moment she reached back for the lottery tickets which were still lying, unnoticed, on the floor.
But when she was alone there was a sense of anti-climax. What was she supposed to do now? Vittorio could have gone in either direction, and even if she turned the right way there were a hundred streets to choose from. She could be wandering for hours.
But at least walking would help calm her temper, which had risen to boiling point. The driver’s slander of Vittorio had caused an explosion inside her, astonishing in its force. What amazed her most was that she discovered how much of it was protectiveness.
He was the last man she would have thought of as needing protection: a hard man, unyielding, unforgiving, confident in his own knowledge and strength, his own power to dominate. That was Vittorio.
But then the need to stand between him and the world’s harsh judgement had come surging out of nowhere, shaking her, making her almost ready to kill to defend him. And suddenly she’d understood how vulnerable he was, more than he knew.
She had rejoiced in the passion that united them. Now she discovered that the longing to protect could be as powerful as desire, and far sweeter.
For the first time she dared to use the word love, and wonder at it. Her life had involved so much falseness, so many games of pretended love, that now she wondered if she could recognise the real thing. She only knew that she could not bear Vittorio to be hurt.
It was for that reason that she stayed there, going from street to street, while the daylight faded and the lamps came on, and all the while her heart was with him, wandering somewhere, tortured by a mixture of hope and despair.
At last she gave up and made her way back to the car. And there he was, sitting on a low wall, his hands clasped between his knees, his head sunk. Angel dropped beside him, slipping an arm around his shoulders.
‘You didn’t catch him?’
He shook his head. His body was trembling and she could feel his exhaustion.
‘Are you sure it was him?’ she asked gently.
Vittorio shook his head.
‘No, I can’t even be sure of that. I see him everywhere, but I never find him. It’s useless, hopeless.’
‘That’s not true. Nothing’s ever completely hopeless,’ she said, knowing how empty the words really were.
He took her hand.
‘I ran off and left you without warning, and you couldn’t even get into the car because I had the key. Why aren’t you angry with me?’
‘I guess I just can’t manage that. Besides, I could have called a taxi.’
‘You should have.’
‘No, I couldn’t go off and leave you alone while you were in trouble.’
He squeezed her hand. ‘You should have done,’ he said. ‘Let the madman wander on his own, until he wises up enough to know that he’s beyond help.’
‘Don’t talk like that.’
‘How else should I talk?’
‘You’re forgetting the lottery. You might win.’
He managed a faint grin. ‘Yes, I suppose I might win, but somehow I don’t think I’ll count on it.’ He gave her a weary smile that broke her heart. ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like to get angry at me?’
‘Not now. I haven’t the energy. Nor have you, from the look of you. When did you last eat?’
He shrugged.
‘There’s a little place over there. Come on.’
Vittorio was almost too tired to move, but Angel took charge, drawing him firmly to his feet and towards the little trattoria. They managed spaghetti, wine and coffee. They didn’t speak. She would gladly have talked but she could tell that he was silent not only because he was tired, but because he was exhausted to the point of emptiness. It was as if he had been hollowed out inside, leaving only a barely functioning shell. So she left him in peace.
‘I’ll drive you home,’ Vittorio said at last.
‘You’re not driving anywhere tonight,’ Angel said. ‘Tell me where you live. I’m going to take you there. You need to collapse, and the sooner the better.’
‘No,’ he said at once. ‘Not there.’
‘Then I’ll take you back to the estate.’
‘And sleep in your room? The
‘Then you can have a room of your own. You should have one anyway, so that you don’t have to come all the way back here when you’ve been working late, which you often do, and…’
The words died at the look he gave her.
‘You are offering me a room in that house? A temporary room, of course, and only when the work justifies it.’
‘Don’t,’ she whispered. ‘Please don’t.’
His shoulders sagged. ‘I’m sorry. It’s unforgivable of me to take it out on you, especially when you’re being so kind. I know that, but I do it anyway, and I probably can’t stop. I warned you.’
‘Warning duly noted,’ she said tenderly. ‘Now, you’re tired, and I’m taking you home.’
He gave a faint, wry smile. ‘Which home is that?’
‘The one here in Amalfi, because it’s nearest and you need to get to bed. No more argument. It’s settled.’
‘Giving me orders?’
‘Yes.’
‘And if I refuse to give you the address?’
For an answer, Angel simply laid her hand over his, looking at him tenderly.
‘All right,’ he said.
There was no pleasure in her small victory. The cost to him was too high.
Following his directions, she found her way to a tiny, narrow street, and even in the semi-darkness she could see enough to dismay her. Berta had warned her of the worst, and the worst was true. Inside she found the meanest rooms in the meanest house in the meanest street.
Somehow the atmosphere was even more depressing with the light on. There was one main room, which doubled as bedroom and living room, with a tiny alcove that did duty as a kitchen, and a bathroom that looked like a converted cupboard.
The man who had once owned the Villa Tazzini now lived here. No wonder he’d been ashamed for her to see it. She wondered if he would have more bitter words, but he only looked at her without speaking.
‘You should go,’ he said. ‘I’ll call a taxi.’
She shook her head. ‘I’m not leaving you alone tonight.’
He managed a half-smile, full of wry defeat. ‘I’m good for nothing now.’
‘I didn’t mean that. I want us to talk.’ She took him by the shoulders. ‘We never have talked. We’ve fought and quarrelled and loved, but never simply talked as friends.’
‘Friends?’
‘We said once we were friends. We have to be that, too. Don’t you see?’
A gentle push made him sit down on the narrow bed. He didn’t speak at first, and she had to prompt him.
‘You told me about Leo, the friend who cheated you, but you didn’t say much about him. It doesn’t sound like you to be taken in, even by a friend.’
‘I trusted him totally. I’d known him all my life. Years ago we got into mischief together, courted the same girls and compared notes later.’
‘Shocking,’ Angel said fondly.
‘True. I was a rather disreputable character in those days.’
‘You and every young man who’s ever lived. I’d have liked to know you in your disreputable days.’
‘You wouldn’t. I was a rogue,’ he replied.
‘But I thought you devoted your whole life to running the estate. You made yourself sound like a positive puritan.’
‘If I did, I lied. I worked hard, but I had my fun. My father had to bail me out a few times.’
