Summer at the Lake (45 page)

Floriana stared back at him sadly. ‘You’ve left it too late, Seb.’

A haunted look came over his face. ‘Don’t say that.’

‘But it’s true.’

‘Are you saying a choice can’t be unmade?’

When she didn’t say anything, he said, ‘Give me your hand.’

She did as he asked. ‘Look,’ he said, tracing a finger across her palm and making her shiver despite the sultry heat of the day, ‘it says here that we’re meant to be together. Can’t you see it?’

The last wedding Adam attended had been a catalyst for change for him; it was when he’d met Jesse. He didn’t like to think what the outcome of today’s wedding might be.

When he and Esme had returned from Villa Carlotta yesterday afternoon there had been no sign of Floriana. She didn’t appear until early evening and despite her attempts to avoid looking at them, it was obvious she’d been crying. It was equally obvious that she didn’t want to talk about what had gone on between her and Seb.

They had planned to go to Menaggio for dinner, but Floriana had said she had a headache and they should go without her as all she was fit for was a shower and bed. With Floriana upstairs in her room, Esme had then said she was too tired for an evening out and so he had offered to fetch takeaway pizzas from a nearby restaurant. No sooner had he arrived back than a flash of lightning lit up the sky followed by a clap of thunder so sudden and loud it had made Esme start and drop the cutlery she was putting on the table on the terrace. Heavy rain had driven them inside and, gathering momentum, the storm had raged for the rest of the evening and well into the night. The power had gone off at one point and after he’d found the fuse box and flicked the switch and the lamps in the sitting room came back on, Esme urged him to go up and talk to Floriana.

‘No,’ he’d said. ‘If she wanted to talk, she would. I’m not going to pester her.’

‘Don’t be stubborn, Adam. I know what you’re thinking, that you dared to trust your feelings and now you don’t know where you stand with her.’

‘Please, Esme,’ he’d snapped, unsure just how much she knew, he’d said nothing to her about kissing Floriana, ‘I don’t want to talk about it!’

Now, as the morning sun shone down from a faultless blue sky and the lake and mountains looked scrubbed fresh and clean, Adam regretted the sharpness of his words to Esme. She meant well, he knew, but really this was something she had to stay out of.

Using the net provided, he skimmed the surface of the swimming pool to clear it of storm debris. As he worked methodically at the task, he repeatedly warned himself not to leap to any conclusions. In particular, where Floriana was right now.

On his way downstairs, he’d noticed her bedroom door was ajar, and hoping she was awake and might be ready to talk, he’d knocked and pushed it further open, only to find that her bed was empty. The thought flashed through his mind that she’d slipped off in the night to be with Seb. He’d known it was a crazily irrational thought, but he couldn’t stop himself from casting his gaze round the room to check her things were still there. She’s gone down to the supermarket, he’d told himself angrily. Just as she’s done every morning.

The pool now clear of leaves and twigs, he put the net away. It was almost nine o’clock. And still no sign of Floriana. Or Esme. Odd that she should be sleeping in so late, but then perhaps, as it had with him, the thunder had kept her awake last night. Already wearing his swimming shorts, he pulled off his T-shirt and went to the deep end of the pool. He dived in. He swam two lengths under water, surfaced for breath, then did the same again. Next he tried swimming three lengths under water. Then four. It was as good a way as any to rid himself of his frustration. All he wanted was to know where he stood. Was that so much to ask?

When he’d pushed his lungs to the limit, he floated on his back, his eyes closed against the dazzling sunshine. Sensing he wasn’t alone, he looked up to see Floriana sitting on the edge of the pool at the shallow end, her feet dangling in the water. He’d never seen her look more serious. Or more sad.

‘Hello,’ he said cautiously. On the sun lounger behind her was a carrier bag from the supermarket.
See
, he told himself.

‘Sorry about last night,’ she said quietly. ‘I just needed to be alone. Are you very upset with me?’

He flipped over onto his front and swam towards her. ‘Should I be?’

‘I don’t know. I don’t know anything at the moment.’

He stood up. ‘Is there anything I can do or say that would help?’

She held her arms out. ‘A hug would be nice.’

‘A wet hug?’

She nodded.

Putting his arms around her, he held her sun-warmed body to him and, fully clothed, she slipped into the water with him. Her mouth came to rest against his and he kissed her. It should have reassured him, but it didn’t. Her sadness was palpable and it added to his own.

‘Where’s Esme?’ she asked when she drew away from him.

‘I don’t know, I haven’t seen her yet.’

She frowned. ‘It’s not like her to sleep in so late.’

‘I thought the same about twenty minutes ago.’

They were both looking up towards Esme’s bedroom where the shutters were still closed after the storm last night, when Esme appeared through the open kitchen door.

‘Your mobile, Adam,’ she called to him. ‘It was ringing, but I’m afraid it’s stopped now, I was too slow in bringing it to you.’

Out of the pool, Adam grabbed a towel. ‘That’s OK,’ he said, roughly drying his hair then wrapping the towel around his waist. ‘Whoever it was I’ll call them back.’

Handing the phone to him, Esme looked at Floriana, who was now climbing out of the pool. ‘And how are you this morning, young lady? Did you sleep well? Headache all gone?’

Floriana pulled at her clinging vest top and dripping shorts. ‘I’m fine,’ she said. ‘I’ll go and change and then I’ll get us some breakfast.’

‘That’s all right,’ Esme said crisply, ‘I’ll see to that. When you’re ready, I want to have a chat with you.’

Adam didn’t doubt for a minute what Esme wanted to discuss with Floriana, but he lacked the will to intervene. Frankly, he didn’t think she could say anything that would make the situation any worse than it already was. He sensed also that she had woken in a combative mood and would take no prisoners. So he went upstairs to change and to deal with the missed call; it was probably Denise.

But the message left on his voicemail proved him wrong; it was from the estate agent, Giovanni Zazzaroni, and he wanted Adam to call him back. He did, but getting no reply, he left a message.

Her mind in as many knots as her stomach, Floriana felt awful. She hadn’t eaten since lunchtime yesterday and didn’t think she’d be able to tackle the breakfast Esme was downstairs making – or the lecture she was to be subjected to. She had the strongest feeling Esme disapproved of her meeting Seb yesterday.

All last night she had dreaded her mobile going off with a call or a text from Seb. Or worse, receiving a communication from a member of Imogen’s family. The fact that no one had been in touch implied the wedding was going ahead. Floriana couldn’t believe that it would. How could Seb go through with marrying someone he claimed he didn’t love?

Although there was still time yet for it to be cancelled, she thought, as she stripped off her wet clothes and stepped into the shower. Two and three-quarter hours, to be precise.

There had been so many times in the past when Floriana had worried about Seb, but never more so than now. He’d effectively begged her yesterday afternoon to save him from what he was about to do because he lacked the courage to save himself. Just a few words from her and he would be free from the doomed-to-failure situation he’d got himself into, he’d bargained with her.

She had parted from him in tears, knowing that unable to do the one thing he’d begged her to do, she had failed him.

‘Stop manipulating me,’ she had cried, ‘I can’t do it. I won’t have this on my conscience.’ Then she had really hurt him. ‘I don’t love you, Seb. I don’t love this man you’ve become. If you had any respect for yourself, or me, you wouldn’t be trying to make me your scapegoat. I’ll never forgive you for this.’

‘Don’t say that. I need you, Florrie.’

‘But I don’t need you. I have Adam in my life now.’

She’d hit home with that and his stricken face showed the extent of his hurt. When he’d recovered, he’d said, ‘Will you promise me something, will you come tomorrow? If I know you’re there, I’ll have the courage to go through with it. Because at least then you’ll think better of me.’

His logic was skewed beyond belief. How could she think better of him when he was deceiving not just himself, but Imogen? And why? To save Imogen’s feelings? To save her from the shame of being jilted at the altar?

‘If that’s what you want,’ she’d replied, ‘then I’ll be there.’

‘You promise?’

‘Yes, Seb, I promise. And now I’m going.’

She had left him sitting in the bar; he hadn’t come after her and she hadn’t looked back.

Unable to face returning to the villa straight away, where she knew Esme and Adam would be waiting for her, she had gone for a walk. She had walked and walked, fast and furiously, following a path that wound its way along the lake. At times it was nothing more than a shaded narrow cobbled track between ivy-covered stone walls that were so close she could almost touch them either side of her. In other places the path took her away from the lake, up into the hillside before dropping down onto the busy main road.

Eventually, when the sky had begun to darken with storm clouds and she’d reached the town of Menaggio, she came across a taxi rank and got a lift back to Mezzegra. One look at Adam’s concerned expression was enough to have her retreating to the sanctuary of her room. She hadn’t wanted him to see her so upset, knowing it would give him the wrong idea. Yet with hindsight, she had done exactly that, had given him all the cause in the world to believe she was still in love with Seb.

Out of the shower now, she heard a sharp knock at the door. ‘May I come in, please?’

At the sound of Esme’s voice, Floriana’s stomach tied itself into yet more of a knot.

The instructions that accompanied the wedding invitation explained that guests were to be shuttled to the Villa Balbianello by motorboat and it looked like Floriana and Adam were amongst the last of the guests to set off from the waterfront in Lenno.

Rounding the promontory where the magnificent villa stood, the spectacular view had everyone in the boat, including Adam, reaching for their cameras. Floriana was the exception; she couldn’t bring herself to record the view, she just wanted to get the day over and done with and then remove all trace of it from her memory.

His photo taken, Adam put his mobile away in his jacket pocket and leant in closer to her. He slipped his hand inside hers. ‘How’re you doing?’ he asked quietly.

‘Fine. I think.’

‘You know, I was wrong earlier when I said you looked lovely; you look beautiful.’

She smiled gratefully. ‘It’s the dress that’s beautiful.’

‘I disagree, it’s the combination of
you
and the dress, and that’s my final word on the subject.’

The dress was Esme’s doing. As so much was, Floriana was beginning to realise.

When the old lady had knocked on her door earlier, it hadn’t been to interrogate her about Seb, but to present her with the grey silk dress she had worn once before – a dress that far outshone the one she had brought with her.

‘You don’t have to wear it,’ Esme had explained, ‘but knowing how well it suits you, I thought you might want to consider it for today. I’ve ironed it for you, and I brought this little bead bag to go with it, the shoes as well. Do you think you can manage to walk in them for the day?’

Floriana hadn’t been at all sure about wearing the dress; she hadn’t wanted to make anything of her appearance – she’d wished to be as inconspicuous as possible – but not wanting to hurt her elderly friend’s feelings, she had agreed to wear it. So after Esme had insisted Floriana ate some breakfast, she then helped her to get dressed and do her hair, sweeping it up into a sophisticated French pleat, a style Floriana would never have accomplished on her own. Lastly, Esme had put a double string of very fine pearls around her neck. ‘There now,’ she’d said, ‘you look perfect.’

Having expected Esme to cross-examine her as to why she’d been so upset last night, she had been surprised when the old lady had made no mention of it. When curiosity had got the better of her and Floriana had queried the absence of any questioning, Esme had responded by asking if there was anything in particular she wanted to get off her chest. ‘If there’s anything troubling you,’ she’d said, ‘you know you can always talk to me. Is there something troubling you?’

‘You know there is,’ Floriana had replied. ‘Seb shouldn’t be going through with this travesty of a marriage.’

‘That’s for him to decide.’

‘He told me yesterday that he doesn’t love Imogen.’

‘That’s as maybe, but it’s still his decision to do the right thing, whatever that is. You must stay out of it.’

‘I know, but the thing is—’

There had been no chance to talk more as Adam had knocked on the door to say it was time to go.

The boat had slowed its speed now; they were approaching a landing stage that was decorated with pink and white ribbons and balloons.

‘You thinking what I’m thinking?’ Adam muttered.

‘What?’

‘Ken and Barbie.’

Floriana smiled.

‘Sorry, cheap shot on my behalf to make jokes about your friend’s big day.’

‘That’s all right, I doubt he played any part in the arrangements.’

Standing aside to let the others off the boat before them, they followed behind, making their way up the stone steps from the small dock and its wrought-iron gates.

‘Somebody must have been busy this morning clearing this lot up after last night’s storm,’ Floriana remarked when they found themselves on a gently sloping path flanked either side by manicured lawns with not a stray leaf or twig in sight. Majestic cedar, cypress, magnolia and pollarded plane trees provided some welcome shade from the hot sun blazing down from a crystal-clear blue sky.