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‘And has she contacted her mother?’ Lucia was scathing. ‘Forgive me, I know I’m old-fashioned, but don’t English girls keep in touch with their own parents these days?’
‘Of course they do,’ retorted Rafe testily. ‘But Ashley’s mother isn’t her mother. Their father married twice. Teresa is the older sister.’
‘Che sorpresa!’ What a surprise! Lucia was sardonic. ‘People get married and divorced at the drop of a hat these days.’ She crossed herself before continuing. ‘Thank Jesu for the Holy Catholic church. At least most good Catholics take their vows seriously.’
Rafe knew that was directed at him but he chose not to rise to it. It wasn’t worth it. He contented himself with saying drily, ‘I understand Teresa’s mother is dead.’ Then, refusing to feel defensive, added, ‘In any case, as you’ll have guessed, Ashley wasn’t at her mother’s home. It seems she has told her sister a pack of lies.’
Lucia shook her head. ‘It sounds very suspicious to me.’
Rafe controlled his temper with an effort. ‘Well, I cannot help that,’ he said grimly.
‘But you must admit it is strange that this woman—this Teresa—doesn’t know where her sister is.’ She arched an aristocratic eyebrow. ‘Why on earth would she want to keep her whereabouts a secret from her?’
‘Because she knew her sister wouldn’t approve any more than we do?’ suggested Rafe tightly. ‘I don’t know, Mama. But I believe her and I think you should do the same.’
Lucia sniffed and Rafe thought how ridiculous this was, having to explain himself to his mother. Sometimes she behaved as if he were no older than Marco. He supposed it came of giving her free rein with the household after Gina walked out.
‘So what happens now?’ she inquired at last when it became obvious that Rafe was going to say no more. ‘Do I take it that unless the woman gets in touch with her sister, the information Verdicci gave you is our only lead?’
‘I will also speak to Maria,’ said Rafe. ‘She and Marco share most things and she may know where he’s gone. It’s a long shot and for the present we only know they disembarked in Genova. I suspect the Daniels woman guessed we might check the airlines and buying tickets to Milano was meant to throw us off the scent.’
‘And knowing they might be in Genova helps us how?’
‘Well, obviously she didn’t know we were watching her. She has no reason to believe that we might question whether they completed their journey. Ergo, she will expect us to make inquiries in Milano. Inquiries which, as we now know, would have gained us nothing.’
‘Very well.’ Lucia accepted his reasoning. ‘But Genova is a big city. How do you propose to find them there?’
‘I’m hoping Ashley will have hired an automobile,’ replied Rafe, finishing his coffee and getting to his feet again. He paced somewhat restlessly across the terrazzo tiles, staring out at the distant vineyard, hazy in the morning sunshine. ‘Verdicci is checking the rental agencies at the airport. If she has used her own name, we will find them, never fear.’
‘And if she hasn’t?’
‘Car rental agencies need identification. If my guess is correct, she will have used her passport to confirm her identity. Either that or her work permit. In each case, she will have had to use her own name. She may even have had to give an address—a local address, I mean. Somewhere she plans to stay. Where they plan to stay.’
Lucia’s lips crumpled. ‘Oh, this is so terrible! Every time I close my eyes, all I can see is Marco and that woman, together. It’s—appalling! Disgusting!’
‘Don’t exaggerate, Mama.’ Rafe could see she was building up to another hysterical outburst. His lips twisted. ‘For all I know, Marco may be more experienced than we thought. He must have something to have attracted the interest of a woman of her age.’
‘Don’t be offensive!’ Lucia gazed at him with horrified eyes. ‘How can you even say such things? Marco is just a child—’
‘He’s nearly seventeen, Mama.’ Rafe was impatient now. ‘He’s not a child. He’s a young man.’ He paused. ‘With a young man’s needs and—desires.’
Lucia’s spine stiffened and she pushed herself rigidly to her feet. ‘Very well,’ she said coldly. ‘I can see you are not prepared to discuss this sensibly so I might as well go. I should have expected this of you, of course. You’ve never taken a strong enough hand with that boy and now we’re all suffering the consequences.’
Rafe blew out a breath. ‘You’re not suffering anything, Mama. Except perhaps from a little jealousy. I know you’ve always thought the sun shone out of Marco’s—well, you’ve always favoured him over Maria. Perhaps you ought to wonder if you are in any way responsible for his apparent rebellion against parental authority.’
Lucia’s jaw dropped. ‘You can’t blame me?’
‘I’m not blaming anyone,’ retorted Rafe wearily. ‘You are. All I’m doing is defending myself.’
‘As you did when Gina decided she’d had enough of your indifference?’ declared his mother tersely, making for the door. ‘You’ve always neglected your family, Raphael. First your wife and now your son. With you, your work must always come first.’
‘Gina slept with my estate manager,’ said Rafe through his teeth, but Lucia was not deterred.
‘She was lonely, Raphael. She needed love and you didn’t give it to her. What did you expect?’
Trust? Loyalty? Rafe didn’t attempt to dispute her words, however. This was an old argument and one he had no intention of rekindling. Gina hadn’t wanted love, she’d wanted sex. Her affair with Guido Marchetta might have been the reason he’d divorced her, but it hadn’t been the first. He had never told his mother that and now was not the time to do so.
‘Look,’ he said, his tone neutral. ‘Let’s not get into blaming ourselves. Marco’s somewhere out there and I’m going to find him.’
Lucia shrugged. ‘If you can,’ she said scornfully, determined to have the last word, and Rafe let her enjoy her small victory.
CHAPTER THREE (#uf49da190-7379-5f22-8b6e-57a71d69fbef)
AS TESS had half expected, Ashley’s mother rang the gallery just after the man, Castelli, had left.
Tess didn’t blame her. She wouldn’t have been satisfied with the terse explanation she had given her. But once Tess had ascertained that Ashley wasn’t there, all she’d wanted to do was get off the phone. It had been bad enough having to relay the news to Castelli. Discussing Ashley’s whereabouts with her mother while he’d listened in just hadn’t been possible.
Even so, when the phone pealed in the small office she paused a moment to pray that it might be her sister instead. The gallery was still empty and she had no excuse for not answering it. And it could be anyone, she reminded herself, not looking forward to explaining the situation to Andrea.
‘Teresa?’ Clearly Ashley’s mother had no difficulty in distinguishing between their voices. ‘What’s going on? What are you doing at the gallery? Where’s Ashley?’
Tess sighed. When she’d spoken to Andrea earlier, she hadn’t mentioned the gallery. But it was only natural that Andrea would ring here when she got no reply from Tess’s flat. And this was where her daughter was supposed to be, after all.
‘Um—she’s taking a holiday,’ Tess managed at last, deciding that the best liars were those who stuck most closely to the truth. ‘It’s good to hear from you, Andrea. How are you?’
‘Never mind how I am, Teresa.’ There was no affection in the older woman’s voice. ‘Five minutes ago you rang here asking to speak to Ashley. You must have known how upsetting that would be for me. As far as I knew, she was still in Porto San Michele.’
‘You’ve heard from her?’
Tess couldn’t keep the excitement out of her voice and her stepmother detected it. ‘Of course, I’ve heard from her,’ she said shortly. And then, more suspiciously, ‘Why shouldn’t I? She still cares about me, you know.’
‘Well, of course she does—’
‘Just because you encouraged her to leave home and live alone, as you do, doesn’t mean Ashley doesn’t have a conscience,’ continued Andrea preposterously. ‘I know you’ve always been jealous of our relationship, Teresa, but if this is some ploy to try and get me to think badly of—’
‘It’s not.’
Tess couldn’t even begin to unravel what Andrea was talking about. She hadn’t encouraged Ashley to leave home and work in Italy. She had certainly never been jealous of her relationship with her mother. Envious, perhaps, because her own mother wasn’t there to share her hopes and fears; her development. But Aunt Kate had been a wonderful substitute. And what she’d lacked in experience, she’d more than made up for in love.
‘Then why ring me?’ demanded Andrea accusingly. ‘Worrying me unnecessarily, making me wonder if something terrible had happened to her.’
‘It’s not like that.’
‘Then what is it like? You ask me if I’ve heard from her as if she’s gone missing. Don’t you have her mobile phone number? Why don’t you ring her on that?’
Tess hesitated. ‘Her phone’s not working,’ she admitted. ‘And—well, I just wondered if Ashley had gone to England after all. As you’ll have guessed, I’m looking after the gallery while she’s away.’ She paused, seeking inspiration, and then added unwillingly, ‘I—I had a customer of hers asking about—a painting.’ Liar! ‘I—I just thought it was worth seeing if she was staying with you.’
Andrea snorted disbelievingly, and Tess felt a growing sense of injustice at the impossible position Ashley had put her in. Not only had she left her to deal with her boyfriend’s irate father, but she must have known Tess might ring her mother when she believed that that was where Ashley was.
All the same, it wasn’t in Tess’s nature to upset anyone unnecessarily, and, taking a deep breath, she said, ‘I’m sure she’ll be in touch with me again in a few days.’ She’ll have to, Tess added to herself. Ashley knew she was due back at school in ten days as well. ‘But—um—if you hear from her in the meantime, could you ask her to ring me? The—er—the customer I was telling you about, he is pretty eager to speak to Ashley himself.’
Andrea was silent for so long that Tess began to hope that she’d pacified the woman. But just as she was about to excuse herself on the pretext that someone had come into the gallery Ashley’s mother spoke again.
‘And you have absolutely no idea where Ashley is?’ she asked again urgently, a worrying tremor in her voice. ‘If you do know anything, Teresa, I demand that you tell me. Do you think I should come out there? If Ashley’s missing, the police ought to be informed.’
‘Ashley’s not missing.’ Tess hurried to reassure her, cursing her sister anew for getting her into this mess. ‘Honestly, Andrea, there’s no need for you to concern yourself. Ashley’s taken a break, that’s all. She’s probably turned off her phone so she isn’t bothered with nuisance calls.’
‘I hope you’re not suggesting that if I ring my daughter she’d regard it as a nuisance call!’ exclaimed Andrea at once, but at least the disturbing tremor had left her voice.
‘Of course not,’ protested Tess, determining to find out exactly what Ashley had been telling her mother about their relationship. Andrea hadn’t always treated her kindly, but she hadn’t regarded Tess as an enemy before.
‘Oh, well…’ There was resignation in the woman’s voice now. ‘I suppose I have to take your word for it. But, remember, I expect you to keep me informed if there are any developments. And if you hear from Ashley, you can tell her that I expect her to ring me at once.’
‘Okay.’
Somehow, Tess found the right words to end the conversation, and with a feeling of immense relief she put the handset down. But her sense of indignation didn’t end when she severed the connection. She was beginning to feel distinctly put upon and she wished she’d never agreed to come here in the first place.
An image of Castelli flashed before her eyes, but she refused to acknowledge it. She had no intention of allowing her interview with the Italian to influence her mood. Besides which, he was just someone else who regarded her as unworthy of his respect.
She scowled. This was not the way Ashley had sold this trip to her. Her sister had asked her to babysit the gallery, true, but she’d also sweetened the request with promises of long sunny days and evenings spent exploring the bars and ristorantes of the popular resort. Not that Tess cared much for bars, but the idea of eating in real Italian restaurants had been appealing. And, like anyone else who held down a job, she’d looked forward to spending some time on the beach.
Now it was all spoilt. After spending the first couple of evenings tidying Ashley’s apartment and making sense of her bookkeeping, she was confronted by this situation. It was typical of Ashley, she thought flatly. Typical of her sister to trample over everyone’s feelings if it made her happy. And there was no doubt that Ashley had known how Tess would have reacted if she’d told her what she’d intended. That was why she’d made sure she’d been long gone before Tess had arrived.
It was so frustrating; so disappointing. She should have guessed there was more to it than Ashley had told her. She should have rung Andrea before she’d left England. It was her own fault for not expressing any interest in her stepmother’s health. But for now she was helpless. Until Ashley chose to contact her, there was nothing she could do.
She had planned on treating herself to an evening meal at the local pizzeria before returning to the apartment, but she changed her mind. After spending an uneasy day jumping every time someone came into the gallery, she was in no mood for company. She would buy herself some salad greens, she thought, toss them in a lemon vinaigrette, and grate some parmesan for flavour.
She was about to lock up when a man appeared in the doorway. He had his back to the light and for a ridiculous moment she thought Castelli had come back. Her heart skipped a beat and hot colour surged into her throat. But then the man moved and she realised her mistake.
It was Silvio Palmieri, she saw at once, the young man who ran the sports shop next door. Though perhaps calling the establishment he managed a sports shop was understating the obvious, Tess mused. With its windows full of endorsements from famous sports personalities and the exclusive designer gear it sold, it was definitely not just a sports shop.
Still, she acknowledged she had been foolish to mistake the younger man for Castelli. Silvio was dark, it was true, but that was where the resemblance ended. He didn’t move with the instinctive grace of a predator or regard her with tawny-eyed suspicion. Silvio was just a rather pleasant man who had taken it upon himself to look out for her.
‘Ciao,’ he said. Then he noticed her expression. ‘Mi scusi, I startle you, no?’
‘Oh—I was miles away,’ murmured Tess, gathering her composure. ‘You surprised me, that’s all.’
Silvio frowned. ‘You have not had bad news?’ he asked, with surprising perception. ‘Ashley’s mama—she has not had a relapse, spero?’
‘Not as far as I know,’ said Tess drily, not at all sure how Andrea must be feeling at this moment. ‘Um—have you had a good day?’
Silvio shrugged. ‘What do you say? So-so? Si, it has been a so-so day. How about you?’
Tess felt an almost irresistible urge to laugh, but she doubted Silvio would appreciate her hysterics. She couldn’t involve him in her problems. Ashley wouldn’t like it and Castelli definitely wouldn’t approve.
‘It’s been—interesting,’ she said, moving to drop the blinds on the windows. ‘But I’m not sorry it’s over.’ And that was the truth.
‘I saw Raphael di Castelli come into the gallery earlier,’ Silvio ventured, his brows raised in inquiry, and Tess wondered if she was being absurdly suspicious in thinking that that was the real reason he had come. ‘He is quite a well-known person in San Michele. In the season, many people work at the villa. Picking the grapes, capisce?’
Tess stared at him. ‘You know him?’ she asked, absorbing the fact that his name was Raphael di Castelli. She moistened her lips. ‘Does he have a large vineyard, then?’
‘I think so.’ Silvio was regarding her curiously now. ‘And, no, I do not know him. Well, not personally, you understand?’
Tess hesitated. Ashley’s interest in Marco was beginning to make sense. ‘And Ashley?’ she asked, trying to sound casual. ‘I believe she knows his son?’
‘Ah, Marco.’ Silvio nodded. ‘Si. Marco is—how do you say?—the artist, no?’
‘Marco’s a painter?’
‘He would like to be.’ Silvio spread a hand towards the paintings lining the walls of the gallery. ‘He would like the exhibition, I think.’
Tess caught her breath. Castelli hadn’t mentioned that his son wanted to be a painter. But perhaps it explained how Ashley had come to know Marco, however.
Now she looked around. ‘Are any of these his paintings?’ she asked cautiously and Silvio laughed.
‘A mala pena.’ Hardly. ‘But he is ambitious, no?’
‘I see.’ Tess nodded. ‘Does his father approve?’
‘I think not,’ said Silvio, sobering. ‘Di Castellis do not waste their time with such pursuits. Besides, Marco is still at school.’
‘Ah.’ Tess thought that explained a lot. ‘Well, thank you for your insight. It was certainly—um—interesting.’
‘And Marco’s father?’ prompted Silvio. ‘You didn’t say what he wanted.’
‘Oh.’ Tess had no intention of discussing the reasons for Castelli’s visit with him. ‘He—er—he was looking for Ashley.’ She crossed her fingers. ‘He didn’t say why.’
‘Mmm.’
Silvio didn’t sound convinced, but Tess decided she had said enough. ‘Now, I’ve got to go,’ she said. ‘I want to go to the supermarket before I go home.’
‘Or you could have dinner with me,’ Silvio suggested at once. ‘There is a favourite trattoria of mine just a short way from here.’
‘Oh, I don’t think—’
‘You are not going to turn me down?’
Silvio pulled a petulant face, but Tess had had enough. ‘I am sure there are plenty of women only too eager to dine with you, Silvio,’ she said firmly. ‘I’m sorry, but it’s been a long day and I’m tired. I wouldn’t be very good company tonight.’
‘But Ashley, she said you would be glad to go out with me,’ he protested. ‘She tell me you are not—attached, no?’
‘Did she?’ Tess wondered what else Ashley had told these people about her. ‘Well, she was wrong, Silvio. I do have a boyfriend.’ Boyfriends, anyway, she justified herself. There was no need to tell him there was no special man in her life.
Silvio shrugged. ‘But he is not here,’ he pointed out blandly, and she sighed.
‘Even so…’
‘Another evening, perhaps,’ he declared, evidently undeterred by her answer. Then to her relief he walked towards the door. ‘A domani, cara. Arrivederci.’
