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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
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.’
‘Arrivederci,’ she answered. ‘Goodnight.’
Tess waited only until he’d stepped out of the gallery before shutting and locking the door behind him. Then, leaning back against it, she blew out a relieved breath. What a day, she thought. First Castelli, and then Silvio. She would be glad to get back to the apartment. At least there she could be reasonably sure she wouldn’t be disturbed. Unless Ashley had some other secret she hadn’t bothered to share with her sister, that was.
She slept badly, having only picked at the salad she’d prepared for herself. She kept thinking she could hear a phone ringing, but it was only the wind chimes hanging on the balcony outside the bedroom window.
In the event, she dropped into a fitful slumber just before dawn and when she woke again it was daylight and the sun was filtering through the blinds.
After putting on a pot of coffee, she went and took a shower in the tiny bathroom. The water was never hot, but for once she appreciated its lukewarm spray. She even turned the tap to cold before stepping out and wrapping herself in one of the skimpy towels Ashley had provided.
After pouring herself a delicious mug of black coffee, she stepped out onto the tiny balcony. The world looked a little less hostile this morning, she thought. But that was ridiculous, really. It was people who were hostile, not the world in general. And if anyone was to blame for her present situation, it was Ashley.
Her sister’s apartment was on the top floor of a villa in the Via San Giovanni. The road was one of several that climbed the hill above the harbour, and, although the building was rather unprepossessing on the outside, at least its halls and stairways were clean and didn’t smell of the onions and garlic that so many old buildings did.
Ashley’s apartment was fairly spartan, but it was comfortable enough. She had added rugs and throws and pretty curtains at the narrow windows, and Tess had been pleasantly surprised to find it had a separate bedroom and bathroon as well as a living-room-cum-kitchen with modern appliances.
Now as she leaned on the balcony rail she amended the feelings of betrayal she had had the night before. Okay, Ashley had lied to her—had lied to all of them—but from Tess’s point of view nothing had really changed. She was still filling in at the gallery and she had only herself to blame if she didn’t enjoy the novelty of a break in such beautiful surroundings.
But it was hard not to wonder what Ashley was doing. Getting involved with a teenager seemed crazy, even by her sister’s standards. Yet Ashley had always been a law unto herself. Tess could remember her father grumbling about his younger daughter’s antics on one of his infrequent visits to Derbyshire to see her. He and his new family had still lived in London, but Tess had moved away when she’d become a teacher. It had been easier not to have to make excuses for not visiting her family as often as her father would have liked.
Realising her mug was empty now and that she was just wasting time, Tess turned back into the bedroom. Shedding the towel onto the rail in the bathroom, she walked naked into the bedroom again to find something suitable to wear.
Ignoring the suspicion that Raphael di Castelli’s visit the previous day was influencing her, she chose a cream chemise dress that was spotted with sprigs of lavender. It was long, as her skirt had been, but she chose canvas loafers instead of the boots she’d worn the day before.
Her hair had dried in the sunshine and she surveyed its wisps and curls with a resigned eye. Some women might appreciate its youthful ingenuousness, but she didn’t. She should have left it long, she thought gloomily. At least then she could have swept it up on top of her head.
Shrugging off these thoughts, she rinsed her coffee mug, left it on the drainer, and exited the apartment. Three flights of stone stairs led down to the ground floor and she emerged into the warm air with a growing feeling of well-being. She wasn’t going to let Ashley—or Castelli—spoil her holiday, she decided. She had a good mind to shut the gallery early and spend the latter half of the afternoon on the beach.
Ashley’s little Renault was parked a few metres down from the apartment building and it took some patience to extricate it from between a badly parked Fiat and a bulky van. It didn’t help that she had to keep control of the vehicle by using the handbrake, the steep slope of the road making any kind of manoeuvre an act of faith.
She managed to regain her composure driving down to the gallery. Tumbling blossoms on sun-baked walls, red-and ochre-tiled roofs dropping away towards the waterfront, buildings that seemed to be crammed so closely together, there didn’t seem to be room for anything between. But there were gardens lush with greenery, fruit trees espaliered against crumbling brickwork. And the sensual fragrance of lilies and roses and jasmine, mingling with the aromas from the bakery on the corner.
The phone was ringing when she let herself into the gallery. Ashley, she thought eagerly, hurriedly turning off the alarm as she went to answer it. ‘Hello?’
‘Teresa?’ Her spirits dropped. She should have known. It was Ashley’s mother again. ‘Teresa, where have you been? I’ve been trying the apartment but you weren’t there.’
‘I expect I was on my way down here,’ said Tess, adopting a pleasant tone even though she felt like screaming. Then, with sudden optimism, ‘Have you heard from Ashley?’
‘No.’ The clipped word conveyed it all, both distress and impatience. ‘Have you?’
‘If I had I’d have let you know,’ said Tess flatly, and heard Andrea inhale a sharp breath.
