of dawn. Her lips framed his name, she reached out a hand to him, but he backed away as though her touch would kill him.
From the scene that had followed he recalled only the cruel discovery that these two had escaped into another world, one from which he was excluded. Rinaldo had said sadly but firmly, ‘I didn’t take her from you. The choice was hers.’
It was true. Alex hadn’t deceived him. He’d deceived himself. She was not to blame. He kept telling himself that because he needed to keep her on her pedestal. However painful it was, it hurt less than blaming her.
He knew they didn’t understand how the world had shattered around him. Because he had laughed his way through life they’d thought he would laugh this off too. He’d had so many girls. What did it matter if he lost one?
Only he knew that she had been ‘the one’, and always would be, as long as he lived. Her loss was a catastrophe that shook him to the soul, driving him away so that he would not have to see them together.
In losing Alex he had also lost his home. For six months he had travelled, anywhere, as long as it was away from Belluna. As part owner he was entitled to draw an income from the farm, but he drew as little as possible, conscious that he was not there to help with the work.
He took any job he could get, preferably hard manual labour so that he could tire himself out. In this way he earned just enough to get by, until he could decide what he wanted to do. But he could not settle, and he travelled on, always trying to avoid her face, always seeing it dance before him. In the end he had come to England, Alex’s country, where he was always bound to finish.
Now he seemed to have reached a place that was largely featureless. Despite what Laura had told him he had no real idea where the town was in relation to the rest of England and the rest of the world. And in an odd way that suited him.
He had come to nowhere, and he had nothing. When he’d been to the bank he would possess a little money, but he would still, in all important senses, have nothing.
He was cut adrift from his family and everything he knew, and he had no way of going home, because home no longer existed.
Gino opened his eyes to darkness. He must have slept again after all, so deeply that evening had passed into night. His watch told him it was nearly midnight.
He rose, feeling strangely well rested after his turbulent sleep. Looking into the corridor he saw that the rest of the house was dark and quiet.
The other guests must have returned, eaten and gone to bed, shutting their doors. He could see some of those doors in the gloom, all alike.
Which one was the bathroom? How did a stranger find out? Try each one? Hell!
To his relief he heard the front door open and looked over the stair rail to see Laura coming in.
‘Psst!’ he said urgently. ‘Aiuto!’
‘Pardon?’
‘Help. T’imploro!’
‘Why, what’s the matter?’
‘I need—’ in his panic his English deserted him. ‘Un gabinetto,’ he said. ‘Ti prego—ti prego, un gabinetto.’
Laura knew no Italian but she guessed the frantic note in his voice was the same in every language.
‘Here,’ she said, opening a door under the stairs.
‘Grazie, grazie!’
He leapt down the stairs three at a time, shot into the tiny bathroom, and she heard the lock. Grinning in sympathy she slipped upstairs to check Nikki, who was asleep. As she returned to the kitchen and put on the kettle, Gino emerged looking a lot happier.
‘Thank you,’ he said fervently. ‘I’m sorry I shouted at you in Italian. Gabinetto means—’
‘I think I have a pretty good idea of what it means by now,’ she said, and they both laughed.
The kettle boiled, but when she turned to it he stopped her.
‘You sit down,’ he said. ‘I make the tea. You must be very tired.’
‘Thanks.’ She flopped gratefully into a chair. ‘Do you know how to make English tea?’
‘I watched you this afternoon. There, did I do it right?’
The tea was delicious.
‘How many evenings do you work behind a bar?’ he wanted to know.
‘Three, usually.’
‘On top of running this place? When do you have a life?’
‘Nikki is my life. Nothing else matters.’
‘And you are alone?’ he asked delicately.
‘You mean, do I have a husband? I did have. We were very happy, until Nikki was four years old. She adored Jack and he seemed to adore her. Anyone seeing them together would have said he was the perfect father.
‘Then something happened to her face. It began to grow too much, and in ways that it shouldn’t. You can see that her forehead is too large. And Jack left. He just upped and left.’
‘Maria Vergine!’ he exclaimed softly. ‘Un criminale!’
‘If that means what I think it does, yes.’
‘And the piccina, how much does she know?’
‘She knows that her father rejected her. She pretends not to, for my sake. But she knows.’
‘But is there no cure?’
‘Eventually they might be able to do some surgery that puts things right. But not now, while her bones are still growing. In the meantime, she has to wait and suffer. People can be so cruel. They think because she looks different she must be stupid.’
‘No, no, she’s a very bright little girl.’
‘I know, but they tell their children not to play with her. Sometimes they try to be “nice”, but there’s something self-conscious about it, as though they’re congratulating themselves on how nice they’re being.’
‘How does she manage at school?’
‘She’s got a few good friends, and most of the teachers are decent. But some of the other kids bully and tease her, and one teacher actually dared to tell me I should take her out of school because she “couldn’t fit in”. She said Nikki needed a place for children with special needs.’
Gino swore softly.
‘I told her the only special need Nikki had was to be treated with intelligence and understanding. Then I complained to the headmistress, who, luckily, is one of the good guys, and I didn’t have any more trouble from that teacher. But there are always plenty more where she came from.
‘With luck, Nikki will be all right one day. But by that time she’ll have been through all these experiences.’
‘And what happens to her now will mark her for life,’ he said, nodding.
‘You made her so happy in the park today, because you didn’t seem to notice. You looked straight at her and didn’t register anything—not shock, or surprise, nothing. It was—oh, I can’t tell you how wonderful it was, and what it meant to her.’
Gino concentrated on his tea, hoping that his unease didn’t show in his face. He was guiltily aware that he did not deserve her praise. The fact was that he’d been too wrapped up in himself and his own troubles that morning to be aware of anything else.
Laura was still talking eagerly.
‘She’s got this theory that someone must have cast a magic spell, so that you didn’t really see her face.’
‘In a way she’s right,’ he said. ‘But the spell was my own self-absorption. I was so busy feeling sorry for myself that I actually didn’t see her for several moments, even though I was looking at her. So I haven’t earned your kindness.’
‘But don’t you see, that doesn’t matter? You made her happy without even knowing. So maybe she’s right, and it really was a magic spell.’
He nodded. ‘Who cares about the reason if it gave her what she needed? Her face doesn’t matter. She’s a lovely child.’
‘Yes, she is,’ Laura said eagerly. ‘But all she sees is what she reads in the eyes of other people.’
‘I promise you, she’ll never suffer from what she sees in my eyes,’ Gino said seriously.
‘Thank you. You have no idea how important that is.’
Next day at breakfast he met some of the other boarders. Sadie and Claudia, the sisters, were quiet, thin and middle-aged. Their lives revolved around computers, and they could launch into a discussion of the latest technology at the drop of a hat. They worked in Compulor, a nearby computer factory, where they both held positions of responsibility.
Mrs Baxter was the eldest, a bright-eyed little bird of a woman, who looked Gino up and down, and gave a grunt which seemed to imply approval.
Sadie and Claudia were also friendly.
‘We’ve been to Italy,’ Sadie confided.
‘There was a very interesting computer fair in Milan,’ Claudia added. ‘Do you know Milan, Signor Farnese?’
‘Gino, please,’ he said at once. ‘No, I’ve never been to Milan. Tuscany is my part of the world.’
They were full of intelligent questions about Tuscany which Gino answered courteously but reluctantly. He didn’t want to dwell on his home just now.
‘We don’t usually see Bert and Fred at breakfast,’ Laura explained. ‘Fred doesn’t come home until the nightclub has closed in the early hours. Bert is a night-watchman, so he got in five minutes ago and went straight to bed.’
Nikki set off for school accompanied by Mrs Baxter who, although retired, occasionally worked there part-time. Before she left, Nikki addressed Gino like a perfect hostess, ‘I’m afraid I have to go now, but I’ll be back later.’
‘I’ll look forward to that,’ he told her solemnly.
He helped Laura with the washing up, surprising her with his efficiency.
