101 Pieces of Me (25 page)

“And what is the signorina doing in Castiglioncello?” Stefano asked, still caressing my hand.

“Learning Italian, and keeping house for Aidan,” I replied.

Stefano’s gaze travelled lazily to Aidan. “Keeping house? So that is what they’re calling it these days, is it?”

“Stefano!” chided Aidan. “Sarah is my cousin, remember. And she’s very young. This is her first trip away from her parents.”

Stefano’s dark eyes were still fixed on me. I could not look at Aidan, but his words had hinted that he expected me to put the next stage of our plan into action. “I may be young,” I said to Stefano, hoping my expression was as innocent as I intended, “but Aidan is so old-fashioned, he treats me as if I were a child. You are not old-fashioned, are you, Stef?”

His face relaxed, though he did not quite smile, and he looked down at me benevolently. “That depends on what you mean by old-fashioned. I suppose I am old-fashioned in that I believe an exquisite little thing like you should be with a man who appreciates her.” The expression in his eyes intensified, and he lowered his face towards mine. “It must be lonely for you when Aidan is working. Will you allow me to show you our little town of Castiglioncello? And perhaps we could have a drive to the countryside?”

“That would be lovely,” I said appreciatively. “You are very kind.”

He turned to Aidan. “You do not object to that, do you?”

“Not at all,” replied Aidan lightly. “I would rather Sarah were with you than some stranger.”

Stefano smiled widely and bowed, and at that moment Paulo arrived with the champagne. When we had taken sips and made approving noises, Aidan again took up the conversation. “Oh, Stef,” he said, as if it had just occurred to him, “there’s someone I’d love to introduce to Sarah, and I think he’s one of Gio’s set. Do you know if David Penn is here?”

S
tefano was surprised. “But I understood you and David Penn are not on good terms, since…” Not being sure how much
la cugina
knew, he had to content himself with a meaningful glance at Aidan.

“Quite right. We got into a fight,” said Aidan, his glass at his lips. “It was hilarious, actually.”

Stefano looked unconvinced, so I laid my hand on his arm. “It’s all right, Stef, they won’t attack each other in your father’s house, and actually, I’m dying to meet David Penn.”

“I believe he has been invited tonight.” Stefano’s smile was forced. “Perhaps we shall run across him this evening. Will you dance, signorina?”

“I’d love to.” I nudged Aidan. “Come on, slowcoach, ask one of these girls!”

But Aidan had extracted the information he wanted. “Actually, I think I’ll go and seek out Gio. Are there canapés on the terrace?”

“Aidan, you’re being very boring!” I told him.

Stefano was beaming. “If you would rather eat canapés and speak to my father than dance with a beautiful girl, that is up to you,” he said to Aidan, “but I cannot understand it.” He took the champagne glass from my fingers, set it down and held out his arm. “Now, my dear Sarah, I’m sure you know this American dance, the Charleston?”

He soon discovered I was not a practised dancer, so he gave up trying to do the Charleston or any other dance, and merely held me close and steered me backwards between the other couples. I allowed him to put his cheek close to mine and whisper in Italian for a few minutes. Then, when I judged he was off his guard, I raised my voice above the music. “I do wish Aidan were more adventurous, don’t you?”

Stefano spoke carefully, as if choosing his words. “He was pretty adventurous when we were at school, you know. I don’t know how many times I got into trouble because of him.”

“What did he do?”

“Oh, smoking, drinking, going to places that were out of bounds.”

I laughed, “Well, he still does that! The smoking and the drinking, I mean. But for someone who works in such a glamorous business, he’s so
dull
. Did you know he absolutely refuses to take cocaine even though everyone he knows does? I said I bet he could get some from someone on his film – I’d love to try it – but he refused, and he was so grumpy, Stef. I sometimes think he just doesn’t want to have fun.”

We danced in silence while Stefano pondered this. My heart was fluttering a little. This was the part of what Aidan and I had planned that was most likely to go wrong. And Aidan was not here to help me or give me cues.

“Perhaps Aidan is conscious of your parents’ disapproval. You are, as he has told me, very young.”

“I’m eighteen!” I exclaimed. “And even if my mother does think things like champagne and cocaine the work of the devil, she’s in England, and we’re here!”

“What do you know about cocaine?” he asked. He was smiling, but his eyes were wary.

“People take it to give themselves a kick, don’t they? Aidan says David Penn takes it. Is that true? I would
love
to know what that kick feels like.”

“And you are not afraid to try it?”

I looked straight at him. “No, not at all.”

W
e danced until we were hot, then Stefano suggested we go out onto the terrace to get some air. “And some more champagne, of course,” he added.

“And canapés?”

“Naturally, if Aidan has not eaten them all.”

The terrace, lit by strings of lanterns, was high above the bay. Stefano took two glasses from a passing waiter’s tray and led me to the parapet. Far below, the lights of Castiglioncello followed the coast like a diamond necklace. I breathed the warm air and smiled at Stefano over the rim of my wineglass. “This place is so beautiful! How lucky you are to live here!”

He did not reply, but leaned against a pillar and looked into my face. “Are you absolutely sure you wish to be a teacher?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“But you are unlike any teacher I have ever known. Exquisitely beautiful, as perfect as a china doll, and happy to embrace new experiences such as … your mother would disapprove of, shall we say?”

“My mother,” I assured him loftily, “knows very little about me!”

“In truth, I am a little surprised she allowed you to come to Castiglioncello with Aidan at all.”

“Oh, don’t be!” I told him. “He is her favourite nephew!”

There was a sudden clatter. Stefano looked round, then back at me, half-smiling. “Speaking of her favourite nephew…”

Aidan was being helped up. As he fell he had taken a tablecloth with him, spilling loaded platters and a bowl of punch on the stone floor of the terrace. In the flurry of scurrying waiters and exclaiming guests that followed, Aidan’s voice could be heard protesting that he was perfectly all right, that everyone should just carry on, though he felt a bit strange, must be too much champagne, and maybe he had better go.

“Stef, my good fellow!” he cried as we approached. “Will you take care of Sarah? Put her in a car after the party?” He leaned against the wreck of the table, breathing noisily. “I feel a bit peculiar.” He loosened his tie. “Seems warmer out here than it did indoors.”

I felt his forehead. “Aidan, you’re terribly hot! You must be ill. Come on, let’s go home.”

“Not at all, wouldn’t dream of it. You stay here with Stef and have a good time. One of Gio’s people will take me back.”

“Are you sure?”

“Quite sure.” He smiled wanly. “You two enjoy yourselves, won’t you? Now, where’s Paolo?”

T
he party went on while the night grew darker and darker, until the villa resembled a bright planet in a void of blackness. Below, the lights of the town gradually went out; above, there was no more than a sliver of moon. My headache increased to such an agonizing level that I could no longer concentrate on anything but the pain. Apprehension, energetic dancing and several glasses of champagne made me feel as if I were floating – not in a relaxed way, as one does just prior to sleep, but precariously, on something shifting. My limbs seemed separated from my body, and my brain from my head. And still, even though hours passed and people came and went to and from the ballroom and the terrace, David Penn did not appear.

I did not know what to do. If the party broke up before I managed to see him, it might be a long time before Aidan and I would have such an opportunity again. I tried to gather my wits and make an alternative plan, but in the end I sat down on a velvet-covered chair and allowed my head to fall forwards. I felt defeated.

“I am having a wonderful time, Stefano,” I told him, “but I have such a headache! Do you think the party will go on much longer?”

“That depends on what you mean by the party.” He surveyed the remaining guests. “Most of these people will go home in the next hour, but some of us – perhaps you wish to join us? – will make a night of it.”

“Do you mean stay up all night?” I knew it was important that Aidan had pretended to be ill so that he could leave me here alone, but at the same time I wished he had not. I wished I could go home, take some aspirin and go to sleep. But I had to act my part. I raised my head. “Oh, how exciting! Shall we watch the sun come up?”

“If you like.” Stefano scanned the room again, perhaps looking for a particular person. “Now, if you have a headache, don’t you think we should get away from this noise? Let’s go and see who’s in the garden.”

He led me through an arched doorway and down some marble steps. We crossed a courtyard with an ornamental fountain in the middle, to a terraced garden with immaculate lawns. The air was warm; people had brought lanterns from the house and hung them in the trees. Their meagre light revealed a different party altogether. The company was mostly composed of men, but there were a few women sitting on the men’s laps or on the grass at their feet. Dance music was playing quite loudly, though the band had departed by now. I guessed it must be coming from a gramophone somewhere. One couple was dancing, frantically, ahead of the music. They looked almost manic, the girl shaking her head so violently that her feathered headdress had slipped over one eye. Neither she nor her partner seemed to notice.

Empty glasses and cigarette stubs lay on the lawn. Some people were smoking, and some were doing what looked to me like taking snuff. But the substance before them was not brown, and they did not put it on their hand and apply it to each nostril. It was a white powder, like finely ground sugar, and they sniffed it up their noses by means of tubes of paper.

My heart drummed, worsening my headache. Stefano had brought me out here to join the guests who were going to “make a night of it”. Wealthy people looking for a new plaything. People who took cocaine. And then my heart almost stopped. I saw the back of his head – recently barbered, blond – and the instantly identifiable curve of his neck and shoulders. But I was not afraid. In fact, I was excited. At last. At last, David.