But there was more here than simply malnutrition and weariness. She looked like someone on the edge of sanity, and he was sure of it when she began to murmur words that made no sense.
‘I shouldn’t have come-I knew it was a mistake, but there was nothing else to do-he’s the only one who can tell me-but maybe it doesn’t matter-only I have to know. I can’t bear it any longer, not knowing.’
‘Signorina-’
‘Do you know what that’s like? To wonder and wonder when there’s nobody who can help you-and you think you may spend all your life in the shadows?’
Without his realising, his hands tensed on her shoulders.
‘Yes,’ he breathed. ‘I know what that’s like.’
‘It doesn’t end, does it?’
‘No,’ he said gravely, ‘it doesn’t end.’
Pietro closed his eyes, feeling the waves of suffering engulf him again. He’d thought he’d learned to cope, but she brought it back because she was abandoned in the same desert. He could sense her there, her gaze fixed on him, one lost soul reaching out to another.
‘What can you do about it?’ she asked.
‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘I’ve never known.’
The look she turned on him was terrible, containing a despairing acceptance of something too sad for words.
‘How did you get here?’ he urged.
She looked around. ‘Here?’
‘You’re in Venice. I found you standing in the street outside, just looking up.’
‘I don’t remember.’
‘Never mind, tell me later.’
He returned from the kitchen after a few minutes to find her looking down at her strange attire with dismay.
‘I had to take your clothes off,’ he said quickly. ‘You were sodden. But I swear I didn’t-well-you know-’
To his total astonishment, she smiled.
‘I know,’ she said.
‘You do believe me?’
‘Yes, I believe you. Thank you.’
‘Come and sit down at the table.’
As she came out of the shadows into the light he had a feeling that there was something familiar about her, but he couldn’t place it. He must be mistaken. He wouldn’t have forgotten this girl.
He ushered her to a chair, drawing it out for her and saying, ‘When did you last eat?’
‘I’m not sure. I missed breakfast because I was late, and had to dash. I was too nervous to eat at the airport, or on the plane. The storm was just getting really bad as we landed. I got so scared that I sat in the airport for an hour.’
‘Don’t you have a hotel? I know it can be hard to find one at this time of year. A lot of them close.’
‘Oh, no, I came straight here.’
‘To the Palazzo Bagnelli? Why?’
‘I thought Gino might be here.’
‘Gino Falzi?’
She brightened. ‘You do know him?’
‘Yes, I know him well, but-’
‘Does he still live here? Is he here now?’
‘No,’ he said slowly.
Pietro was getting warning signals that filled him with apprehension.
Gino’s mother had once been the Bagnelli family’s cook, living on the premises with her son. The lads had grown up good friends despite the six years between them. Gino was light-hearted, delightful company, and Pietro, the elder and more serious-minded, had found in him a much-needed release.
‘You should laugh more,’ Gino often chided him. ‘Come on, have some fun.’
And Pietro had laughed, following his scape-grace friend into his latest mad adventure, from which he usually had to extract him. Gino had a butterfly mind, which made it hard for him to settle to steady employment, although he had finally found a niche in the tourist firm that Pietro owned, where his charm made him a knockout with the customers.
It also made him a risk-taker, walking a fine line between acceptable behaviour and going a bit too far. Pietro knew that Gino loved to impress the girls by pretending that he came from the aristocratic Bagnelli family, and although he disapproved it also made him shrug wryly. It was just Gino amusing himself.
Now he was beginning to worry that Gino had amused himself in a way that might bring tragedy.
‘Can you tell me where he is?’ she asked.
‘He’s off travelling at the moment. He works for me in a tourist firm I own, and he’s exploring new places.’
‘But he’ll be home soon?’ she asked with a hint of eagerness that both touched and worried him.
‘No, he’s on a long trip, finding places where I can mount tours.’
‘I see,’ she said with a little sigh.
Pietro asked his next question carefully.
‘Does Gino know you well?’
At first he thought she hadn’t heard, so long did she take to reply. Then she shook her head.
‘No,’ she said. ‘He won’t know me. Nobody knows me any more. I don’t know myself, or anybody else. I know who I was then-’
‘Then?’ he queried gently. ‘When was that?’
‘About a year ago-or perhaps a little more. I’ve got the date written down somewhere-’ She saw his troubled face and gave a half smile that was oddly charming. ‘I sound quite mad, don’t I?’
‘I don’t think you’re mad at all,’ he said firmly.
‘You could be wrong about that. I’ve been in a special home for-well, most of the last year. Now I’m trying to find my way back into the world, only I don’t do it very well.’
‘Then it’s lucky you found a safe place, and a friend,’ he said.
‘How can you be my friend when you don’t know who I am? Whoever I was then, I’m someone else now. I just don’t know who.’
‘You must know your name or how could you travel?’
‘My name is Ruth Denver.’
A spoon fell out of Pietro’s hand and hit the terrazzo floor with a ping. Cursing his own clumsiness, he leaned down to pick it up, glad of the chance to hide his face, lest it reveal his shock at hearing the name Ruth Denver.
When he looked up again he was in control and able to say calmly, ‘My name is Pietro Bagnelli.’
‘Gino’s cousin?’ she exclaimed, her eyes suddenly glowing. ‘He told me a lot about you, how you grew up together.’
‘We’ll talk some more in the morning,’ he interrupted her hastily. ‘You’ll be better when you’ve slept.’
He was becoming more disturbed every moment, and needed to be alone to do some thinking before he talked further. If she was who he was beginning to believe she was, he needed to tread with care.
‘I’ll get a room ready for you,’ he said. Pausing at the door, he added, ‘Don’t go away.’
She regarded him quizzically, and he realised he sounded crazy. Where could she go? But he had a strange feeling that if he took his eyes off her she might vanish into thin air.
‘I promise not to disappear,’ she said with a glimmer of humour that was evident even through her distress.
‘Just to make sure you don’t-Toni, on guard.’
The huge mutt came forward and laid his head on Ruth’s knee.
‘Stay like that, both of you, until I get back,’ Pietro said.
In the next room there was a couch that could be turned into a bed. He made it up, his mind in turmoil. What was happening was impossible. There was no way that this could be Ruth Denver.
