Not Just a Convenient Marriage (3 page)

‘It’s almost as though Venice has two different personalities,’ she said. ‘So quiet and gentle at one end of this little stretch of water, so exuberant at the other end.’

‘You’re right. But it’s not just two different personalities. A dozen, perhaps a hundred.’ He shepherded her back into the room, adding teasingly, ‘Like the English, really.’

‘You obviously think you know a lot about the English.’

He showed her back to her chair, and sat beside her. Suddenly he was no longer joking.

‘I know I like them,’ he said quietly. ‘My first wife came from your country, and I see her in Pietro. It’s a side of him that I encourage.’

‘Is that why he speaks my language?’

‘Yes, I’ve raised him to be bilingual.’

‘He must be very bright to speak it so well while he’s so young. He’s a lovely child.’

‘Yes, he is. There’s something I want to say to you. Thank you for making him
so happy. It means a lot to me to see him laughing and playing as he’s done today.’

‘Doesn’t he do so often?’

‘Sometimes he seems merry, but it never lasts very long. He’s haunted by the feeling that two mothers abandoned him. As I mentioned earlier, his real mother died before he could know her. His stepmother simply left him.’

‘Poor little soul,’ Sally murmured. ‘Does she never contact him at all?’

‘Never. She said that he would be better off if she was completely out of his life. But it was just for her own convenience, not for Pietro’s sake. She never loved him. He has only me.’

‘And he’s everything to you, isn’t he?’

‘Yes. Both for his own sake and because—’ His voice died.

‘Because of his mother?’ she urged gently.

He nodded.

‘Because of Gina,’ he said quietly. ‘We had such a little time together.
Pietro was born a month prematurely. It killed Gina and the baby himself nearly didn’t survive. In her last hours Gina was wild with terror, fearing for him. She had no thought for her own danger, only his. I held her in my arms, begging her not to leave me, but I knew it was useless. She was being snatched away by a power beyond her control, and only her baby mattered. So I swore to her that I would care for him and protect him all the rest of my life. Nothing would matter but his happiness.’

Sally had a strange feeling that the world had changed. Even the universe. This city, which was like nowhere else, might be the answer, but she sensed something more. The man sitting close by, talking in a soft voice, had been known to her for only a few hours. Yet he was confiding in her in a way that said she was not a stranger, but someone to whom he felt close, because that was what he wanted to feel.

She tried to tell herself to be sensible, but common sense had gone into hiding.

‘Did your promise comfort her?’ she asked.

‘I thought so. She whispered, “God bless you,” so perhaps it did for a brief moment. Then—she tried to say something else. But she choked and couldn’t speak. In her last few moments she was desperate to tell me something, but she died before she could say the words. Now I’ll wonder all my days what she wanted to say that was so important.’

‘But surely, in your heart you know what it was,’ Sally said. ‘She wanted to say that she loved you. It couldn’t be anything else but that.’

He raised his head and she saw in his eyes a smile that made her heart turn over. There was a warmth in it that felt as though he was reaching out and touching her, enveloping her in some feeling she’d never known before: a feeling that she wanted to know for ever.

‘I think,’ he said softly, ‘that you must be the kindest person in the world.’

‘No,’ she said, suddenly self-conscious at the strength of her own feelings.

‘Don’t tell me that you’re not kind. I wouldn’t believe it.’

‘You don’t really know me.’

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I do. I knew you as soon as we met in the Piazza San Marco.’

The air was singing about her ears and she was at a loss for an answer. Part of her had the same feeling, that she knew him as though they had been acquainted for ever. But another part said exactly the opposite: that here was a man of mystery and contradictions; that she might know him all her life, yet never understand the first thing about him.

Somewhere in the back of her mind a voice was whispering that it might be intriguing to follow that path, seeking the man he really was, perhaps finding him, and then—

Abruptly she closed off the thought, wondering what possessed her to give it even a moment. Soon they would say goodbye and he would cease to exist. Which would surely be a good thing.

Her next words seemed to come of their own accord, without any conscious decision.

‘You think you know me,’ she said, ‘but I don’t even know myself. I often believe I do, but then I discover I was wrong.’

He smiled.

‘Most of us could say the same. I’m convinced you’ve come to the right place. I promised Pietro that you would visit us again, which was rather impolite of me without asking you first—’

‘I forgive you,’ she said with a smile. ‘You couldn’t have asked me first, in front of him.’

‘Thank you. You’re a lady of great understanding. So when you come for your next visit we’ll spend a little time together and—who knows? I may manage to introduce you to yourself.’

There was a hint of teasing in his voice, but also a hint of temptation, leaving her free to choose which one to follow.

But it was an impossible choice; one she didn’t feel ready to make.

Her reverie was interrupted by the sound of bells from the clock tower in St Mark’s.

‘Goodness, is that the time?’ she said, checking her watch. ‘I had no idea it was so late.’

‘Yes, time can slip past when you’re thinking of other things,’ Damiano agreed quietly.

Suddenly there was a noise overhead. They both tensed with surprise, and looked up to find Pietro looking down at them from an upstairs window.

‘Hello,’ he said.

‘You should be in bed,’ Damiano told him in an unsteady voice.

‘I wanted to see Sally,’ he said cheekily. ‘Are you all right, Sally? Is Papa looking after you properly?’

‘He’s doing his best,’ she said in a voice that was also a little unsteady. ‘But it’s time I was going home.’

‘I’ll call my driver,’ Damiano said. ‘We’ll take you back to your hotel.’ He took out his cell phone and said a few words in Italian.

‘He’ll be here in a couple of minutes,’ he said when he’d hung up.

Sally raised her head, meaning to say goodbye to Pietro, but to her surprise he’d vanished and his window was closed.

They collected Charlie and the three of them headed for the door, where a surprise awaited them. Pietro stood there, fully dressed.

So that was why he’d backed away from his window so quickly, Sally thought.

‘What are you doing here?’ Damiano demanded. ‘You’re supposed to be in bed.’

‘But we’re going to take Sally home,’ Pietro said. ‘We’re her friends. We should all go with her.’

‘Very well,’ Damiano conceded, opening the door. As Sally passed him he murmured, ‘At least my son has manners. He likes you so much he wants to be the perfect host.’

‘Oh, come on,’ she chuckled. ‘When you were his age, didn’t you seize any chance to stay up late?’

‘Yes, I suppose that’s it. All right, let’s get going.’

He helped her into the motor boat. Charlie and Pietro got in, and they began the journey down the narrow waterway into the Grand Canal. At this time of night it was still brilliantly lit, and music floated towards them from a distance. It felt like drifting through another world.

Part of her regretted leaving at this moment. Part of her was glad. It had been a relief to avoid facing the question that was teasing her. Damiano had spoken of introducing her to her real self. If she’d had to answer him—what would she have said?

She had no idea.

CHAPTER THREE

A
T
LAST
THE
Billioni appeared. The boat came to a halt and Damiano helped her out. As they entered the hotel the receptionist became alert and respectful, responding to his gesture indicating that he wanted her complete attention.

So he really is the owner, Sally thought.

Suddenly she heard Charlie mutter, ‘Oh, heavens! How did that happen?’

‘How did what happen?’ she asked, looking around.

Then she saw what had alarmed him. Through an open door she could just see into a room where there was a man whose face she recognised with alarm. He was in his thirties, sloppily dressed, unshaven, with dark hair that looked as though he didn’t bother to comb it. She didn’t know his name but she’d seen him lurking around their home in England, and knew that he was bad news.

‘Charlie, who is he? Charlie? Charlie, where are you?’

But he’d slipped away. Damiano was still engaged in conversation, so she headed for the door to confront the man.

‘I’ve seen you before,’ she said. ‘In England.’

‘Yes, I’m Ken Wilton and I’m looking for that brother of yours. Where is he?’

‘Why do you want him?’

‘Why do you think? He ran off owing me a lot of money, and I want it now.’

Her worst fears were realised, but she set her chin and faced him.

‘Charlie paid all his debts. I know that.’

‘You think that,’ he sneered. ‘I guess you gave him some money, huh?’

‘Yes. More than enough to pay what he owed.’

‘Is that what he told you? Well, I’m telling you that there’s a much bigger debt come to light, and I’m here to collect. Otherwise there’ll be trouble. So you’d better go and get him. He knows who I am.’

‘I’ll do no such thing. I don’t believe he owes you anything.’

He moved closer to her.

‘Really?’ he sneered. ‘I wonder just how sure you are of that, and how long it might take to change your mind.’

Sally tried to turn away from him, but he took her arm in a ruthless grip. ‘Where’s your brother?’ he said.

With a great effort she managed to wriggle free but he came after her and struck her, causing her to fall. A sharp pain went through her head as it hit the wall.

She heard a voice screaming
,
‘Sally!
Sally!
’

Suddenly Pietro was on his knees beside her, trying to take her into his arms. Then a man’s voice cried out her name again and Damiano appeared in the doorway. The next moment her attacker had rushed to the window and dived out. They heard a splash as he landed in the water outside.

Damiano dashed to the window, glanced out, then looked back at Sally on the floor. A porter had followed them in, lured by the noise. Damiano barked some orders at him, then came to kneel beside Sally, drawing her up so that his arms supported her.

‘What did he do to you?’ he groaned.

‘He knocked her down,’ Pietro wailed. ‘I heard him yelling and then he hit her. Oh, Sally, please don’t die.’

Tears were pouring down his face. Through her pain and confusion one thing stood out for Sally—Pietro must be protected from the horror of what he’d seen...

‘I’m all right, Pietro,’ she said. ‘Truly. Just a little bump.’

‘We’ll see what the doctor has to say about that,’ Damiano said. ‘I’m taking you home with me. You can’t stay here in case that ruffian returns.’

‘It’s Charlie he’s after,’ she murmured.
‘Charlie—’

‘I’m here,’ he said, appearing. ‘He’s got away. They couldn’t catch him.’

‘Then the sooner we leave, the better,’ Damiano said.

He rose, drawing Sally gently to her feet, then lifting her in his arms.

‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘You’re coming with me and you’re going to be safe.’

‘He’s after Charlie—’ she whispered.

‘He’ll be safe too. You have my word on it. Trust me.’

All her instincts agreed, and she found herself relaxing in his arms as he carried her out, pausing only to bark some more orders at the receptionist.

‘They’ll pack up your things and send them after us,’ he told her.

‘My bill—’

‘Taken care of. Don’t worry about anything.’

Her head was aching and she could do nothing but rest it against his shoulder and yield everything up to him. She felt herself being lowered into the motorboat, Damiano sitting beside her with Charlie and Pietro facing. As they swept away Damiano made another call on his cell phone.

‘The doctor will be there when we arrive,’ he said when he’d hung up. ‘Here.’ He handed the phone to Pietro. ‘Call Nora, tell her to have two rooms ready.’

Pietro did as he was told. Sally couldn’t understand the Italian words, but she sensed the tension in his voice. When he finished he spoke urgently to Sally.

‘She’s getting everything ready. We’re going to look after you.’

‘Thank you,’ she whispered, reaching out to take his hand. The little boy’s concern touched her heart.

As Damiano had said, the doctor was there before them. Damiano carried her upstairs to the room that would be hers, laid her down on the bed, then stood back to watch.

The doctor declared that the bump on her head wasn’t serious, but a few days’ rest would do her good.

‘She’ll get everything she wants here,’ Damiano said. ‘I’d like you to come again tomorrow.’

‘Certainly. I brought some painkillers with me, and she should take some now. Then rest and good food is what she needs.’

‘She will be all right, won’t she?’ Pietro asked anxiously. ‘She isn’t going to die?’

‘Definitely not,’ the doctor said kindly. ‘She just needs to take it easy.’

Pietro gave a brief smile but his air was still one of anxiety. Sally reached for him.

‘I’m stronger than I look,’ she assured him. ‘Don’t worry about me.’

His reply was to throw himself into her arms.

‘Steady, don’t shake her,’ Damiano protested.

‘It’s all right,’ she hastened to say. ‘He isn’t hurting me.’

Nora brought in some water, which Sally used to take the painkillers. Then the men departed while Nora tucked her under the duvet. Whether it was the pills or the shock of the evening’s events, Sally began to feel drowsy, and soon the world drifted away.

She awoke to find Damiano sitting by the bed, watching her.

‘How are you feeling?’ he asked.

‘Better. My head isn’t hurting. I’m sorry to give you so much trouble.’

‘Don’t talk nonsense,’ he said, speaking with a gentleness that contrasted with his words. ‘You are no trouble.’ He indicated some bags on the floor. ‘Your things have arrived, so you can unpack soon.’

‘My bill—’

‘I told you not to worry about that. You were attacked in my hotel. That’s my responsibility and the least I can do is wipe out your bill, and Charlie’s. Don’t mention it again.’

‘But that man—Wilton—what happened to him?’

‘He escaped, which may be a good thing. Otherwise the police would have become involved and you’d have found it distressing. The hotel security staff will find him.’

‘But how will they know what he looks like?’

‘They’ll know his appearance from the camera outside the front door that records the face of every visitor,’ Damiano said. ‘They’ll track him down and persuade him not to trouble you again.’

She didn’t ask what ‘persuade him’ meant. This man would have his own methods of persuasion that would probably make her shudder. She found that she could no longer fight off the horror. Tremors afflicted her, and she clenched her fists, struggling to stay calm.

‘Come here,’ Damiano said.

The next moment his arms were around her, enfolding her in warmth and comfort.

‘It’s all right,’ he murmured. ‘Hold onto me. I’m going to look after you.’

She believed him. The feeling of safety seemed to envelop her, warming her heart and her flesh in a way she had never known before. She clung to him, letting her head rest on his shoulder, wishing it could stay there for ever.

For several minutes neither of them moved. Then he lowered her gently onto the pillow.

‘I want to understand everything,’ he said. ‘Getting rid of that lout was just the start. What else do you need me to do?’

She hesitated, glad to feel his strength and support, but uncertain whether she should tell him any more about Charlie.

‘You’ve done enough—’ she began.

‘That’s for me to say,’ he replied in a voice that was quiet but brooked no argument. ‘I want to know what lies behind this, and you’re going to tell me.’

She sighed.

‘I know I’m safe, but Charlie isn’t. Wilton was after him, and I don’t think he’ll give up.’

‘I promise you, he will when I’ve finished with him,’ Damiano said.

‘Where is Charlie now?’

‘Safely settled in the room next to you. Tell me about him. Once before you implied that he’s irresponsible, even for his age.’

‘He doesn’t mean any harm, but he’s young and he doesn’t think things through. He gambles a lot, and loses.’

‘And guess who has to pay up to get him out of trouble,’ Damiano said wryly.

‘I suppose I shouldn’t, but I find it so hard to refuse him.’

‘Even though you must know you’re not doing him any favours in the long term. He’s never going to learn better as long as he gets away with it.’

‘I know,’ she said wretchedly, ‘but there’s no one to protect him, and that’s my fault.’

‘I don’t believe that. Stop putting yourself down.’

‘Seven years ago I was knocked down in the road. My parents set out to drive to the hospital. A lorry crashed into their car and they both died.’

‘And you blame yourself for that?’ he demanded. ‘Surely it wasn’t your fault that you were injured?’

‘No, but if it hadn’t been for me they wouldn’t have been on the road and an eleven-year-old boy wouldn’t have been left an orphan. Since then I’ve been the only family he has.’

‘How old were you at the time?’

‘Twenty-one.’

‘Just twenty-one, and your life was taken away from you.’

‘No—no, not really. People expect to make sacrifices for the ones they love.’

‘But they don’t expect to live in a prison. Isn’t that your life? Behind bars, with Charlie’s needs holding the key?’

It was true. She’d never faced it before, but Damiano saw everything.

‘But you’re the same,’ she said. ‘You build your life around Pietro’s needs.’

‘A father expects to do that for his son. But a sister is entitled to a life of her own. One day he’ll have grown up enough to go his own way, and you’ll be left stranded in a desert. No husband, no lover, no children.’

‘But I have my career. I’ll always have that. When he finally leaves me I won’t be in that desert.’

‘You will if your career is all you have.’

‘But what can I do? He needs me, but I can’t make him understand. I beg him to be careful, and responsible, but he just thinks I’m making a fuss about nothing.’

‘As lads of that age often do,’ he agreed.

‘I can’t just abandon him.’

‘But can you defend him? When men like that come calling can you drive them off?’

She shook her head. ‘No, I guess I can’t.’ She gave him an ironic smile. ‘If you ever want a job as a bodyguard I’ve got a vacancy.’

‘I’ll remember that,’ he said, returning the smile. ‘But when you return to England, and Wilton pursues you again—’

‘Don’t, don’t!’ she cried. ‘My head’s spinning. I don’t know which way to turn.’

‘Perhaps fate will show you.’

She shook her head. ‘That’s a nice thought, but you can’t rely on fate. You have to fix things for yourself. Only I don’t know how.’

‘But perhaps fate does know how. Just be patient and see what happens. Now it’s time for you to eat something. Nora has prepared you a meal, and Pietro is going to bring it in. He’s determined to stay awake and be one of your attendants. You won’t mind having him fuss over you, will you?’

‘No, of course not. It was terrible for him to see what happened. I know it upset him, and if looking after me helps him cope with it, I’ll be very glad.’

‘Thank you. I knew you’d understand.’

The door opened a crack and Charlie’s face appeared. ‘Can I come in?’

He came to the bed and hugged her. ‘Sorry, sis. I just seem to land you in it, don’t I?’

‘Don’t flatter yourself,’ she told him in the chivvying tone she often used with him. ‘There’s nothing about you that I can’t cope with.’

‘I’m sorry. If it wasn’t for me—’

‘If it wasn’t for you I’d be lonely. Don’t blame yourself, Charlie.’

‘Perhaps I should. Perhaps you should just dump me—’

‘And leave you at that man’s mercy? Get real. Grow up. We’re going to do this my way.’

He gave a comically theatrical salute. ‘Yes, ma’am, no, ma’am, three bags full, ma’am.’

She tried to mimic the salute, and winced at the pain in her arm.

‘No more of that,’ Damiano said. ‘You’ve got to rest every part of you until you’re better.’

‘That’s right,’ Charlie said.

He gave her an uneasy smile, which she returned. It was true, as she’d told Damiano, that Charlie was spoilt and self-indulgent. But his nicer side had a disconcerting habit of asserting itself unexpectedly. As he grew more mature, she thought, that side would be even more in evidence.

‘I’ll leave you,’ Charlie said. ‘Take care.’

He kissed her and went to the door. As he opened it they saw Pietro standing there with a plate in his hand. He advanced to the bed and set the plate on a small table.

Nora was there too, with a tray, but this was Pietro’s moment and she stayed in the background.

‘Are you better?’ he asked anxiously.

‘I’m fine.’

‘Truly?
Truly?
’

‘I promise. Oh, that food looks lovely.’

But as she took the first bite she went,
‘Ouch!’

‘What’s the matter?’ Damiano demanded quickly.

‘My mouth, where he hit it. It’s just a bit sensitive. I shall have to eat carefully.’

Luckily the food was soft and she managed well. Pietro didn’t take his eyes off her, and she had a sad awareness of how painful this must be for him, given his history.

While she ate Nora unpacked her bags and put the contents in a chest of drawers. Then Pietro and Nora left them.