LUCY GORDON: The Italian’s Miracle Family

‘Why not? I’m getting on with my life, not living in the past. It’s different for you because you have Tina, and the home you shared with your wife. You can’t escape the past, but I can. And I have.’

He moved away from her.

‘Maybe you have,’ he agreed. ‘But are you sure you took the best route out of it?’

‘What the devil do you mean?’

‘“Devil” is right,’ he said with grim humour. ‘I think it must have been the devil who told you to survive by pretending that you weren’t a woman at all.’

‘What?’

‘You crop your hair close, dress like a man-’

She sprang to her feet and confronted him.

‘And you call Elena nineteenth-century! You may not have heard of it, but women have been wearing trousers for years.’

‘Sure, but you’re not trying to assert your independence, you’re trying to turn yourself into a neutered creature without a woman’s heart or a woman’s feelings.’

‘How dare you?’ She began to pace the room, back and forth, clenching her fists.

‘Maybe it’s the only way you can cope,’ Drago said. ‘We all have to find our own way. But have you ever wondered if you’re damaging yourself inside?’

‘You couldn’t be more wrong. I cope by self-control, because that’s what works for me. Without it I might have cracked up, and I wouldn’t let that happen. So I don’t cry. So what? Do you cry?’

‘Not as much as I used to,’ he said quietly.

The answer stopped her in her tracks. It was the last thing she’d expected him to say.

‘The emotions and urges are there for men as well as women,’ he added.

‘Maybe you can afford to give in to them,’ she snapped. ‘I can’t. This is how I manage, and it works fine. I’m over it, it’s finished, past, done with.’

‘Do you know how often you say that?’ he demanded, becoming angry in his turn. ‘Just a little too often.’

‘Meaning?’

‘Meaning that I think you’re trying to convince yourself-say it enough and you might start to believe it.’

‘I say it because it’s true.’

‘Then what were you doing at the waterfall today? Don’t try to fool me as you fool yourself. If it was really finished, you’d never have come here.’

‘All right, I wanted to tie up a few loose ends. Maybe I needed to find out the last details, just to close the book finally. It troubles me a little, but it doesn’t dominate me, and it hasn’t destroyed me because I won’t let it.’

But she heard the shrill edge to her own voice, and knew that she was merely confirming his suspicion. He was actually regarding her with pity, and that was intolerable.

‘Stop pacing like that,’ he said, taking hold of her with surprisingly gentle hands. ‘You’ll fall over something and hurt yourself.’

She stood, breathing hard, trying to regain her self-control. She wanted to push him away, but the strength seemed to have drained out of her. Besides, there was something comforting about the hands that held her: big, powerful hands that could lift a stone or console a child.

‘Sit down,’ he said quietly, urging her back to the chair. ‘You’re shaking.’

After a few deep breaths she said, ‘Aren’t we forgetting why I’m here? You wanted me to fill in the gaps in your knowledge, and I’ll do it, but my feelings are none of your business. Off-limits. Do you understand?’

He nodded. ‘Of course.’ He managed a faint smile. ‘I told you that Elena thinks I’m a mannerless oaf, without subtlety or finesse, going through life like a steamroller. I dare say by now you agree with her.’

She shrugged. ‘Not really. You said yourself, we all find our own way of coping. Yours is different to mine, but to hell with me! To hell with the rest of the world. If it works for you…’

‘My way no more works for me than yours works for you,’ he said quietly. ‘But with your help I might find a little peace of mind. I’m afraid my manners deserted me earlier today.’

‘You’re referring to the way you kidnapped me?’

‘I wouldn’t exactly say-Yes, I suppose I did. I apologise.’

‘Now that I’m here,’ she said wryly.

‘Yes, it’s easy to apologise when I’ve got my own way,’ he agreed with a touch of ruefulness. ‘That’s how I am. Too late to change now. And if you can tell me anything…’

‘Are you sure you want to know? Learning the details doesn’t make it any easier. If anything it hurts more.’

He nodded as if he’d already thought of this.

‘Even so, I’ve got to pursue it,’ he said. ‘You of all people should understand that.’

‘You really know nothing about James?’

‘Carlotta rented a small apartment in Florence, but it was in her name with no mention of him on the paperwork. I went over there and found enough to tell me that her lover was called James Franklin, but that was all.’

‘No other address?’

‘One in London, in Dalkirk Street, but he’d left it shortly before.’

‘Yes, that was where he lived when I knew him. Did you discover when the Florence apartment was rented?’

‘September.’

‘So soon after they met,’ she murmured.

‘That was my thought too. Their affair must have started almost at once, and the first thing she did was hunt for a love nest. I found it looking oddly bare-very little personal stuff, almost like a hotel room. I suppose they spent all their time in bed.’

‘Yes,’ she agreed huskily. ‘I suppose so. But surely he must have brought some things with him from England?’

‘It’s a very tiny apartment. They were probably looking for something larger.’

‘And his things would be stored in England until he was ready to send for them,’ Alysa said. ‘Only he never had the chance. I wonder what became of them?’ She gave a sigh. ‘Oh well!’

‘I couldn’t find anything on the internet about him. What did he do for a living?’

‘Nothing for the last few months. He used to work in a big city institution-that’s how we met. I’m an accountant and they hired me. He hated the job-being regimented, he called it. Then he came into some money and he said he was going to fulfil his real ambition to be a photographer. He left the job, bought lots of expensive equipment and started taking pictures everywhere, including several trips abroad. He asked me to go with him, and I promised I would when I could get some time off.

‘But that never seemed to happen. I should have gone with him to Florence, but at the last minute I couldn’t get away. I had several new clients.’

‘And they mattered more than your lover?’ Drago asked curiously.

‘That’s what he said. He said I couldn’t even spare him a few days. But I’d worked so hard to get where I was-I knew he didn’t really understand, but I never imagined-I thought James and I were rock-solid, you see.’

He didn’t reply, and his very silence had a tactful quality that was painful.

‘I should have gone with him,’ she said at last. ‘Maybe no love is as solid as that. So he came to Florence without me, and that’s probably when he met Carlotta.’

The picture show had started again in her head, and she watched James’s return to England, herself meeting him at the airport although he’d told her there was no need.

Now she noticed things she’d missed at the time: the slight impatience in his face when he saw her, showing that he really hadn’t wanted her there. Nor had he been pleased when she accompanied him to his apartment, although he’d cloaked his reluctance in concern for her.

‘Shouldn’t you be at work? They won’t like it if you take too much time off.’

Laughing, she’d brushed this aside.

‘I told them I wasn’t going back today. When we get home, I’m going to cook you supper, and then…And then, anything you want, my darling.’