Reunited with Her Italian Ex. Lucy Gordon
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her bag. ‘I bought it at the airport so that I would be ready. The more you plan, the simpler life is.’
‘True,’ Mario murmured, ‘but there are some things that can never be planned.’
‘And you can’t always anticipate what they might be,’ she agreed. ‘You can try, but—’ She shrugged.
‘But they always take you by surprise,’ he murmured.
‘Not always. Just sometimes. It’s best to be ready.’
Giorgio looked from one to the other as if his alarm bells had sounded again.
‘It’s time we were making plans,’ he said. ‘I’ve called the others in the group, and they’re dying to meet you. We’re all invited to dinner tonight at the Albergo Splendido.’ He beamed at Natasha. ‘It’ll be your big night.’
‘Then I’d better prepare for it,’ she said. ‘I’ll look around Verona today so that I can sound knowledgeable at the dinner. Otherwise they’ll think I’m an amateur.’
‘Good thinking,’ Giorgio said. ‘I’ll escort you, and we’ll have a great time.’
‘Now, here—’ Natasha pointed to a street on the map ‘—this is the Via Capello, where I can visit Juliet’s house. I’d like to go there first, then the house where the Montagues lived. Finally, I’d like to see the tomb. Then I can work out my plans.’
‘We’ll leave as soon as you’ve finished breakfast,’ Mario told her.
THE CHAUFFEUR-DRIVEN CAR was waiting for them, and soon they were on their way around the city.
Natasha already knew a good deal about Verona, having read about it on the plane. It was an old city, much of which went back to Roman times, two thousand years ago. Several places survived from that era, including a huge arena where gladiators had once slain their victims, but now was used for musical performances.
The streets were lined with historic buildings, many hinting at mystery and romance, all seeming to come from a more intriguing and beautiful age. She kept her eyes fixed on them as they drove through the town, trying to absorb its atmosphere.
‘We’re just turning into the Via Capello,’ Mario said. ‘We’ll reach Juliet’s house at any moment.’
A few minutes later the car dropped them at the entrance to a short tunnel. They joined the crowd walking through to the courtyard at the far end, where the balcony loomed overhead. Natasha regarded it with shining eyes.
‘It’s lovely,’ she said. ‘Of course I know it was put up less than a hundred years ago, but it looks right. It fits the house so perfectly that you can almost see Juliet standing there.’
‘She’s actually over there,’ Giorgio said, pointing at a figure standing a little ahead, beneath and to the side of the balcony. It was a bronze statue of a young woman.
‘Juliet,’ she breathed.
As she watched, a woman walked up to the statue and brushed her hand against its breast. She was followed by another woman, and another, then a man.
‘It’s a tradition,’ Mario explained. ‘Everyone does it in the hope that it will bring them good luck. That’s why that part of her is shining, because it’s touched so often. People like to make contact with Juliet because they see her as a woman who knows more about love than anyone in the world.’
‘Perhaps that’s true,’ Natasha murmured. ‘But she knows tragedy as well as love.’
Intrigued, she went to stand before the statue. Juliet’s head was turned slightly to the side, gazing into the distance as though only in another world could she find what she sought.
Natasha watched as a woman touched Juliet, closed her eyes and murmured something. At last her eyes opened and she stepped back with a smile, evidently feeling that she had received an answer.
If only it was that simple, Natasha thought. If Juliet really could give me advice I’d ask her about the way my head is whirling, about how I’m feeling, and how I ought to be feeling. But she can’t help me because she doesn’t exist. She never really did, not the way people believe in her. That kind of love is just an illusion.
She turned away to find Mario waiting. He moved closer, leaving Giorgio at a distance, and speaking quietly.
‘Were you consulting Juliet?’ he asked, raising an eyebrow.
‘No,’ she said. ‘She’s a fantasy. Nothing more.’
‘How very prosaic.’
‘I am prosaic, and I’m glad. It’s useful.’
‘But if you’re going to promote the romantic fantasy, shouldn’t you believe in it?’
She surveyed him with her head on one side and a faint ironic smile on her face.
‘Not at all,’ she said. ‘It isn’t necessary to believe something to persuade other people that it’s true.’
‘I wonder if you’re right.’
A flash of anger made her say quickly, ‘You know I’m right. We all know it at heart.’
‘So—’ he hesitated ‘—you’re telling me that you’ve toughened up?’
‘By a mile. So beware.’
‘No need to tell me that.’
‘So I’ve got you worried already? Good.’
For a wild moment he was tempted to tell her of the confused reactions that had rioted in him when he first saw her on the stairs. There had been an incredible moment of pleasure that the sight of her had always brought him, and which even now remained. But it had collided with a sense of alarm, as though a warning bell had sounded, letting him know that she would bring fear and darkness into his life.
But he suppressed the impulse to speak. How satisfied she would be to know that she could still throw him into confusion.
‘Don’t tell me I’m the only one who’s toughened up,’ she challenged him. ‘Haven’t you?’
‘No doubt of it. It’s called survival.’
She nodded. ‘Right. As long as we both understand that, there’s no problem.’
For them there would always be a problem. But there was no need of words.
‘Now, I have a job to do,’ she said briskly.
‘Yes, let’s look around further.’
Suddenly there was a cry from the far side of the courtyard.
‘Buongiorno, amici!’
‘Amadore!’ Giorgio exclaimed, extending his hand in welcome.
The three men exchanged greetings in Italian, until Giorgio said, ‘Signorina, this is Amadore Finucci, a fellow member of the Comunità. Amadore, this is the Signorina Natasha Bates, who doesn’t speak Italian.’
‘Then it will be my pleasure to speak English,’ Amadore said, seizing her hand.
She gave a polite response and he carried her hand to his mouth.
‘Miss Bates,’ he said.
‘Please, call me Natasha.’
‘Thank you—Natasha. When did you arrive?’
‘Yesterday,’ Giorgio said. ‘Your father has invited us to dine at your hotel tonight.’
‘Yes, he told me. I must leave now, but I look forward to seeing you this evening.’
He departed. Natasha