The Runaway Visitors (16 page)

Victoria tried to console her sister, but Amanda refused to be consoled. She persisted in believing that Victoria was trying to outdo her; in believing that Giorgio
did
like her, and would like her more if Victoria did not get in the way. She would go to the farm when she liked, because Victoria didn’t really think they were too busy to welcome her, but wanted to keep her from Giorgio.

Victoria gave up. She must think about this problem, but her mind was strangely unwilling to concentrate on Amanda at all, but wanted to wander off to thoughts of Charles and what had happened in the studio that afternoon, and the problem of her own love. She thought she stood about as much chance of success with Charles as Amanda with Giorgio. If Amanda was in an unhappy state, so was she! Charles had been kind, very kind; and apologetic, and had made his peace; but he talked of his foundlings, in the plural, bracketing her, as he always did, with Sebastien and Amanda. He thought of them as a family block. Only as his Madonna sculpture did he think of her individually.

The situation was by no means improved that evening when Giorgio came to call on Victoria when Amanda had gone to bed, begging her to go for a walk with him. It was a wonderful, moonlit night, soft and cool, and Victoria went out with him for a while, knowing that it could do no good, but not liking always to refuse. She knew that Giorgio was falling more in love every day, and it gave her no pleasure to have to discourage him. Feeling as she did for Charles, she could understand Giorgio’s feelings, even Amanda’s youthful falling in love. But she could not honestly give him cause to hope.

‘You know we’ll be going back to England soon, Giorgio.’ ‘Yes, I know. But England is not so far away, and there are always letters. One keeps in touch, one goes for a holiday . . .’

He persisted in hoping. He would not take no for an answer. When Victoria went back into the house, she felt unusually sad. Sad chiefly for herself, because she could see no hope in her particular case; but sad for Giorgio too, and sad for Amanda. Did everybody fall in love with the wrong person? she wondered. Did things never go right for lovers?

Amanda was not asleep. Her restless tossing and turning told Victoria that. So Victoria switched on a bedside lamp to undress by, and saw almost immediately that Amanda had been crying again.

‘What’s the matter, honey?’ she asked sympathetically.

‘You know what’s the matter. That was Giorgio, wasn’t it, who came?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did you know he was coming?’

‘No, I didn’t.’

‘I don’t believe you. I expect you arranged it, waiting until I’d gone to bed. You knew I would have waited up if I’d known he was coming. Why did he come?’

‘He just wanted to go for a walk,’ said Victoria.

‘To go for a walk! You must think I’m stupid. ’

‘Oh, Amanda, don’t go on and on. In a matter of weeks, we’ll be back in England and you’ll wonder why you made such a fuss about all this.’

‘I will go on and on,’ began Amanda stormily; but Victoria was tired and not in a mood for more tantrums, so she pulled on her dressing gown and went to the bathroom, saying
:

‘Well, if you’ve got any more to say, you’d better say it in the morning. I’ve had enough for one day, thank you.’ And she closed the door between herself and Amanda so sharply that the younger sister was surprised and promptly fell silent.

In the morning, however, they had other things to talk about, more important than Amanda’s tantrums or even Victoria’s emotional problems. Victoria had cleared their breakfast table and carried the tray back to the kitchen, and since Miss Jameson was not there, she washed their dishes too, and returned to the terrace to write letters there. Amanda was starting on her bird embroidery and Sebastien was swopping long grass for the gardener. They had settled down to their various pursuits when Miss Jameson hurried out to them.

‘Well, here’s a fine kettle of fish,’ she said, without preamble. ‘Why, what’s the matter?’ asked Victoria, thinking she must have done something reprehensible in Miss Jameson’s kitchen. Amanda looked up from her embroidery and Sebastien looked towards them from where he was working, and then began to walk towards the terrace.

‘Your young friend Giorgio—Giorgio Beltoni—has had an accident on that motor bike. The speed he goes at along these country roads, well, one can’t say honestly one is surprised.’ ‘Giorgio?’ exclaimed Victoria. ‘ Oh, he isn’t hurt, is he?’ ‘Giorgio?’ cried Amanda at the same time. ‘Oh, no! Oh, no! ’ ‘What happened?’ asked Sebastien, coming up the terrace steps.

‘Nobody knows exactly at the moment. Apparently he was going round a bend and a lorry was coming the opposite way, too far on the wrong side, and there was a collision. ’

‘Oh, God,’ said Victoria, thinking that Giorgio must have got the worst of such an encounter. ‘Is he all
right,
Miss Jameson, is he all
right
?’

‘I don’t know.’ Miss Jameson seemed surprised that they had all taken this so personally: but why wouldn’t they, when he was almost their only friend here and they were all so fond of him? ‘I only know they took him off to hospital and his parents have gone to see him there.’

Amanda was weeping and making no attempt to hide her tears. ‘Oh, I
do
hope he’s all right,’ she said. ‘Poor Giorgio, poor Giorgio. Can I go and see him, Victoria?’

‘Of course you can go and see him,’ said Victoria. ‘We’ll all go and see him, if it’s allowed. We must find out first where he is and how he is. Don’t worry, Amanda, it may not be too bad. Don’t worry until we know.’

‘I always knew,’ Miss Jameson said, ‘that no good would come of such a powerful motor bike.’ She looked at Sebastien grimly. ‘If Mr. Duncan hadn’t put his foot down,
you
might have been on the back of it.’ Victoria looked at Sebastien too, thankful that he had not been, knowing that pillion riders suffered most in accidents. That, at least, was something that Charles had done for them.

CHAPTER VIII

Victoria was uncertain what to do. None of the family could settle to anything now. All their thoughts were with Giorgio, and the uncertainty of not knowing what had happened to him was hard to bear. She knew that Giorgio’s parents would be at the hospital, although his father would probably return home to see to farm affairs, but she felt it would be an intrusion to call now, even to make enquiries. All the Italian friends and neighbours would be welcome, she knew; and, without any intention of being cynical, she also knew that Mama Beltoni, all of them in fact, would take part in dramatic and noisy outbursts of Italian temperament; but Victoria did not think the new foreign friends of Giorgio would be welcome just now. It would be better to stay away.

They could not wait, however, without
some
news, and the one person who might be able to help them was Charles. He had fluent Italian, was an influential person, and was not likely to be put off by hospital Sisters in the way that Victoria might; so when all three of them felt they could wait no longer, Victoria said she would go and see if there was anything Charles could do.

He was at work, as usual, but on this morning, the moment he saw her at the outside studio door, he stopped what he was doing and came towards her.

‘I’m very sorry to intrude when you’re working,’ Victoria began, ‘but we wondered if you would help us to find out something about Giorgio. You know he’s had an accident?’

‘Yes, Miss Jameson told me. I’m sorry to hear it, Victoria.’

He did not say I-told-you-so, nor mention the motor bike at all. ‘We know he’s in hospital, but we have no idea how badly he’s hurt, and we’re all so worried. Could you possibly ring up the hospital for us and find out?’

‘Of course I’ll do that, Victoria. I’ll do anything at all to help you. I know how you must be feeling, poor darling. I’ll ring up immediately. ’

He put an arm about her shoulders and led her towards the wrought iron staircase that descended into the library-living room. He went first, Victoria following.

‘Sit down, Victoria, while I phone,’ he said, and seated himself at the wide desk and took up the receiver. She waited until he got through, watching him with love, but too concerned about Giorgio at the moment even to think about her love.

The hospital would give no information beyond saying that Giorgio was ‘comfortable’, because Charles was not a relative, and there might, possibly, be a prosecution involved. ‘I know,’ said Charles, after a moment in thought, ‘we’ll get the Contessa to do it. She won’t take no for an answer. I think they’ll give
her
information. ’ He began to use the telephone again and was soon speaking to the Contessa. When he rang off he turned to Victoria.

‘She’ll do it immediately,’ he said. He smiled encouragingly at her. ‘She will say in her inimitable fashion: “ I am the Contessa of So-and-so and I would like information about . . .” and so on; and because Italians love a title, they will give it to her at once; and because Giorgio has such an exalted friend, they will think more of him. It’s the Italian way. They’re impressed by the
big
car, the
big
diamond, the display of wealth . . .’

Victoria realised that he was talking to her to distract her mind from her worry about Giorgio. She realised that he was once more seeing more in her relationship with Giorgio than ever existed.

At last, the bell rang and Charles answered it, and once more Victoria listened to a one-sided conversation until it ended. Then he turned to her.

‘Well, it could be worse,’ he said with a heartening smile, ‘but it’s bad enough, I suppose. Both ankles broken and a few superficial cuts and bruises. They’ll make a more detailed examination when the swelling goes down and operate probably to-morrow. No visitors. He’s being kept under sedation and won’t want to see anybody for two or three days. So that isn’t too bad, is it, Victoria?’

‘Not if they can get the ankles right again. Ankles are awkward things.’

‘I’m sure he’s in good hands. Try not to worry, Victoria. At least he hasn’t lost his wonderful good looks. . . . Now what you need, I’m sure, is a drink to pick you up.’

He brought her a drink and one for himself.

‘Now let’s drink to Giorgio’s good health and speedy recovery,’ he said, and they did so.

‘Perhaps,’ suggested Victoria, ‘the Contessa could find out some time when visitors are likely to be allowed. We
would
like to go and see him. ’

‘Of course you would,’ Charles agreed at once, ‘and we’ll certainly find out for you.’

‘Then I must go and leave you to your work.’ Victoria rose and put her glass down on the desk. ‘Thank you so much for your help, Charles.’

‘You’re welcome.’ He rose too and went to the door with her, and once more his arm was consolingly about her shoulders. Victoria knew he was consoling her on account of another man, but whatever the reason for it, it was bliss to be so close to him again. At the door, she paused.

‘You didn’t say I-told-you-so, Charles, but I’ve been thinking all the morning that, if it hadn’t been for you, Sebastien might have been on the back of the motor bike, and
that
might have been a tragedy for
our
family. So thank you again, thank you.’

‘Why, bless you, that’s very handsome of you, Victoria,’ Charles said, and he leaned down and kissed her cheek and gave her a hug before letting her go. ‘Yes, I’m glad, too, that it wasn’t Sebastien, but I’m sorry it had to be anybody, particularly such a great friend of yours, Victoria. And do try not to worry too much about him. I’ll let you know, via the Contessa, when you can go and see him. All right?’

‘All right,’ she agreed, looking at him with shining eyes, and since Victoria could not know of the loving gratitude in her eyes, she could not prevent Charles from thinking that it was the prospect of seeing Giorgio that had put it there. She hurried away to find Amanda and Sebastien to put their minds at rest.

The accident to Giorgio made a very great difference in the lives of the Fenn family. It was not until he was absent from them that they realised how much they all depended on him, all in their different ways.

Victoria and Amanda had driven down to the farm one afternoon to express their sympathy to Signora Beltoni, but it was as Victoria had feared. The Beltoni family had little time for the young foreigners now. They stayed only a few minutes and went away depressed. Two of Giorgio’s cousins had already arrived at the farm to help with the farm work at this busy season, and to allow the parents the occasional freedom to visit their son. They too made the English girls feel intruders. Nor was there any place for Sebastien there now: nor any real attraction, with Giorgio in the hospital and the motor bike smashed up.

They were all at a loss. Amanda returned to her state of apathy, sulking slightly, not interested in anything. Sebastien took to going off by himself, and even spent his allowance on a second-hand push-bike. He did not want to travel by car with Victoria always to drive him; and looked forward to his next birthday when he could start to drive himself. He liked to go off alone and did so on the old bicycle. The only time when all of them travelled together was when they went to see Giorgio, taking with them fruit, chocolate, newspapers, magazines and flowers. He was always delighted to see them, but nearly always had other friends at his bedside so that they had little chance of private conversation. And when the day came when Giorgio was sent to a hospital far away, to a special bone-surgeon, it seemed to them that their isolation was once more complete. Amanda was completely unapproachable and spent much of her time writing letters: Victoria could only suppose they were addressed to Giorgio, since Amanda kept them very much to herself.