Shadows of the Past (5 page)

‘He runs it all?’ Alva asked, somewhat amazed.

‘Oh yes. He has assistants, of course, but he does not lock himself away. If anyone wants to see him with complaints or plans or ideas, then he is available to them. The conte is well respected and I might add, Alva, he is loved too. His father practically left Luca bankrupt but Luca is a different man from him. He has worked very hard to make everything profitable. We are finally getting somewhere.’

‘Really?’ That cold haughty man was loved — that seemed rather amazing. She could not imagine him being sufficiently thawed for anyone to want to love him.

‘You know a good deal, Doctor Martino.’

‘Please, Alfredo, and yes, Alva I do. You see I grew up here. My father was a
paesano
, but I had, from who knows where, some ability, and so Luca’s grandfather paid for me to go to university. It is thanks to him I am now what I am.’

The day went well for Alva. She felt better for the first time that she had been at the palazzo. Alfredo confirmed that there was nothing really physically wrong with her — the incident when she had been sick, had been probably caused by over-exercising before food. She rather thought it was brought on by her wrangling with Luca but she did not want to go into great detail. It was too personal.

They ate lunch on the loggia; she enjoyed the food too, a salad and pasta and delicious ice cream that was made on the island. She took a small glass of wine, not one from Luca’s vineyards but a fine Chianti that Claudia brought out with their meal. Obviously it had been chosen because it had been remembered that she particularly liked it.

Later they strolled in the grounds and ended up at the summerhouse. Alfredo said.

‘You know, Alva, when you left you had been through a bad time. It could be that you had not overcome that. Of course, you do not remember … anything?’

‘No, nothing, everything is a blank, as I said.’

‘Yes, yes, Alva, I do not doubt you but you never know, some little trigger might have made you aware of something. Losing a baby is … ’

‘What?’ She stopped, taking hold of the doctor’s arm. ‘I lost a baby?’

‘Alva, I am so sorry, I thought the conte would have said something.’

‘He’s told me nothing!’ She starred up into Alfredo’s kind brown eyes. ‘What happened? Did I go full term, was I … ?’

‘Alva, let us sit in the summerhouse, come … ’

*

After the doctor had left Alva, longing to be alone, went outside and down the path to the summerhouse. There was something that she could not identify but which kept drawing her to the place.

It was blissfully warm and she went and sat outside on the steps that led to the tiny terrace. The evening shadows crept over the trees, a warm soft dusk, and the tips of the trees seemed to be on fire as the sun spread scarlet fingers over the horizon.

The revelation that she had lost her baby had shaken her. It had been difficult maintaining her composure in front of the doctor, yet she had somehow managed to do so. It was the way to glean even more information, for had she given way to how she really felt, she was certain he would not have gone into as much detail.

She had been six months pregnant and she had nearly died. There were complications, for she had fallen down the stairs. Although the stairs now had a green and gold exquisite carpet, at that time the marble surface had been uncovered. She had bounced like a ball from the top to the bottom.

It had been, Doctor Martino told her, a difficult pregnancy anyway, she had been ill for most of the time. It was a dreadfully hot summer too which had not helped.

She had to be accident prone, falling down the stairs and then, after she had left Luca, being knocked down by a driver who had not even had the decency to stop.

Spreading her fingers across her stomach she tried to conjure up what it had felt like, Luca’s child growing inside her. Was he not happy that she was pregnant?

He had told her when she asked about their relationship, that the sex had been good. That did not equate well with a loving partnership, the beginning of two people starting a family. Perhaps he had not wanted a child, after all, he had Renata.

Or was that why he no longer even liked her? Was it because she had lost his child in a terrible accident?
Did he blame her for that?
Yet how on earth could she be to blame? She would not have fallen down the stairs on purpose; she might have lost her memory but she knew in her mind that she would never have done that. She was too much of a coward anyway and her vivid imagination, as it did now, would surely then have conjured up for her all the things that could have gone wrong. She could have damaged her spine, her head, broken her body beyond repair. The prospect of what could have happened caused her to shudder violently.

She wrapped her arms around her legs and, bending her back, rested her head on her folded knees. The scent of the garden was more intense now and the very air seemed to grow warmer, even with the imminent departure of the sun. She felt a terrible sadness growing in her. It settled inside her, deep at the very pit of her. It ached like an intense physical pain and caused a moan-like sigh to escape her.

‘So you are here.’ The voice wafted to her, seeming to come from a long way off, but when she raised her head and opened her eyes, she saw that Luca was no more than two feet away from her.

‘People have been calling you, did you not hear?’

She said. ‘If I had heard them I would have answered. I’m not trying to be melodramatic.’

‘No one said you were, Alva. Dinner is almost ready and we have guests.’

She looked up at him and felt something inside her, a kind of fury that she could no longer be bothered to control. This physically attractive man had the power to arouse such passion inside her.

‘I don’t do guests,’ she snapped the words at him. ‘I don’t know who I am — how can I talk to your guests? I’m here because I have nowhere else to go, so don’t include me in your social life!’

‘That’s rather a self-pitying statement, Alva, even for you.’

‘Damn you Luca, just stop this now! You don’t want me here so let me go and stop drip-feeding me your hatred. I don’t know what I did, what I was capable of; I can’t answer or excuse anything. I just want to be left on my own.’

‘Do not be silly, Alva; the best way to get over this is to mix with people. They may trigger your memory.’

‘I don’t believe that. If anything were going to trigger my memory it would surely be the fact that I lost my baby. I can’t even remember that, Luca, so don’t tell me mundane things like guests for dinner will do me good.’

He had gone very pale. Even in the blue twilight she could see. His hands clenched at his sides and his lips thinned.

‘I did not know you had been told that, Alva. I wanted to tell you that myself.’

‘Oh yes, and when would that be? I’ve been here two days and I’ve had no mention of it from you.’

‘It has hardly been appropriate. Should I have told you the moment you arrived? Or earlier today when things were going on in my life from which I could not escape? I wanted to be able to spend time with you, to talk about it.’

She flicked her tongue over her lips, feeling uncomfortably guilty now. He was obviously telling the truth, she did not think he would lie about such a thing. He had lost his baby too; she had not given any consideration to that fact.

She stood, smoothing down her skirt. ‘Well, I know now,’ she murmured.

‘Alva, I have to have dinner with these people, perhaps we could talk later.’

‘I don’t know, what is there to say?’

He stared at her, the momentary compassion gone from his face, now he was that cold and haughty man once more, barely approachable. Still she relented; she had to give him the opportunity to say something about the loss of their child.

‘Perhaps we should talk,’ Alva said. ‘But tomorrow, if you have time.’

‘I will make time. Will you come back to the house? Perhaps you would like a little dinner in your room?’

‘Maybe a sandwich or something, I had lunch with Doctor Martino.’

However, she let him escort her back to the house. She was only conscious of his hand cupping her elbow when it was no longer there. He let her go as they entered the hall. From somewhere she could hear laughter, a woman’s tinkling laugh and then the rumble of a man’s. It seemed so inappropriate that people should be laughing just then. Turning she looked up at Luca and he nodded his head, as if he agreed.

*

The next morning she found some lightweight casual trousers and a pale green and white chequered shirt. Last evening, after eating some cheese and bread she had slept deeply. She knew the tablets she was on aided her sleep pattern, but even so it was, oddly, the best sleep she had had in a long time.

Claudia brought her breakfast of warm rolls and butter and coffee. She relayed the information that the conte’s guests had left by the launch at eight o clock. ‘I had not realized they stayed the night,’ Alva murmured, more to herself than to Claudia.

‘
Sí
, Contessa, Signor Paolo and Signora Sophia have their own rooms. Ah, Contessa.’ Claudia hit herself lightly on the forehead. ‘
Scusi
— Signor Paolo is the brother of the conte — the younger one.’

‘I see.’ That was why he had wanted her to join them at dinner. She had thought from what he had said, that the people that were dining with him were business acquaintances, she had not realized they were family. She was momentarily mortified by her rudeness, and then thought she had no reason to feel so guilty. After all, Luca had not told her that it was family who were guests. Yet would she have changed her mind? She doubted her ability to meet people just yet; it was hard enough getting by day by day living in this black fog without pretending that all was normal.

‘And the conte says, Contessa, that he will meet you in the sun lounge at ten-thirty. He has had to go to one of the farms but he will be back.’

‘Thank you, Claudia. I’ll be waiting for him,’ she smiled at the woman. Claudia was the only person who made her feel halfway normal.

Alva went out on to the loggia, it was pleasantly warm, the soft scents of morning wafted to her in an easy breeze; there was the scent of lemon and pine and a stronger perfume that she thought might be jasmine. She walked the length of the loggia, feeling restless and confused. How cruel that she could not remember anything about this perfect place. It was lovely, it appealed to her, yet she could not remember one single aspect of her life here. Had she ever been happy and in love, a new bride looking forward to a long and fulfilled life with the man she loved? Perhaps she would never remember!

An hour sped by, during which time Alva became more irritable. Luca had not materialized, probably he had no intention of doing so. He had more important things to do than to discuss things with her, even though the discussion concerned the loss of their child!

Angry now, she left the loggia and took a route that led to the stables. There were a couple of boys there cleaning out. With an imperious manner, that she adopted in case there were questions, she asked that they saddle a horse for her. There was no hint of a refusal and they hurried to do her bidding. They saddled up Star, a chestnut mare, not more than fourteen hands, that seemed placid enough. Without difficultly or hesitation, Alva mounted, tapped her heels into Star’s sides, and guided the reins urging the mare to the left. They trotted down the drive where she had come in the car and once she reached the lodge, she urged the horse through. She took a left turn, riding away from town; there was what looked like a bridleway about a mile on and she took that. It was so peaceful and quiet, just her and the horse and she felt a sudden rush of real pleasure. This was something she really enjoyed, she recognized the feeling. It was the first taste of joy she had had since arriving in Italy.

The bridleway widened; on either side now there were pine trees and here and there grassy dunes. Eventually, the blue sea came into view and she found herself down on the beach. It was a narrow strip of beach about three miles in length. Just north of a large sand dune there was a decaying grey tower. Perhaps it was a watch tower or gun emplacement — whatever, it was crumbling into nothing. It was out of place here yet it seemed familiar, as if she had been there, resting against its wall. It had to be fanciful imagining. How could she remember that old thing and not the man that she had married! More to the point, just why a building should trigger something in her head when she could not remember the agony of losing her unborn child, confirmed that she was imagining it. Stilling the horse, she slid from its back and, holding the reins, went up to the building.

The walls were more solid than she had first realized, although part of the wall had fallen down, as if it had been pounded by a storm. Peering inside, she saw it was quite narrow but there was a flight of stairs which twisted at the middle, spiralling down, but it was too dark for her to see how far they went. Where could they lead? She recalled Alfredo telling her of the piratical past of Luca’s ancestors — could it be that the stairs led to an underground passage that led beyond the walls of the palazzo? The very structure was visible from the sea so it was not really secret. Everyone would know where it was. If raiding parties came it would suit their purpose to use that to get into the palazzo. If indeed that was where the stairs led.