Married Under the Italian Sun

‘Berta’s prepared you a special meal,’ he told her.

‘Stay and eat it with me.’

She smiled over dinner and made cheerful conversation. Vittorio waited for her to talk about Sam, ready to do anything she wanted, but she seemed determined to avoid the subject.

She’d wept over Sam’s death, but then dried her tears quickly, and had not cried again, even at the funeral. It struck Vittorio as unnatural. She’d loved Sam more than anyone, but now it was as though she’d made a decision to control her feelings.

At the funeral he’d thought how lovely she looked, being one of those women whose beauty was enhanced by black. But a shadow had settled over her face, and he guessed that it was there for ever now.

He took some plates out to Berta and when he returned Angel was no longer there. Instinct took him into Sam’s room, and there he found her, in semi-darkness, looking around at the emptiness.

‘I took such trouble to make everything perfect for him,’ she said huskily. ‘And he was here such a little time. I used to dream of our life, how I’d look after him, how close we’d be when I could really be with him instead of having to give Joe all my time.

‘And then it was all over, and he died without knowing me. That’s the bit I can’t bear. I kept thinking we’d be close at the end, but he just asked who I was. Then he died, not knowing me.’

‘He was a very sick man at the end-it doesn’t mean he didn’t really know you-’

‘But it does,’ she cried, her brave surface collapsing suddenly. ‘He died a stranger, and I can’t bear it.’

He pulled her into his arms, knowing that no words could help. It might be illogical that a few moments could count more with her than the happier times that had gone before, but he knew that logic had nothing to do with it.

He held her, stroking her hair and rocking slightly, until her sobs subsided. Then he said softly, ‘Come to bed, and let’s be together.’

Soon it would be the time for harvest. Every day they went along the tiers of lemons so that he could caress the fruit and sense through his skin when the right moment would be.

‘Perhaps ten days,’ Vittorio said once.

‘It looks ripe to me.’

‘But not to me. Trust me. Ten days. It’ll be a fine harvest, and profitable.’

Angel longed for the harvest to be over. There were so many questions about the future, but they must wait until the work was done.

She knew what she wanted. Him. Always. It wasn’t just the passion that made her body sing. That was wonderful, but she needed more. And he had given her more. Since Sam’s collapse he had shown her all the tender consideration of a husband, always at her service, asking nothing for himself. Now she no longer doubted either her love or his.

It had to be marriage. To go on as they were, with him as her employee, was impossible. His pride would forbid it. But as her husband he would regain his rightful place as master of the estate. It was very simple, really. She had only to find the right time to ask him. For she guessed that the suggestion of marriage must come from her. That was another matter where his pride would prove awkward. But she no longer had any doubts that things would work out well for them. The way ahead was clear.

There was a brief interruption in the form of a phone call from a man called Gino Tradini, which she found almost completely incomprehensible.

‘He seems to be a customer for our lemons, but he’s decided not to buy any more,’ Angel told Vittorio. ‘At least, I think that’s what he said.’

He grinned. ‘Is he up to his tricks again? Don’t let him worry you. It’s nothing but a con trick to get the price down. He tries it on every year. Doubtless he thought he could fool you because you’re new to the business.’

‘Perhaps you should deal with him.’

‘I will. But I’d better go and see him, and it’ll mean being away for two days. He’s some distance away.’

‘Well, if it’s the only way…’

‘I’ll go tomorrow.’

‘Let’s have an evening out first. There’s a little fish restaurant in town that I’ve always wanted to go to.’

They dined on the waterfront, seated at the window where they could see the boats bobbing in the darkness.

‘You look better tonight,’ he said, smiling. ‘More cheerful.’

‘It’s been so quiet and peaceful these last few days. You did that. You’ve left me nothing to worry about.’

‘Good. That’s how I want you to be. Don’t fret about Tradini. I know how to handle his nonsense.’

‘You told me once that I needed you on the estate, and I wouldn’t listen. Now I know how true that was. What would I do if you went away?’

‘That’s not likely-unless you fire me?’

‘No, I’m not going to do that. You might decide to leave.’

In silence Vittorio shook his head. He was looking at her with a smile of perfect understanding, and, with a surge of excitement, Angel knew that the moment had come.

‘We could make it work, couldn’t we?’ she said, almost pleading. ‘We’ve had so many difficulties in our way, but we’ve managed to put them aside. It’s the future that matters.’

‘Did you have any particular future in mind?’ he asked carefully.

‘Oh, yes, I have something very particular in mind.’

She looked at him with a question in her eyes, hoping that he would make it easy for her, but, still understanding her without words, he shook his head.

‘You’re not going to help me, are you?’ she asked, almost laughing, so sure she was of her victory.

Again he shook his head, but now he too was on the verge of laughter.

‘I can’t,’ he said. ‘You might not be going to say what I hope you’re going to say, and then think what a fool I’d look.’

‘Couldn’t you risk looking a fool, just for me?’

‘Nope! You take the risk.’

It was no risk at all, and they both knew it. He was hers as completely as she could ever want.

‘Do you want me to go down on one knee?’ she teased.

Then he really did laugh, reaching forward and taking her hands to draw them to his lips.

‘If you’re sure,’ he said. ‘You were right about the problems, but-’

‘We’ll find the way around them.’

‘Yes, we will. I know that now. If only-’

A crack of laughter interrupted him. Looking round, they saw a beefy young man standing there regarding them sardonically. Vittorio cursed under his breath, recognising Mario, the young lout who had taunted him in the shop the day he’d collected the magazine.

‘Oh, it’s you,’ he said wearily. ‘Go away!’

‘Why should I go? The entertainment around here is great. I don’t know when I’ve had such a laugh.’

‘Do you know him?’ Angel asked.

‘I employed him once, and fired him for being useless,’ Vittorio said.

‘Just a little misunderstanding,’ Mario said. ‘I’m not clever, like you.’ He regarded both of them, and his mouth twisted in a sneer. ‘You managed it, then. That’s really clever.’

‘What are you talking about?’ Angel asked.

‘You don’t know? Signora, this man is a clever operator. He knew what he had to do to get his property back, and he did it. Just how long did it take him to wheedle his way into your bed, and how long-?’

The last words were choked off by Vittorio’s hands around his throat. It took three men to pull him off.

Mario got to his feet, gasping. ‘You’ll be sorry for that,’ he choked.

‘Get out,’ somebody said. ‘How long do you think we can hold him?’

Mario fled.

‘All right, let me go,’ Vittorio snapped.

Cautiously they released him. His face was deadly pale, but he was in command of himself now.

‘Let’s go,’ he said. ‘Where’s the bill?’