One Hot Summer (14 page)

‘
I’m not cross about it, Francesca,’ Jan had said gen
tl
y.
‘
You’re not in trouble. These clothes are not mine. I’d like to know if it is safe, that’s all. Maybe you put it in another room?’

The girl burst into tears and said she’d always been honest, and her mother before her; that if she lost her
job at the villa her family would starve. It took Jan ten precious minutes to stem the flood of tears and denials, and comfort Francesca with a handful of lire.

All the same, that sunny shade of blue
had
hung next to the blazer, and now was not there.

Marco seemed to have put all his troubles aside and to be determined to make the day a happy one. As the boat left the harbour, he began to sing and presently Dino’s voice joined his. Both men sang well, a lilting Neapolitan song with a refrain.

As he sang, Marco’s eyes met Jan’s, and they were laughing. This, she thought with quick delight, is the real Marco. Marco happy, unworried, not laden with the cares of everyday life. If only life could be like this', skimming over the smooth sea and singing
!
I am happy
now,
she reminded herself. This
i
s happening to me, at this minute. Hold it, keep it in the memory. The laughing brown faces, the sparkle of sun on the water, and Marco happy as a boy.

Music when soft voices die,

Vibrates in the memory
...

But this music will have to do a great deal of vibrating, because memory is all I’m going to have of it. She blinked away the traitor tears which came without warning.

‘
Sing again, Marco,’ she begged when the song was over.
‘
Just one more.’

He laughed and shouted to Dino. But Dino shook his head and said the Signore must sing alone now, for the lady. So Marco sang a love song which started happily and ended on a sad note.

‘
We can’t be sad on a day like this,’ he shouted to Dino.
‘
Come on, you lazy creature, cheer the lady up
!’
They sang another duet, a brisk and lively air which had Jan tapping her feet. Then Marco left the boat to the boy and came to sit beside Jan.

‘
Enjoying yourself? I want you to have a good day. I’ve bothered you with my troubles too much, and I’m afraid you’ve found me short-tempered sometimes. If so, I apologise. It isn’t your fault my mother is sick, and my sister has chosen to make this odd demonstration. So if you can forgive me—’

‘
Forgive you? Oh, Marco, you’ve been so thoughtful in so many ways. And I’ve been a bit tiresome at times, I admit. Let’s forgive each other, shall we?’

He looked at her closely, thoughtfully.
‘
So you don’t find me altogether a bear?’

Impulsively, she laid a hand on his.
‘
I find you a good friend and a good singer. This is really fun, and who knows, we may end the day by finding Bianca, too. I feel just a little guilty about your mother, though. Will she be all right alone?’

‘
Dino is taking the boat on to Sorrento, to collect two nuns whom she knows. I telephoned the Mother Superior this morning. The sisters will enjoy the outing, and Mama will be happy playing hostess. They will keep her entertained without talking too much, and make sure she rests. Satisfied?’

‘
Perfectly.’

There was also the question of what was to be done about his mother after Bianca married, but Jan did not ask it. It was not her affair, and Marco was capable of solving the problem in his own way when the time came. Today was to be a day when he relaxed and forgot, for a few hours, all his troubles. He had earned a holiday.

They talked little for the rest of the journey, but their silence was a friendly, companionable one, easy as an old shoe. When they put into the harbour at Capri, he gave Dino orders to fetch them at six, then hurried Jan along the quayside, dodging at top speed through the crowd of tourists.

‘
Where are we going?’ she demanded, breathless
.

‘
To the Blue Grotto, of course. What are those nurses going to say, if you admit to being on Capri and not seeing our grotto? Mind you, it’s much exaggerated in my opinion, but it is definitely a grotto, and undeniably blue. We have to catch the sun at precisely the right angle, which is why—’ He shouted and waved, whereupon a boat just taking off waited a moment for him to swing Jan aboard.

Soon they were chugging along, close in to the steep cliffs of the island, in a flotilla of motorboats carrying excited holidaymakers.
‘
We shall have to queue,’ Marco said gloomily.

Jan did not care. The expedition might last all day, as far as she was concerned. She was with Marco, who seemed happy to be with her, and the day was wonderful, a day of silver and golden lights, of singing and gaiety and pure happiness.

Marco was right. At the entrance to the grotto, the boats had to wait for the smaller boats, as light and unstable as scallop shells, which collected passengers four by four, and disappeared under the low arch of the grotto. But at last their turn came.

'Into the bow,’ Marco ordered. ‘And lie down.’ He followed her deftly, pulled her down low in the rocking boat, and laid his arm across her.
‘
Don’t peek up till I tell you, or you may get a nasty bump on that attractive head of yours.’

The boatman pulled his craft along by a dripping iron chain overhead, and then, suddenly, they were in complete darkness.
‘
Wait, now,’ Marco breathed in her ear. His breath moved her hair. To be so close to him, to be held so tightly, crouched low in this cockleshell, made her heart thump so hard that she feared he might hear it.

Then someone started singing, and the sound echoed round the cavern.
‘
I can’t see a thing,’ Jan whispered.

She felt rather than heard him chuckle. ‘Now
look
!’

They had turned to face the exit, and now at last she saw the breathtaking cerulean blue as the sun struck into the cave and lit the seemingly bottomless water, which danced with the movement of the boat.

‘Oh, it’s lovely, lovely!’ she breathed.

He kissed her ear.
‘
So are you! Today suits you. You’re wearing it like a new dress.’ He chuckled again, and she knew the kiss meant nothing, only the irresistible temptation to kiss any fairly attractive girl when one’s arm was round her, one’s lips an inch from her ear. One did not attach importance to the odd kiss now and again, a light and delicate touch at a moment of special loveliness.

All too soon, the tiny boat emerged into full sunlight and made its way back to the parent craft.
‘
How on earth do they remember which one?’ Jan wondered.
‘
There must be a hundred people here.’

And at least half the girls, she decided, had been kissed there in the convenient darkness of the grotto. It is probably a tradition, and unlucky the girl who doesn’t find an arm round her, and a kiss for good measure. Well, I don’t care. It is one more thing to remember. One more treasure in my jewel box.

One thing making it harder to forget Marco, she reminded herself sternly. One more thorn to pierce your heart, you fool!

Back at the harbour, Marco took a taxi up to the old town of Capri, and found a table at the restaurant in the tiny piazza.
‘
A pistachio ice, if I remember correctly? A large one, as it isn’t nearly time for lunch.’

They lazed half an hour away, as Marco pointed out the curious arches of the church roof, the crowds constantly moving up and down the curved steps, the little shops.

‘Decide what you would like for a souvenir,’ he ordered.
‘
I intend to buy you a thank-you present for
all you’ve done for Mamma.’

She smiled at him.
‘
This is my present, Marco
—
this day. The boat, and just sitting here, and this enormous ice, and—’ she sighed contentedly.
‘
Everything. This is what we think of, back in England when we say Italy. Colour, warmth, flowers, fine old churches, and people. Like that old priest with the white beard, and the woman in black with the basket of bread.’

‘
You’ve been happy with me?’

‘
You know I have.’

He leaned towards her.
‘
Then why not stay, Jan
cara
?
You know I want you to.’

She turned her face away, lest he should see naked longing in her eyes.
‘
You know I can’t.’

That wasn’t true. She could stay by saying the word. But she would be throwing away the last three years of hard work, and any hope of a future in nursing, such as she had planned. Throwing away, perhaps, the hope of marriage one day far ahead. For it was certain Marco Cellini would never consider the little nurse who cared for his mother as a possible bride. He would expect a fine dowry, an old, respected Italian family, possessions to match his own. Whoever he chose would be fortunate, for he would make that girl love him; exert all his charm, all the arts by which man woos woman, to make his wife his sweetheart and lover.

Yesterday he had said the woman he loved was out of reach. What did he mean by that? Maybe she was married already. Or dead, perhaps. But that would not stand in the way of his marriage when the time was ripe. He would need sons and daughters one day. The Italians, she had observed, adored children; and Marco, who looked nothing like a family man at this moment, would expect to surround himself with beautiful children in due course.

So she turned her head and said
I can’t,
and died a
little as she spoke.

Presently he said it was time to move.
‘
Before lunch is a good time for our call. Leave the talking to me, but keep your eyes and ears open. If Bianca is there, we may be sure we shall see some trace of her. She’s an untidy girl.’

‘
But she took so little. Why? That’s what puzzles me. There’s something at the back of my mind all the time, but I can never quite capture it. Some sort of clue.’

He was searching for a taxi.
‘
Something you saw?’

‘
No. At least, I don’t think so. Something I heard. Did you ask me to do something which I haven’t yet done?’

He halted by a railing. Far below lay the busy little harbour, the crowds milling slowly round and round, the orange-and-lemon stalls where vendors shouted their wares. In some curious way, the scene, so far down that the people looked like toys, nudged a memory for Jan.

‘
Let’s go down there,’ she said suddenly.
‘
Then I might remember.’

But by the time they reached the harbour her mind was blank again, and Marco a little irritated by the unnecessary journey, the lost time.

‘
I’m sorry,’ she apologised weakly.
‘
Up there, it seemed almost clear, but now it’s gone. Must be all these people.’

His lips curled fastidiously.
‘
Trippers. A herd for the milking. Now do you see why we don’t want Barini to become a popular resort?’

‘I see people looking prosperous, Marco. The money flows in. Look at it, walking over the gangways to give itself up.’

He laughed shortly.
‘
Wait till you see Anacapri
!’

‘What I’ve seen so far,’ she told him tartly, ‘is remarkably beautiful, and frankly I don’t see beauty in
picturesque dirt and beggars.’

There we go, she despaired. Can’t we spend one morning together without quarrelling?

The taxi zigzagged up hairpin bends much steeper and longer than those of Barini. The air was heavy with orange blossom, acacia, and, Jan had to admit, petrol fumes. But after a while their driver turned off into a side road and all the tourist traffic was left behind. When they arrived at their destination Jan drew in a deep breath.

The house was faced in white stucco and pink tiles. Along its arcaded front palm trees grew, and small fountains tossed their silver into the air and fell back into marble basins with a musical splash. It was more regular than the Villa Tramonti, and this formality, among the rioting foliage and flowers of the island, gave it a special beauty. But as they walked across the garden to the great white doors Jan felt a trembling in her stomach. Sheer nerves, she told herself crossly, and what have I to be scared of? If the girl is here, it’s between herself and her brother.

A servant conducted them to a shady
salone,
where the young mistress of the house was writing letters at a graceful tulipwood escritoire. She threw down her pen and ran to meet them.