Shadows of the Past (4 page)

‘Maybe,’ Alva murmured.

She crossed the room towards the bathroom. Claudia put her hands on her hips.

‘The
signorina
,’ she shook her head despairingly. ‘But I must not say — except — she is not
simpatico
.’

Alva went into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. She dare not go there with Claudia. Of course, Alva knew that the woman was referring to Renata, the girl to whom supposedly Alva was unkind. Glancing at herself in the mirror she saw that she looked pale and sickly still. She examined herself not out of vanity but of a wish to try to understand who she was. Was she really the archetypical wicked stepmother or was there more to Renata than her father saw? She would never find out — not only would she not see Renata apparently, but Luca thought his daughter above suspicion. She had not handled the relationship with her stepdaughter very well. It had to have been difficult for them both, but as the more mature woman she should have perhaps tried harder.

‘I don’t feel I’m a spiteful person. I’m not a bitch, he said that.’

She lay in the tub, Claudia had tipped a generous amount of bath foam and the bubbles were abundant and deliciously sweet. She rested her head and enjoyed the experience.

Eventually leaving the bath, she wrapped herself in a large soft towel, and then went to lie on the bed.

Hearing the door open, expecting Claudia, she turned her head and saw to her dismay that it was not Claudia but that it was Luca.

‘I heard you were ill,’ he said sternly.

‘I’m all right,’ she murmured.

‘I think we should call the doctor,’ he insisted, moving deeper into the bedroom.

‘Do you need assurance that I am not faking.’

‘I think we already established, Alva, that you are not faking, but you are obviously not well, Alva, and I would be happy if the doctor came to check you over.’

‘Very well,’ she agreed, before turning away from him.

He closed the door; she turned to make sure he had gone through it. Of course it was obvious that everything she did or would do would be reported to him. He had to have set the servants to spy on her — and was Claudia also part of the conspiracy? She realized that she had better be careful what she said and of what questions she asked.

In spite of knowing that the doctor would come to visit, she decided to dress.

The strength had returned to her limbs and now that she had eaten something and bathed, she felt quite refreshed. From the chest of drawers she took some underwear, it was silky and flimsy and there were many brassieres and panties in a variety of colours. She chose a lavender set and then from the closet, she took out a linen skirt with a matching top in a delicious shade of deep pink. Looking at herself when dressed she realized she had chosen well. The vivid pink suited her pale complexion and her sleek blonde hair. She had her make-up bag with her and she took out a lipstick that would not clash with the colour of her outfit, slicked it over her lips and then, after fluffing out her bobbed hair, went to look for a pair of shoes. There were lots of shoes. Was she a spendthrift? It certainly looked as if she was a woman who could shop with a vengeance. There was a pair of strappy white sandals with a slim not-too-high heel, and she slipped her feet into them.

There was no one about when she went downstairs. She remembered the sun lounge, the place that Luca had said she liked, and so she made her way there. Someone was there already, a dark, very slender girl. She was not quite beautiful but had perfectly formed features and a fine aristocratic bone structure. Her nose was not as large as her father’s and her eyes were the colour of dark, rich chocolate. Alva guessed that she was Renata Mazareeze, her stepdaughter.

The girl was exquisitely dressed, having that strong sense of style that many Italians had. The way she wore a silk scarf at her neck, the casual way the cuff on her satin blouse was turned, the well-cut black trousers, all looked expensive but worn with aplomb.

The girl said before Alva could speak, ‘I didn’t want to see you. Weren’t you told that?’ She spoke in a rude tone of voice. Obviously, the girl had no idea about good manners. She looked such a well-bred girl but Alva realized that appearance could be deceptive, and it certainly was as far as her stepdaughter was concerned.

‘Yes, Renata I was told that. However, your father told me that I liked to sit in this room. I was not following you nor was I looking for you. I’m just looking for somewhere to sit and pass the time.’

‘Why don’t you sit and pass the time in London?’

‘I don’t know,’ Alva said. She crossed the room and took the pale cream armchair.

‘Your father invited me here until I get well.’

‘Get well!’ The girl scoffed. ‘As if you are really ill. Don’t think I believe your story, Alva, I know why you’re here. You lost your pampered lifestyle and you want it back.’

‘If you say so, Renata,’ Alva said smoothly.

‘You’ll give yourself away, Alva. You aren’t that clever.’

‘Renata, you are a lovely young girl and you are obviously very clever, so why do you waste so much energy hating me?’

The girl stared at her as if the question had somehow confused her. Alva allowed herself to meet the gaze of her stepdaughter and at the same time, to try to drive away the misery that was there inside her. For this young girl to feel such passionate dislike must mean that it was in some way warranted. It could not just be that Renata was jealous that her father had married another woman. It could not be that simple.

‘You know why and you know what you did to my father; don’t pretend you don’t remember because
I
will never believe it. You cannot forget something so bad.’ The girl stared at Alva, her eyes spewing out such raw hatred that Alva shivered.

However, managing to maintain a cool exterior she said, ‘That’s up to you, Renata. But I
am
telling the truth and if you want me to feel really remorseful then you should tell me what I did that was so bad.’

‘What you did?’ Renata asked. ‘You want me to say it. You did lots of things. You were horrid to me.’ She took a breath and waited for a long moment, as if expecting Alva to deny it. ‘You flirted with men — probably you did even more than flirt only I could never prove that — but that’s not all, the most unspeakable thing you did was to — ’

‘
Renata!
’

The voice whipped across the room. The girl turned around to meet the furious gaze of her father.

‘The helicopter has returned. Do you have your things ready?’

‘Why don’t you tell her, Papa? Tell her what she did and then you’ll see how she’s lying. She’s so good at lying, Papa, you know that.’

‘Do you have your things, Renata?’ He repeated the question. He was so cold, Alva thought, that he made her shiver. After defying her father by holding his gaze in the end Renata shrugged.

‘I won’t be long!’

‘Don’t be, Antonio will fly us to Roma but I must be back here for a meeting.’

‘Very well, Papa, give me ten minutes.’ The girl swept out, dramatically slamming the door behind her.

Alva started at the echoing sound but then sought to gain her composure.

‘You must not pay any attention to Renata, she is young,’ he shrugged, as if age excused bad manners.

Alva wanted to say something, to let him know how she felt, but she managed with effort to say nothing.

‘The doctor is here. I will send him to you. He will stay for lunch and then Guido will take him to the port and he will take the ferry back to the mainland.’

The idea of having lunch with a stranger, and a doctor at that, filled Alva with apprehension but again she said nothing. Obviously, the doctor had come from the mainland and so she could hardly send him back without some sustenance.

‘There is a ferry, to and from the mainland?’

‘Of course there is, Alva, but it would not be polite to send him back without lunch.’

‘Of course not, I was not meaning to suggest I do that, I was just curious.’

‘There are two ferries a day and that is all. The first is in the early morning and then there is one at three o clock. The last ferry leaves the mainland at 7 p.m. winter and summer. However, if you should wish to go then Antonio will take you in the launch.’

‘Antonio seems to do everything,’ she murmured.

‘Yes, he does.’

She wondered what this paragon was actually like — was he young and handsome or more mature? She recalled that the conte had said she had liked him, had she liked him too much? Was he one of the men she had flirted with? The thoughts tormented her — each one led her nowhere, just to a dark place where there was no past and seemed also to be no future.

‘Will you see Doctor Martino here?’

‘Yes, if that’s all right.’

‘He may wish to examine you,’ Luca suggested.

‘Then I will make other arrangements.’

‘As you wish.
A più tardi
.’

‘
Arrivederci!
’

*

Doctor Martino was a man in his sixties with a shock of white hair. He had a kind face and at once Alva realized he was someone that she could relate to. He came and sat opposite her and launched into a warm explanation of who he was, that he had known her when she had first come as a bride and that he had treated her previously. He was very efficient and explained that he had already been in touch with the hospital in London to have access to her medical records.

He had only that morning spoken to her consultant after the conte had told him she had been ill, and was quite familiar now with the nature of her complaint.

‘Thank you,’ Alva murmured. ‘I think the conte worried unnecessarily. I’m afraid I had been rather silly. I walked to the village without eating anything this morning. I, well, I had a difference of opinion, sort of, with the conte and I think that upset me. In other words, maybe it was emotional rather than physical.’

‘Perhaps, but let me take your temperature and we will see.’ He popped a thermometer into her mouth and chatted generally while he waited for the mercury to rise or fall. When he checked it he murmured and nodded appreciatively.

‘Your temperature is a little under, Contessa, but it is nothing to worry about. You are bound to have your ups and downs; you were involved in a serious accident. Although your physical wounds have healed, the shock will take some time, even if you were able to remember. Tell me, Contessa, when you came out of the coma you had no idea who you were? Not the slightest inkling?’

‘No, I looked at a blank wall. There was nothing.’

‘And your consultant tells me there was no concussion, so that is a blessing. You know it is possible, Contessa, that you will never remember anything.’

‘I’m praying that isn’t going to be the case, Doctor Martino, but yes, I have had that explained to me.’

When he had finished, she ordered them tea and when one of the servants brought it, Alva suggested they go and sit in the loggia. It was deliciously warm now and she had an urge to be outside. It was something she thought that she liked.

‘That will be pleasant, Contessa.’

‘Please can you not call me, Alva?’ she implored. ‘I don’t feel like a contessa!’

‘I would like that, Alva. You would have me call you Alva before you went away, you know.’

‘Well, that’s something that hasn’t changed about me.’

‘I don’t imagine very much has changed about you, Alva. You are as beautiful as always.’

‘Thank you,’ she smiled up at him, accepting the compliment with grace.

They settled themselves in comfortable chairs on the loggia. At the far side there was a fountain of pale marble featuring slender nymphs draining their water jars into the shell-like shape of the base. She enjoyed the gentle tinkle of the music and the smell radiating from the pots of colourful blooms. Alva poured the tea and while she did the doctor, without her asking, told her the history of Santa Caterina.

He was very knowledgeable and made it interesting. Apparently the Mazareeze had been masters of the island for centuries, although it was suspected that they had once been rogues before they were aristocrats! She found that amusing, that the haughty conte and his family could be descendants of some ne’er-do-wells, even if it was in the long ago past. It certainly gave him a touch of humanity.

Yet for all that, they were good masters and fair to their employees, no matter how humble. Olive trees were a source of income, as well as acres of vineyards. The climate was perfect all the year round and they were not subjected to the intense heat or the cold winters that were prevalent on the mainland. Crops of tomatoes flourished, as did lemon trees and various vegetables. The farmers had shares in their crops and much profit was ploughed back into the island.

The small resort where Alva had disembarked had been developed from a small fishing village, and now boasted a marina and an exclusive hotel. Many of the townsfolk also ran
pensions
from their own homes; these catered for those who preferred a more authentic stay on Santa Caterina. Several rather exclusive designer outlets had opened in the town, although they closed from late autumn to early spring. Not many ventured to the island in the winter months, although it would be possible to have an enjoyable time. The conte preferred to have moments of peace and rest for his people and for himself.