Not Just a Convenient Marriage. Lucy Gordon
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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,