anything but cool.
Drago’s chauffeur was waiting to help her at the airport, smiling as he recognised her and took her bags, and handing her an envelope as she got into the car. As he drove her to the same hotel where she’d stayed last time, she opened it and read:
I would have liked to meet you myself but I’m drowning in formalities. You will wish some time alone this afternoon to rest, and a car will collect you at six o’clock and bring you to my home for dinner. Tina is very much looking forward to seeing you again. And so am I.
Once at the hotel, a shower refreshed her so that she had no need of rest. She wanted to go out and see Florence in the sunshine. It was high summer and everything was different, bathed in sunlight. It was hard to believe that this was the same place she’d seen in February, when the cold and damp had seemed to seep into her bones, and become one with her sadness.
Walking down by the river, she watched the light glinting on the water, and was suddenly assailed by a feeling of irrational joy. She tried to be rational. After all, it was only sun. But she didn’t want to be rational. She wanted to rejoice in the light and let her steps take her where they would.
At first she thought she was wandering aimlessly, but then she admitted the truth-that she was heading for the apartment where James and Carlotta had briefly lived. She found it easily, and it was looking more cheerful now than it had done in winter. From inside came the sound of laughter, a man’s voice, then a woman’s, sounding young and happy.
The man might have been James if fate had been kinder to him. But it had not been kind, she thought, from the depths of her new-found peace.
Turning away, she walked on along the river until she came to the Ponte Vecchio, and went to stand before the statue of Cellini, where James and Carlotta had pledged their love with padlocks along with many others. But there were no padlocks there today. The railings that had once been covered with love tokens were stark and bare.
She heard a sigh and turned to see the proprietor of the shop who’d told her the significance of the padlocks, way back in February-a lifetime ago.
‘What’s happened to them all?’ she asked him. ‘Don’t lovers come here any more?’
‘They do when they dare,’ he said. ‘But the council has ruled against them. If you get caught hanging a padlock there’s a fine, and every now and then they clear them all away.’
‘That’s terrible!’
‘Yes, isn’t it? Ah well, it all brings me new business.’
‘But do people still buy padlocks if they can’t hang them?’
‘Who says they can’t? You don’t think lovers let a few fines put them off, do you? Every single one of them who hung a token there before will be back to hang another one. Good day.’
When he’d bustled away, Alysa stood looking at the bare railings.
‘Not every single one,’ she whispered. ‘I lost a great deal, but I didn’t lose everything.
Again she felt the stirring of pity, and suddenly she knew that there was another place she must see.
A few minutes in a taxi brought her to the Church of All Angels. Like everywhere else it was transformed by the sun, making even the graves look somehow cheerful, especially the monument to Carlotta di Luca, which glowed with a fresh delivery of flowers.
Red roses, Alysa noted: a silent message from Drago that she was still in his heart. She had often wondered if she’d done the right thing in taking the letter, sparing him that pain. Now she thought she had her answer.
At last she wandered over to the far corner where the unimportant graves lay, and there the illusion of cheer was dispelled.
The little slabs had received minimum care. Someone had cut the grass, but casually, so that a fringe of long grass surrounded every slab. Here there were no flowers or tributes. Only the bleakness of indifference. Suddenly James’s lonely end seemed intolerable.
It was very quiet in this corner. She stood looking up at the beauty of the sky, feeling the sun bless her as she had never thought to be blessed again. Overhead a bird began to sing.
‘I don’t hate you,’ she told him sadly. ‘How can I, when it all ended so sadly for you? I wish there was something I could-But perhaps there is. If only I knew how to go about it.’
Then a memory returned to her from the day she’d first come here in February-the young journalist talking about Drago, saying, ‘They say he has the ear of every important person in town, and he pulls strings whenever it suits him.’
Drago, the dear friend whose support had saved her: she could turn to him again. Suddenly decisive, she left the cemetery and hailed a taxi.
For a party in the elegant surroundings of the villa, she guessed that only grandeur would do, and accordingly chose a long dress of dark-blue satin. The neckline was modest for an evening gown, but the narrow waist hugged her figure, and the mirror showed an elegant woman.
A hairdresser from the hotel came to whip her newly grown locks into a confection on her head. A moment to fix the dainty diamond necklace about her neck, adjust a velvet wrap about her shoulders, a last check in the mirror, and it was time to go.
The car was there for her ten minutes early, and to make friendly conversation she congratulated the driver on his punctuality.
‘Signor di Luca came looking for me and demanded to know why I hadn’t gone yet,’ he said with a grin. ‘I told him I still have plenty of time, but he said,
‘I gather he can be a real slave-driver,’ she laughed.
‘He’s been worse recently. It’s like the devil has got into him. Maybe it’s because he had to waste time in hospital. He hated that.’
It might be no more than that, Alysa thought. But she couldn’t help wondering if there might be something else. She would know when she saw him.
Elena was waiting for her on the step as the car drew up.
‘How charming to see you again,’ she said. ‘Drago is detained for the moment, but he’ll be down soon. Let me introduce you to Signorina Leona Alecco. Our families have been friends for years.’
Leona was in her late thirties, slightly heavily built, not pretty, but with an intelligent face that would have been better with less make-up. Her neckline was just too low for her build, and made Alysa glad that she had opted for caution in her own dress.
The same idea might have occurred to Leona, for she gave Alysa a shrewd look, taking in every detail of her glamorous appearance before becoming carefully blank-faced.
‘It’s just a small gathering tonight,’ Elena continued, ushering her inside. ‘Only family and friends. Tomorrow we’ll be inundated with businessmen and really important people.’
She took a glass of wine from the proffered tray and sipped it, looking around at the little gathering. Carlotta’s sister was there again, with her husband and children. Leona seemed practically one of the family. She herself was the only outsider.
But not for long. Tina had spotted her and came scurrying across the floor to seize her hands, beaming upwards as if Alysa was a dear friend.
‘Poppa said you were coming,’ she confided.
Alysa was touched. At their previous meeting she’d still been tormented by her own dead child, and had been unable to be at ease with the little girl. Yet Tina had seemed oblivious, offering her friendship then, and even more now. Alysa felt shamed by such open-hearted generosity. The smile she gave Tina was warm.
‘Who’s your friend?’ she asked, indicating a doll in an elaborate dress that Tina was carrying.
‘Aunt Leona gave it to me.’
‘She’s very pretty,’ Alysa said politely, but Tina pulled a face.
‘She’s too
‘I know what you mean,’ Alysa said at once. ‘I’ve never been frilly myself. I used to prefer making mud pies.’
