The Italian’s Cinderella Bride

couldn’t move.

As it came to a halt, doors were already opening. She searched the faces, looking for Gino’s, but she couldn’t see him. Suddenly she was desperate. How could she have overlooked him when his features were imprinted on her mind? People were beginning to stream past her. She raced to the other end of the platform so that he would have to pass her to leave the station.

Then it was all over. Everyone was gone, and none of them was Gino.

She stood still, pulling herself together, until she could force herself to move to the side where there was a seat. A man in the uniform of a railway employee asked if she was all right.

‘That was the Milan train, wasn’t it?’ she asked.

‘Oh, no, signorina. The Milan train is late today. It should be here in another ten minutes, on the next platform.’

The haze cleared. She was alive again.

She moved to the adjoining platform and, to give herself something to think of, concentrated on a poster advertising the coming carnival, due to start soon. For eleven days the revellers would dance, sing, eat too much, drink too much and indulge in whatever took their fancy. The last day of Carnival was the day before Ash Wednesday, and the pleasure would explode in a riot of extravagant jollity. Then Lent would begin, six weeks of abstinence and self-discipline.

‘It’s not too bad at first,’ Gino had said. ‘You start off so bloated with the things you enjoyed in Carnival that you’re glad to have a rest from them. But then-’ He’d shivered in mock horror.

Last year she’d seen only two days of festivities before it had been time to go home. For those days they had sung and danced and loved. And now it was Carnival again.

But he would be here at any moment. Already she could see the train in the distance, slowly approaching across the causeway. She positioned herself where she couldn’t miss him and waited.

After a few moments the dread began to rise in her again. He wasn’t here. She searched every face but not one of them was his.

But that wasn’t possible. He had said he would be here. She began to run down the platform, desperately seeking the one man who could bring her nightmare to an end. Twice she reached out and stopped someone, but it wasn’t Gino. People turned to stare at her, but she couldn’t give up.

She had reached the end of the train. There was nothing to do but turn and go back, so she did, walking slowly as the full extent of the disaster dawned on her. Now she knew why Pietro had wanted to be with her. He’d known that something like this might happen, and he didn’t want her to face it alone.

She stopped, with no energy to go further. All the defiant courage she had thrown against her troubles had come to nothing. She was no further forward than she had ever been, and she wanted to bang her head against the wall.

But then something made her look up and see the man standing watching her from a distance. He moved towards her and at the same moment she began to run, full of joy and relief, faster and faster until she could see his face clearly and know that it was the one face of all others that she needed at this moment.

He hadn’t failed her. In her heart she had always known that he would be there. A cry broke from her as she ran into Pietro’s arms and felt them close powerfully about her.

CHAPTER NINE

FOR a long time neither moved, just stood still, clasping each other, tightly. Ruth was possessed by a storm of relief. Pietro too was relieved, but also confused and troubled.

He heard her muffled exclamation of, ‘Oh thank goodness! If you hadn’t come I don’t know what I’d have done.’

‘Well, I’m here,’ he said.

He spoke cautiously because he was afflicted by doubt. Did she know which man was holding her? Her joy as she rushed along the shadowy platform, the way she’d hurled herself at him, even her words, all these could have been for Gino as much as for himself. It was vital to know.

‘Ruth,’ he said, his mouth close to her hair. ‘Ruth, look at me.’

‘Give me a moment,’ he heard in a muffled voice. ‘I just want to hold you.’

But he could bear the tension no longer. ‘No, look at me. You must.’

She raised her head, looking at him, and he searched her eyes, waiting for the moment of shock when she recognised him. But it didn’t happen. She was smiling at the sight of his face.

She’d known it was him all the time. The relief was overwhelming.

‘Thank you for coming,’ she said. ‘You were right.’

‘Hasn’t Gino arrived?’ he asked gently.

‘No, that was the Milan train, but he isn’t on it. I suppose he changed his mind. You knew he would, didn’t you?’

‘I guessed it was possible. I just wanted to be here in case he did.’

‘Isn’t it time I stood on my own feet?’ she asked shakily.

‘Even someone standing on their own feet sometimes needs a hand to hold on to.’

From somewhere came the shrill sound of a cell phone. With a groan Pietro reached into his pocket and drew it out. Then he shouted, ‘Gino! Where the hell are you?’

‘Look, I’m sorry,’ came Gino’s tinny voice. ‘Something happened and I missed the train.’

‘You amaze me,’ Pietro said with loathing. ‘So catch the next one.’

‘That’ll have to be tomorrow. Or perhaps the day after. I’ll call you. Look, I’m really sorry-’

‘Like hell you are! I think you should apologise to Ruth yourself.’

But Gino acted fast, so that Pietro heard him hang up before he could hand the phone to Ruth.

Pietro began to swear fiercely. Ruth listened with half her mind, trying to understand that Gino had backed out deliberately, leaving her still stranded in the desert. It was hard when she’d thought that time might be coming to an end. She tried to understand her own feelings but there was only dismay and emptiness.

‘I’m going to murder him,’ Pietro vowed.

‘You’ll have to find him first,’ Ruth said with a wan little smile. ‘I don’t think that’s going to be easy.’

‘Ruth, I’m so sorry. If there was something I could do…’

‘There is,’ she said, going into his arms again. ‘This is as good as a tonic.’

‘Anytime you want.’

He drew her close in a bear hug and hid his face against her hair.

From nearby there was a shout. A cheerful man’s voice yelled, ‘There you are, folks! Wherever you look, there are lovers. That’s Venice for you!’

They ignored this, not realising that it related to them. But suddenly a crowd of young people was streaming around them, giving good-natured whistles.

‘Oh, no!’ Pietro groaned.

There were six youngsters, all in their late teens, wearing funny hats and out for a good time. One young man, just a little older and wearing a jester’s cap, positioned himself to give a lecture, speaking English.

‘A classic example of the species, ladies and gentlemen. He’s come to meet her train, the train is late, they fly into each other’s arms. Love triumphs, as always.’

‘Beat it!’ Pietro told him.

The jester was shocked.

‘Sir, we are here in the spirit of Carnival. In fact, we are spirits of Carnival-’

‘And I’ll bet “spirits” is the right word,’ Ruth declared, trying not to laugh.

‘A small libation to while away the train journey,’ the jester conceded. ‘All right, two small libations, which have merely sharpened our intellect. Now we require only to see the completion of the process-’

‘What completion?’ Pietro demanded.

‘A true love scene ends with a kiss. Only then can we be on our way, seeking new examples of amore.’