Lucy Gordon: A Family For Keeps

'You can't help me. Nobody can.'

'But I will,' he insisted. "There has to be a way if there's a friend to help you. And you have a friend now.'

Whether she understood the words or whether it was his tone that reached her, she stopped struggling and stood passive.

It was the first time he'd seen her face turned towards him without suspicion or defensiveness. But he could still feel her trembling, and it made him do something on impulse.

Putting his hands on either side of her face, he kissed her softly again and again, her eyes, her cheeks, her mouth.

'It's all right,' he said again. 'I'm here.'

She did not reply, but her eyes closed. He wrapped his arms right around her, leading her carefully down the stairs. She held onto him, eyes still closed, but moving with confidence while he was there.

Step by step they made their way to the bottom of the stairs, then back into the little room, where Vincenzo guided her to the bed so that she could lie down again.

She murmured something that he could not catch, then seemed to relax all at once. Vincenzo pulled the blanket up and tucked it tenderly around her.

'Not a word of this, my friend,' he said, joining Piero. 'Not to anyone else and especially not to her.'

Piero nodded. 'We wait until she mentions it.'

'If she ever does.'

'You think she won't remember what happened tonight?'

'I don't think she even knows what happened tonight. She wasn't here.'

'Then where was she?'

'In some far place where nobody else is invited. It's dark and fearful, and it's from there that she draws her strength.'

'Her head must be very muddled if she thinks she's Annina.' Piero sighed. 'It was like meeting a ghost in the flesh.'

Vincenzo raised an eyebrow. 'Rid yourself of that idea my friend. She is no ghost.'

'But you heard what she said. She was buried-she died-the child-she was speaking as Annina.'

'No,' Vincenzo said sombrely. 'What's really horrifying is that she was speaking as herself.'

At last Julia awoke to find everything clear. Her body was cool again and the inside of her head was orderly.

'Have you come back to us?'

Looking around, she saw Vincenzo sitting nearby, and wondered how long he'd been there.

'Yes, I think I have,' she said. 'More or less. I may even be in one piece.'

She swung her legs gingerly to the floor and began to ease herself up. He crossed the floor quickly and held out a hand.

'Steady,' he said as she clung to him. 'You haven't been eating enough to keep a mouse alive. No wonder you're weak.'

'I'm not weak. You can let me go.'

He did so and she promptly sat down again.

'OK, I'm weak.'

'Give yourself time. Don't rush it.'

He spoke in his normal way, but she had an odd sensation that something was different. He was looking at her curiously, with a question in his eyes.

'What's the matter?' she asked. 'How do you mean?'

'You're giving me a strange look.'

For once she seemed to have caught him off guard. 'I was just-wondering if you're really better. You certainly seem-' He seemed to be searching for the right words. 'You seem more like your normal self.'

'That's how I feel,' she said, wondering what he was implying.

'Good,' he said, sounding deflated. 'Stay there while I

make you some soup.'

The hot soup was straight from heaven. When she'd eaten she went down to the pump for a wash.

She returned to find Vincenzo still there. He was sitting by the window, sunk in his own thoughts, and didn't at first hear her. When she hailed him he seemed to come out of a dream. 'OK?'

'Yes. Who'd have thought washing in freezing water could, feel so good? How long was I out of it?'

'Just over a week.'

'I slept for a week?'

'Not all the time. You kept recovering slightly, then you'd insist on getting up and walking around before you were ready. So you got worse again.'

'But to sleep for a week!'

'Or a hundred years,' he said ironically.

'Yes, now I know how the sleeping princess felt. I've even lost track of the date. Mind you, I often-'

She checked, as if about to reveal something, but then thinking better of it. Vincenzo's curiosity was heightened.

'You often forget the date?' he asked. 'How come?'

'Nothing. I didn't mean that.'

She met his gaze, defying him to disbelieve her openly, although she knew he wasn't convinced. He backed down first.

'Well, anyway, it's December second,' he said.

'That's weird, to fall asleep in one month and awake in another. And no newspapers or television. It's strange how nice life can be without them.'

'To shut the world out!' he mused. 'Yes, that would be nice. What is it?'

He asked because she had suddenly stopped in the middle of the floor, and her eyes became vague, as though she were listening to distant voices.

'I don't know,' she said. 'It's just that-I had such dreams-such dreams-'

'Can you recall any of them?' Nobody could have told from Vincenzo's voice that the answer mattered to him.

'I think so-there was-there was-'

She closed her eyes, fighting desperately to summon back a memory that lay just beyond reach. It was disturbing, and yet in its heart lay a feeling of peace, the very one she was seeking.

'Try,' Vincenzo said, unable to keep a hint of urgency out of his voice.

But it was a fatal thing to say. The minute she reached out for the dream it vanished.

'It's gone,' she said with a sigh. 'I hope it comes back. I think it was lovely.'

He shrugged. 'If you can't remember it, how do you know it was lovely?'

'You know how it is with dreams. They leave you with a kind of feeling, even when you forget the details.'

'And what feeling did this one leave behind?'

'It was peaceful and-happy-' She said the last word in a tone of astonishment. 'Oh, heck, it was probably nothing at all.'

'Nothing at all,' Vincenzo agreed.

She looked around. 'Where's Piero?'

'He's gone to the landing stage.'

'Looking for Elena? Perhaps she'll come today.'

Vincenzo shook his head. 'She'll never come. She died several years ago.'

Julia sighed. 'I wondered about that. I can't make him out. How does he come to be living like this?'

'At one time he was a university professor. Elena, his daughter, was everything to him, especially after his wife died. Then she died too and everything finished for him.'

'He lost a child?' she murmured.

She felt something tearing at her at the thought of Piero and his lost child. There was no pain like it. How could anyone recover?

'She was drowned while out sailing. They found her body three days later. I was on the quay when they brought her home, and I saw Piero, staring out to sea as the boat came in. But when it landed he didn't seem to see it, just walked away. He didn't even go to her funeral because he refused to believe she was dead.

'He's never accepted it. I've tried to make him understand. I've even taken him to the cemetery at San Michele, to show him her grave, but he won't look at it.'

'Of course not. You shouldn't have done that.'

'Isn't it better for him to face reality?'

'Why?' she asked quickly. 'What's so marvellous about reality?'

'Nothing, I suppose.'

'Let him cling to his hope. Without it he'd go crazy.'

'But he's already a little crazy.'

'Then let him be crazy, if that's the only way to stop his heart breaking,' Julia said, almost pleading with him. 'How can you understand?'

'Perhaps I can,' he said wryly. 'Anyway, I know what you mean. Tell me-are you crazy?'

'Oh, yes,' she said, almost cheerfully. 'I'm as mad as a hatter.'

'Because of the ghosts inside you? That's what you said.'

'If I did, I was feverish. I don't remember.'

'I think you do. I think you remember what you want to remember.'