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‘Do you think she knew?’
‘Of course not.’ Dante shook his head but a muscle was pounding in his cheek, his hands balled into fists by his sides, and Matilda realised that Katrina’s intrusion hadn’t just wrecked the intimate moment—it was almost as if she’d erased it completely. ‘Why on earth would she think there was anything between us?’
She truly wasn’t sure if he was trying to reassure her, or was blatantly degrading her, but Matilda did a dou-ble-take, stunned at the change in him. Gone was the man who had so recently held her and in his place was the inaccessible man she had first encountered.
‘Because maybe she guessed that we just made love.’
Matilda eyes glittered with tears, willing him to take it back, to perhaps realise the brutality of what he had just said, to offer some sort of apology. But Dante just stood there refusing to take it as she offered him an out from his rancid words. ‘Because maybe she’s noticed that over the last few days we’ve become close…’
‘No.’ His single word hurt her even more, if that were possible, his refusal to soften it cheapening her more than she’d thought possible.
‘So what was that all about?’ Matilda asked, gesturing to where they had lain, where he’d found her, held her, made love to her, forcing the confrontation, steeling herself to hear the confirmation of her worst fears. ‘What just happened there, Dante?’
‘Sex.’ Black eyes stung her, a warning note in his voice telling her she’d crossed the line. His lips set in a rigid line as she shook her head, refused his take on the history they’d so recently created.
‘It was more than that and you know it,’ Matilda rasped, shocked by his callousness, reeling from the ferociousness of his sparse summing-up, yet refusing to buy it, because she knew there was more to him, had witnessed the real Dante only moments before, and all she knew was that she wanted him back. ‘Dante, please, don’t do this…’ Matilda attempted, her hand reaching out for his arm, but he recoiled as if she was contaminated, shook her off as if she revolted him.
‘Good sex, then,’ came the elaboration she had foolishly hoped for, the bile at the back of her throat appropriate as he told her his poisonous truth. And it was Matilda recoiling now, Matilda putting up the shutters and swearing she’d never let this man near her again.
‘No, Dante, it wasn’t.’ This time she wasn’t lying, wasn’t denying what she felt. Looking into his cold, hard eyes, she told him the absolute truth. ‘Good sex isn’t just the act, Dante, it’s about how you feel afterwards, and right now, I couldn’t feel worse.’ She knew he was about to walk off, knew that if she didn’t say what was on her mind now then it would fester for ever, had learnt that much at least, so whether he was listening or not she chose to say what she felt. ‘I don’t know what your problem is, I don’t know what it is that drives you to shut out something that could have been so good. Maybe you can justify it by saying that I’m not sophisticated enough to play by your rules, or that I don’t hold a candle to your wife, but that’s entirely your business. Frankly, I don’t care any more.’
His only response was a blink, but she knew that she’d surprised him, knew that even as he shut her out further, right now a little of what she was saying was reaching him. It gave her the impetus to continue, the pain he’d inflicted more than enough to go round. ‘I’m more sorry than you’ll ever know for having sex with you, Dante, but, let’s get one thing clear—I might have lost a bit of my pride here, but you just lost one helluva lot more…’ It was Matilda who walked off, Matilda who headed to the house and left him standing in the garden. She refused to cry, just called her parting shot over her shoulder. ‘You just lost me!’
CHAPTER NINE
HIS callousness, his emotional distancing after the intimacy they’d shared made the most painful of decisions relatively easy, made walking away from Dante about need rather than want. Because sharing his home, glimpsing his life and being shut out over and over was a torture that couldn’t be sustained and gave Matilda the momentum to pick up the phone and call on every friend and colleague she could muster with a view to rapidly finishing the task she had committed herself to, and rapidly removing herself from this impossible situation she had allowed herself to fall into.
It was the most exhausting time of her life. Hanging the expense, more than happy to bill him, more than happy to pay for it herself even, Matilda ordered floodlights to enable her to work long into the warm nights, grateful for the soothing diversion of nature, grateful that by the time her aching body fell into bed at night, all she was capable of was rest, taking the respite of a dreamless, exhausted sleep while knowing the pain would surely come later.
‘I can’t believe what you’ve achieved.’ Deep into a humid, oppressive Saturday evening, Hugh poured her a glass of champagne Matilda didn’t want from the bottle he was holding, having wandered over from the al fresco area where the family had eaten a leisurely dinner. He was now staring in astonishment at the garden, which was almost complete, the sleeping beauty truly awoken, the overgrown wilderness a distant memory. In its place was a child’s paradise—a maze of soft hedges, each leading to its own exciting end, soft turf underfoot and thousands of tiny fairy-lights adorning the massive willow—twinkling in the dusky light and bidding enchantment. ‘What do you think, Katrina?’
‘It’s very nice.’ Katrina’s response wasn’t exactly effusive, but Matilda couldn’t have cared less. The only thing she needed to see her through was the knowledge that in less than twelve hours she’d be out of there, in less than twelve hours she could start to pick up the pieces of her life Dante had so readily shattered. ‘Of course,’ Katrina added, ‘it’s Alex’s opinion that counts.’
Almost on cue, the gate opened and, as she had over the last couple of days whenever their paths had inadvertently crossed, Matilda didn’t even look at Dante. Instead, she focused her attention on Alex, who walked tentatively alongside him, her tiny hand in his. She looked utterly adorable, dressed in cotton pyjamas and cute kitten slippers, newly washed blonde curls framed her pretty face. And as livid and as debased as Matilda felt, momentarily at least, it faded as she watched the little girl’s reaction. Watched as her normally vacant eyes blinked in wonder as she actually surveyed the transformation, a smile breaking out on her serious face as Matilda flicked on a switch and the water features danced into life. It was like seeing the sun come out as a tiny gasp of wonder escaped Alex’s lips. She moved forward, reached out and ran, ran as most children would have, but because it was Alex it was amazing.
‘I think she likes it.’ She could forgive Hugh’s stilted words, because tears were running down his cheeks as he watched his granddaughter run through the water jets, and for that moment in time Matilda decided that the pain she’d endured had been worth it. To see this distant, reclusive child emerge from her shell, even if only for a moment, that her vision, her concept had actually reached this troubled, fractured child caused something good and pure to well deep inside her. Matilda’s usual happiness, which had been stifled since Dante’s rejection, bubbled to the surface again as she witnessed her work through the eyes of a child.
A child like Alex.
‘Look!’ Matilda’s voice was an excited whisper. She crouched to Alex’s level, as she had on the first day, taking her cautious hand as she had back then and beckoning Alex to new wonders as Katrina and Hugh wandered around to explore. ‘Look what’s here!’ Parting the curtain of willow, Matilda led her inside the cool enclosure, the fairy-lights she had so carefully placed lighting the darkness and creating a cool, emerald oasis, an enchanted garden within a garden, a place for Alex to simply just be. But the innocent pleasure of the moment was broken as the leaves parted, as Dante stepped into the magical space and completely broke the spell.
‘You could put engravings on the bark.’ Matilda’s voice was a monotone now as she addressed Dante, talking like a salesperson delivering her pitch. ‘Or hang some mirrors and pictures, perhaps put down a blanket and have a crib for her dolls…’
‘She loves it,’ Dante broke in, the emotion that was usually so absent in his voice rolling in the distance as he sat down on the mossy ground, watching as his daughter stared up at the twinkling lights, her hands held in the air, fingers dancing along with them. ‘It is the first time I have seen her happy in a long time.’
‘Not so bad for a stupido garden?’ Matilda said, and if she sounded bitter, she was: bitter for the way he had treated her; bitter for all they had lost. But because Alex was present, Matilda swallowed her resentment down, instead giving Dante the information he would need if the garden she had planted was to flourish. ‘I’ve just got to clean up and attend to a few minor details tomorrow, but I’ll be gone by lunchtime.’
‘By lunchtime?’ There was a tiny start to his voice, a frown creeping across his brow, which Matilda chose to ignore. ‘I probably won’t catch up with you tomorrow, but I’ll write up some instructions for your gardener and run through a few things with you now. Know that the whole garden will improve with time.’ Picking at some moss on the ground, Matilda continued, ‘Every day you should see some changes. The paths are littered with wild seeds—buttercups, daisies, clover—so you shouldn’t mow too often…’
‘Matilda?’
‘There are no sharp edges.’ Ignoring him, she continued, trying to get through her summing-up, knowing this was one job she wouldn’t be following up, knowing she was seeing it for the last time. ‘And no plants that can hurt, no thorns that could scratch, nothing that might sting—she should be perfectly safe here. This garden is what you make of it—you could pick marigold leaves with Alex to add to your salad at night—’
‘Matilda, we need to talk,’ he interrupted again, one hand creeping across the ground to capture hers. But she pulled away, determined to see this last bit through with whatever dignity she could muster, yet unable to stop herself from looking at him for what was surely going to be the last time. Her final instructions to him were laced with double meaning, littered with innuendo, and from Dante’s tense expression she knew he felt each one.
‘No, Dante, you need to listen. This garden may look beautiful now, but tomorrow when I’ve cleaned up and gone, you’ll come for another look and see its apparent faults. Tomorrow, in the cold light of day, you’ll wonder what the hell you paid all this money for, because the lights won’t be on and the bushes will look a bit smaller and sparser than they do tonight. You’ll see all the lines where the turf was laid and the sticks holding up the plants and—’
‘It will still be beautiful to me,’ Dante interrupted. ‘Because it’s already given me more pleasure than I ever thought possible.’ And, yes, he was talking about Alex, because his hands were gesturing to where his daughter sat, but his eyes were holding hers as he spoke and she knew that he was also referring to them. ‘Yes, it might just take a bit of getting used to, but I can understand now that in the end it would be worth it…’ She stared back at him for the longest time, swallowing hard as he went on. ‘That if I nurture it, care for it, tend it…’ With each word he tempted her, delivering his veiled apology in a low silken drawl. ‘Then it will reward me tenfold.’
‘It would have,’ Matilda said softly, watching his wince of regret at her refusal to accept it, actually grateful when Katrina and Hugh ducked inside the emerald canopy and broke the painful moment, because whatever Dante was trying to say it was too little, too late—even a garden full of flowers wasn’t going to fix this.
‘Join us for a drink,’ Hugh offered. ‘Dante’s just about to put Alex to bed…’
‘I’ve got too much to do here.’ Matilda smiled as she shook her head. ‘But thank you for the offer.’
‘I think we might have to stay over.’ Katrina pretended to grimace. ‘Hugh’s had a couple too many champagnes to drive.’
‘I’ve had one,’ Hugh said, but Katrina had clearly already made up her mind. Matilda was tempted to tell her that she needn’t bother, that Dante didn’t need to be guarded on her final night here, but instead she offered her goodnights and headed to the mountain of tools that needed to be sorted.
‘You really ought to think about finishing up,’ Dante called. ‘There’s a storm brewing and with all these cables and everything it could be hazardous.’
She didn’t even deign a response, grateful when they left, when finally the garden gate closed and she was alone.
Despite her utter exhaustion, working a sixteen-hour day, when finally Matilda showered and fell into bed, sleep evaded her, the body Dante had awoken then tossed aside twitching with treacherous desire. Lying in the darkness, she gazed out over the bay, watching the dark clouds gathering in the distance, the ominous view matching her mood as she listened to the talking and laughter coming from the garden below. Katrina’s grating voice telling tales about the wonderful Jasmine did nothing to soothe her and she wished over and over that she’d managed to avoid Dante tonight.
Reluctantly she replayed his words in her mind. With total recall she remembered the look on his face as he had spoken to her, and she knew that she’d almost forgiven him, that had he touched her, she’d have gone to him.
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