Not Just a Convenient Marriage

Part of her regretted leaving at this moment. Part of her was glad. It had been a relief to avoid facing the question that was teasing her. Damiano had spoken of introducing her to her real self. If she’d had to answer him—what would she have said?

She had no idea.

CHAPTER THREE

AT LAST THE Billioni appeared. The boat came to a halt and Damiano helped her out. As they entered the hotel the receptionist became alert and respectful, responding to his gesture indicating that he wanted her complete attention.

So he really is the owner, Sally thought.

Suddenly she heard Charlie mutter, ‘Oh, heavens! How did that happen?’

‘How did what happen?’ she asked, looking around.

Then she saw what had alarmed him. Through an open door she could just see into a room where there was a man whose face she recognised with alarm. He was in his thirties, sloppily dressed, unshaven, with dark hair that looked as though he didn’t bother to comb it. She didn’t know his name but she’d seen him lurking around their home in England, and knew that he was bad news.

‘Charlie, who is he? Charlie? Charlie, where are you?’

But he’d slipped away. Damiano was still engaged in conversation, so she headed for the door to confront the man.

‘I’ve seen you before,’ she said. ‘In England.’

‘Yes, I’m Ken Wilton and I’m looking for that brother of yours. Where is he?’

‘Why do you want him?’

‘Why do you think? He ran off owing me a lot of money, and I want it now.’

Her worst fears were realised, but she set her chin and faced him.

‘Charlie paid all his debts. I know that.’

‘You think that,’ he sneered. ‘I guess you gave him some money, huh?’

‘Yes. More than enough to pay what he owed.’

‘Is that what he told you? Well, I’m telling you that there’s a much bigger debt come to light, and I’m here to collect. Otherwise there’ll be trouble. So you’d better go and get him. He knows who I am.’

‘I’ll do no such thing. I don’t believe he owes you anything.’

He moved closer to her.

‘Really?’ he sneered. ‘I wonder just how sure you are of that, and how long it might take to change your mind.’

Sally tried to turn away from him, but he took her arm in a ruthless grip. ‘Where’s your brother?’ he said.

With a great effort she managed to wriggle free but he came after her and struck her, causing her to fall. A sharp pain went through her head as it hit the wall.

She heard a voice screaming, ‘Sally! Sally!’

Suddenly Pietro was on his knees beside her, trying to take her into his arms. Then a man’s voice cried out her name again and Damiano appeared in the doorway. The next moment her attacker had rushed to the window and dived out. They heard a splash as he landed in the water outside.

Damiano dashed to the window, glanced out, then looked back at Sally on the floor. A porter had followed them in, lured by the noise. Damiano barked some orders at him, then came to kneel beside Sally, drawing her up so that his arms supported her.

‘What did he do to you?’ he groaned.

‘He knocked her down,’ Pietro wailed. ‘I heard him yelling and then he hit her. Oh, Sally, please don’t die.’

Tears were pouring down his face. Through her pain and confusion one thing stood out for Sally—Pietro must be protected from the horror of what he’d seen...

‘I’m all right, Pietro,’ she said. ‘Truly. Just a little bump.’

‘We’ll see what the doctor has to say about that,’ Damiano said. ‘I’m taking you home with me. You can’t stay here in case that ruffian returns.’

‘It’s Charlie he’s after,’ she murmured. ‘Charlie—’

‘I’m here,’ he said, appearing. ‘He’s got away. They couldn’t catch him.’

‘Then the sooner we leave, the better,’ Damiano said.

He rose, drawing Sally gently to her feet, then lifting her in his arms.

‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘You’re coming with me and you’re going to be safe.’

‘He’s after Charlie—’ she whispered.

‘He’ll be safe too. You have my word on it. Trust me.’

All her instincts agreed, and she found herself relaxing in his arms as he carried her out, pausing only to bark some more orders at the receptionist.

‘They’ll pack up your things and send them after us,’ he told her.

‘My bill—’

‘Taken care of. Don’t worry about anything.’

Her head was aching and she could do nothing but rest it against his shoulder and yield everything up to him. She felt herself being lowered into the motorboat, Damiano sitting beside her with Charlie and Pietro facing. As they swept away Damiano made another call on his cell phone.

‘The doctor will be there when we arrive,’ he said when he’d hung up. ‘Here.’ He handed the phone to Pietro. ‘Call Nora, tell her to have two rooms ready.’

Pietro did as he was told. Sally couldn’t understand the Italian words, but she sensed the tension in his voice. When he finished he spoke urgently to Sally.

‘She’s getting everything ready. We’re going to look after you.’

‘Thank you,’ she whispered, reaching out to take his hand. The little boy’s concern touched her heart.

As Damiano had said, the doctor was there before them. Damiano carried her upstairs to the room that would be hers, laid her down on the bed, then stood back to watch.

The doctor declared that the bump on her head wasn’t serious, but a few days’ rest would do her good.

‘She’ll get everything she wants here,’ Damiano said. ‘I’d like you to come again tomorrow.’

‘Certainly. I brought some painkillers with me, and she should take some now. Then rest and good food is what she needs.’

‘She will be all right, won’t she?’ Pietro asked anxiously. ‘She isn’t going to die?’

‘Definitely not,’ the doctor said kindly. ‘She just needs to take it easy.’

Pietro gave a brief smile but his air was still one of anxiety. Sally reached for him.

‘I’m stronger than I look,’ she assured him. ‘Don’t worry about me.’

His reply was to throw himself into her arms.

‘Steady, don’t shake her,’ Damiano protested.

‘It’s all right,’ she hastened to say. ‘He isn’t hurting me.’

Nora brought in some water, which Sally used to take the painkillers. Then the men departed while Nora tucked her under the duvet. Whether it was the pills or the shock of the evening’s events, Sally began to feel drowsy, and soon the world drifted away.

She awoke to find Damiano sitting by the bed, watching her.

‘How are you feeling?’ he asked.

‘Better. My head isn’t hurting. I’m sorry to give you so much trouble.’

‘Don’t talk nonsense,’ he said, speaking with a gentleness that contrasted with his words. ‘You are no trouble.’ He indicated some bags on the floor. ‘Your things have arrived, so you can unpack soon.’

‘My bill—’

‘I told you not to worry about that. You were attacked in my hotel. That’s my responsibility and the least I can do is wipe out your bill, and Charlie’s. Don’t mention it again.’

‘But that man—Wilton—what happened to him?’

‘He escaped, which may be a good thing. Otherwise the police would have become involved and you’d have found it distressing. The hotel security staff will find him.’

‘But how will they know what he looks like?’

‘They’ll know his appearance from the camera outside the front door that records the face of every visitor,’ Damiano said. ‘They’ll track him down and persuade him not to trouble you again.’

She didn’t ask what ‘persuade him’ meant. This man would have his own methods of persuasion that would probably make her shudder. She found that she could no longer fight off the horror. Tremors afflicted her, and she clenched her fists, struggling to stay calm.

‘Come here,’ Damiano said.

The next moment his arms were around her, enfolding her in warmth and comfort.

‘It’s all right,’ he murmured. ‘Hold onto me. I’m going to look after you.’

She believed him. The feeling of safety seemed to envelop her, warming her heart and her flesh in a way she had never known before. She clung to him, letting her head rest on his shoulder, wishing it could stay there for ever.

For several minutes neither of them moved. Then he lowered her gently onto the pillow.

‘I want to understand everything,’ he said. ‘Getting rid of that lout was just the start. What else do you need me to do?’

She hesitated, glad to feel his strength and support, but uncertain whether she should tell him any more about Charlie.

‘You’ve done enough—’ she began.

‘That’s for me to say,’ he replied in a voice that was quiet but brooked no argument. ‘I want to know what lies behind this, and you’re going to tell me.’

She sighed.

‘I know I’m safe, but Charlie isn’t. Wilton was after him, and I don’t think he’ll give up.’

‘I promise you, he will when I’ve finished with him,’ Damiano said.

‘Where is Charlie now?’

‘Safely settled in the room next to you. Tell me about him. Once before you implied that he’s irresponsible, even for his age.’

‘He doesn’t mean any harm, but he’s young and he doesn’t think things through. He gambles a lot, and loses.’

‘And guess who has to pay up to get him out of trouble,’ Damiano said wryly.

‘I suppose I shouldn’t, but I find it so hard to refuse him.’

‘Even though you must know you’re not doing him any favours in the long term. He’s never going to learn better as long as he gets away with it.’

‘I know,’ she said wretchedly, ‘but there’s no one to protect him, and that’s my fault.’

‘I don’t believe that. Stop putting yourself down.’

‘Seven years ago I was knocked down in the road. My parents set out to drive to the hospital. A lorry crashed into their car and they both died.’

‘And you blame yourself for that?’ he demanded. ‘Surely it wasn’t your fault that you were injured?’

‘No, but if it hadn’t been for me they wouldn’t have been on the road and an eleven-year-old boy wouldn’t have been left an orphan. Since then I’ve been the only family he has.’

‘How old were you at the time?’

‘Twenty-one.’

‘Just twenty-one, and your life was taken away from you.’

‘No—no, not really. People expect to make sacrifices for the ones they love.’

‘But they don’t expect to live in a prison. Isn’t that your life? Behind bars, with Charlie’s needs holding the key?’

It was true. She’d never faced it before, but Damiano saw everything.

‘But you’re the same,’ she said. ‘You build your life around Pietro’s needs.’

‘A father expects to do that for his son. But a sister is entitled to a life of her own. One day he’ll have grown up enough to go his own way, and you’ll be left stranded in a desert. No husband, no lover, no children.’

‘But I have my career. I’ll always have that. When he finally leaves me I won’t be in that desert.’

‘You will if your career is all you have.’

‘But what can I do? He needs me, but I can’t make him understand. I beg him to be careful, and responsible, but he just thinks I’m making a fuss about nothing.’

‘As lads of that age often do,’ he agreed.

‘I can’t just abandon him.’

‘But can you defend him? When men like that come calling can you drive them off?’

She shook her head. ‘No, I guess I can’t.’ She gave him an ironic smile. ‘If you ever want a job as a bodyguard I’ve got a vacancy.’

‘I’ll remember that,’ he said, returning the smile. ‘But when you return to England, and Wilton pursues you again—’

‘Don’t, don’t!’ she cried. ‘My head’s spinning. I don’t know which way to turn.’

‘Perhaps fate will show you.’

She shook her head. ‘That’s a nice thought, but you can’t rely on fate. You have to fix things for yourself. Only I don’t know how.’

‘But perhaps fate does know how. Just be patient and see what happens. Now it’s time for you to eat something. Nora has prepared you a meal, and Pietro is going to bring it in. He’s determined to stay awake and be one of your attendants. You won’t mind having him fuss over you, will you?’

‘No, of course not. It was terrible for him to see what happened. I know it upset him, and if looking after me helps him cope with it, I’ll be very glad.’

‘Thank you. I knew you’d understand.’

The door opened a crack and Charlie’s face appeared. ‘Can I come in?’

He came to the bed and hugged her. ‘Sorry, sis. I just seem to land you in it, don’t I?’

‘Don’t flatter yourself,’ she told him in the chivvying tone she often used with him. ‘There’s nothing about you that I can’t cope with.’

‘I’m sorry. If it wasn’t for me—’

‘If it wasn’t for you I’d be lonely. Don’t blame yourself, Charlie.’

‘Perhaps I should. Perhaps you should just dump me—’

‘And leave you at that man’s mercy? Get real. Grow up. We’re going to do this my way.’

He gave a comically theatrical salute. ‘Yes, ma’am, no, ma’am, three bags full, ma’am.’

She tried to mimic the salute, and winced at the pain in her arm.

‘No more of that,’ Damiano said. ‘You’ve got to rest every part of you until you’re better.’

‘That’s right,’ Charlie said.

He gave her an uneasy smile, which she returned. It was true, as she’d told Damiano, that Charlie was spoilt and self-indulgent. But his nicer side had a disconcerting habit of asserting itself unexpectedly. As he grew more mature, she thought, that side would be even more in evidence.

‘I’ll leave you,’ Charlie said. ‘Take care.’

He kissed her and went to the door. As he opened it they saw Pietro standing there with a plate in his hand. He advanced to the bed and set the plate on a small table.

Nora was there too, with a tray, but this was Pietro’s moment and she stayed in the background.

‘Are you better?’ he asked anxiously.

‘I’m fine.’

‘Truly? Truly?’

‘I promise. Oh, that food looks lovely.’

But as she took the first bite she went, ‘Ouch!’

‘What’s the matter?’ Damiano demanded quickly.

‘My mouth, where he hit it. It’s just a bit sensitive. I shall have to eat carefully.’

Luckily the food was soft and she managed well. Pietro didn’t take his eyes off her, and she had a sad awareness of how painful this must be for him, given his history.

While she ate Nora unpacked her bags and put the contents in a chest of drawers. Then Pietro and Nora left them.

‘Is that all you can eat?’ Damiano asked.

‘Yes, it’s lovely but I can’t manage any more.’

He removed the tray and sat close to her on the bed.

‘Get some sleep,’ he commanded. ‘Don’t lie awake worrying.’

He wrapped his arms about her, giving her a sweet feeling of being enveloped in warmth and peace. Looking up, she saw his face more gentle and kind than ever before. His lips were barely an inch from hers as he whispered softly, ‘I’m your friend and you can trust me. Don’t forget. That’s an order.’

She gave a weak laugh. ‘I guess it’s an order I’ll have to obey.’

He nodded, and for a moment she thought his mouth would touch hers. She held her breath, uncertain whether she wanted the kiss or not. But in a second it would happen, and she would know.

But his lips brushed hers so softly that she barely felt them.

‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,’ he murmured. ‘Did I hurt your mouth?’

‘No, you didn’t hurt me,’ she whispered.

‘Goodnight, Sally. We can talk again tomorrow.’

‘Yes—tomorrow—’

‘You’ll feel better then. Your mind will be clearer. But in the meantime, remember you have nothing to worry about. Both you and Charlie are under my care. Trust me.’

She watched as he left and closed the door. Then she closed her eyes, wondering what was happening to her.

She had a mysterious feeling of having been transported into a different universe, one in which nothing was certain and everything was mysterious.

She wondered how she could ever cope in such a place. For many years now she’d valued certainty above all else. It had started in her childhood when, without quite knowing why, she’d known that she was a disappointment to her parents.

Then Charlie was born, and she’d begun to understand. Their joy over having a son had shown her that a daughter would always be second best.

She’d struggled for their attention by plunging into her school work, using her natural gift for figures to get to the top of the class. They had praised her, but she’d always known in her heart that Charlie came first.

Some sisters would have blamed and resented him, but her natural generosity shielded her from bitterness. Plus even as a small child Charlie had a wicked charm that won her over. He was naughty, cheeky, impertinent. He could make her tear her hair out. But his giggle could win her over.

Their parents’ death had made him her responsibility. She’d applied herself to the task with an earnestness that had caused arguments. Charlie was shocked to find her stricter than his parents, and blamed her for it.

‘You think all life is about figures,’ he’d accused her from the authority of thirteen. ‘If the sums add up you think the world’s OK.’

She hadn’t known how to tell him that her severity was based on apprehension. She dreaded to let him down. If she was sometimes too stern, wasn’t that better than being too easy-going and seeing him get into trouble?

And she recognised that his accusation was partly right. There was a certainty about figures that made her feel safe.

Yet now she found herself in a world where nothing was as expected. Surprises bounced out to confront her every moment, and certainty barely existed.

But she would cope. She was efficient, organised, strong; virtues that had carried her through life thus far. What could possibly happen here that could defeat her?

From outside came the sound of singing again. Moving carefully she eased herself out of bed and went to look out. There below was another gondola with another romantic couple. And there too was Damiano sitting on the balcony, looking over the water.

After watching him for a moment she drew back, closed her window and leaned against it, her heart beating.

* * *

Next morning Nora was all attentiveness, bringing her breakfast, waiting on her, making sure that she took her pills. Charlie looked in, then Damiano, and Pietro. The little boy looked pleased to see her in good spirits, and hugged her.

‘I’ve got to go to school now,’ he said with a yawn. ‘But you’ll still be here when I get back, won’t you?’

‘Definitely she will,’ Damiano said. ‘Come on, I’ll walk you to school.’

‘You don’t need to,’ Pietro said. ‘I can go alone.’

‘Well, perhaps—’

‘I’m not a little kid, Papa.’

To Sally’s surprise he seemed grumpy and offended, unlike the sweet-natured child she was beginning to know. Perhaps ‘macho’ set in early, she thought.

Pietro vanished without waiting for further argument, and she met Damiano’s eyes.

‘He’s getting independent,’ she said.

‘I guess so. He certainly doesn’t like me going to school with him. I was afraid he might be falling behind but his teachers all say he’s very bright and works hard, so I’m not sure why I’m suddenly unwelcome.’

‘Is it a long journey, difficult, dangerous?’

‘No, it’s just a few alleys away. Venice isn’t like any other city where you have to cross roads and be afraid of cars. He can manage it alone, but now and then I like to go with him. I hoped he liked it too, but recently he’s started saying no.’

‘He’s turning into his own man. You heard what he said. He’s not a little kid.’

‘I’d have thought he was still a kid, at only nine, but—well—’

‘He’s going to be like his father,’ she said in a faintly teasing voice. ‘When he grows up he’ll insist on doing things his way.’

‘I’m not sure that being like me would be a blessing,’ he said wryly.

‘That depends exactly what you mean.’

‘I mean a lot that I’m not willing to explain. Now, about today. I want you to stay in bed. The doctor will come later, and we’ll see what he says. In the meantime, you stay here.’

‘But what about Charlie?’

‘Leave Charlie to me. I’ll be in the hotel next door and I’m taking him with me. I’m planning some changes, a small theatre, a casino. He might have useful suggestions.’

‘So he’ll be safely under your wing,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’

‘Don’t worry about anything. Goodbye for now. I’ll send some English newspapers up if you need distraction.’

He was as good as his word. She spent the day browsing the papers, eating, sometimes nodding off. The doctor called and said she was improving enough to get up the next day.

Once she got out of bed and went to the window where, by a lucky chance, she saw Damiano and Charlie in the alley below, deep in conversation.

He’s safe, she thought contentedly. Oh, thank goodness we found this man.

She returned to bed and dozed for another hour. When she awoke there was a soft knock on the door.

‘Come in,’ she called.

It was Pietro, carrying a mug.

‘English tea,’ he said proudly. ‘Careful!’

The last word was directed at Toby, who came flying into the room and leapt on the bed, forcing Pietro to back away to protect the tea.

‘It’s all right, I’ve got him,’ she said, clutching Toby. With an unconvincing attempt at severity she added, ‘You pestiferous pup. You can’t stop hurling yourself at me.’

‘Pestiferous?’ Pietro queried, setting the tea down beside her. ‘Is that an English word?’

‘Yes. It has several meanings, but one of them is “annoying”.’

‘Ah! Irritante.’

‘Definitely.’ She wagged a finger at Toby. ‘You are irritante.’

‘Wuff!’ He licked her finger.

‘He just takes everything in his stride.’ She laughed.

‘He does with you, because he loves you.’

‘And I love him. Oh, yes!’ She put her arms around the dog. ‘He reminds me of my own lovely Jacko.’

‘You have a dog?’

‘I used to, a few years ago. He died. But he’ll always be with me because we were so close. He was the first one who really loved me.’

He stared. ‘Didn’t your parents love you?’

‘Yes, in their way, but—I think having a girl was a big disappointment for them.’

‘But that’s not fair,’ Pietro said indignantly.

‘Life often isn’t fair,’ she said wryly. ‘Some things we just have to put up with. Anyway, when they finally had a son the family was complete. And I always had Jacko to turn to. He belonged to my father, but he and I were specially close.

‘One day I walked into the room and Jacko’s whole face lit up with delight at the sight of me. Nobody had ever reacted to me like that before, and I just had to love him. I could tell him things I couldn’t tell anyone else.’

Pietro nodded. ‘Yes. They understand everything.’

‘I’m sure you talk to Toby a lot.’ In a teasing voice she added, ‘Does he give you good advice?’

‘No, but he listens.’

There was a forlorn note in his voice that made her reach out to him, touching him gently on the shoulder.

‘What is it, Pietro? Are you unhappy?’

He didn’t answer, but she could see confusion in his face, and guessed he wasn’t sure whether to confide in her.

‘Can’t you tell me?’ she asked softly. ‘I’m a good listener. Almost as good as Toby.’

He smiled, clearly reassured by her understanding, but still unwilling to speak.

‘Tell me,’ she urged. ‘Please, tell me.’

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