Elise turned away, putting her hands over her ears, but he followed, turning her forcibly, pulling her hands down and holding her.
‘Let me go!’
She struggled but his grip on her wrists was vicious.
‘No, you’re going to listen to me.’ He released her hands but imprisoned her again by putting both arms around her and holding her hard against his chest.
‘This time you don’t get away with blocking it out,’ he rasped.
‘You’re going to hear the truth and live with it, and I hope it destroys you for life, as it’s destroyed other people. Are you listening?’
‘Yes,’ she whispered.
‘Angelo had driven that road a hundred times, even in the dark, and never had an accident before. So why that night? Maybe he did it deliberately, or maybe he was so wretched that he didn’t notice what he was doing. Either way, it’s your doing.’
He stopped, still holding her. His mouth was so close that she could feel his hot breath, as so often in the past when they had embraced. But this time there was only hatred and his desire to hurt her.
She twisted her head away as far as possible so that he couldn’t see the tears pouring down her cheeks, but he took her chin, raising it so that he could look into her face, and the tears fell over his hand.
He released her as if stung, and she had to stagger to stop herself falling. Blinded by misery, she didn’t see the quick, supportive movement of his hand towards her, a movement that he checked at once.
‘I meant to say all this long ago,’ he said. ‘I should have done, but I weakened for a while because you have your attractions. But, in the end, nothing has really changed. We were always headed for this place.’
She stared at him and forced herself to speak calmly through the thunder of her heart. ‘Nice to get everything clear,’ she said.
‘Exactly.’
‘I want you to leave, Vincente.
He hesitated for a moment and she thought he was about to refuse. But then he made a gesture of resignation and walked out.
When he’d gone Elise stood in the centre of the apartment in a daze, not moving, listening to the silence which seemed to roar in her ears. After a while she began to wander around but not with any purpose, just going here and there without seeing where.
What did you do when your life had crashed into a stone wall?
At last her steps took her to her bedroom where she undressed like an automaton, got into bed and lay staring into the darkness.
Angelo seemed to be there, looking at her with love and reproach. He had loved her, and she’d caused his death. Vincente had been right about that. However it had happened, she had killed him.
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered to him. ‘I’m so sorry.’
But the reproach was still there in his eyes, and she knew they would haunt her for the rest of her life. The truth would destroy her, as Vincente hoped. And she couldn’t even blame him.
Hours passed. Only half realising, she was listening for the phone to ring, but there was only silence.
When morning came she was still awake, still in the same position. She wanted to weep but couldn’t. Her heart was frozen.
She managed to get up long enough to splash some water on her face and make some tea. But after one cup she lost interest and returned to bed. She was shivering now and couldn’t stop, although the day was warm.
She tried to sleep but there was no escape from the images chasing themselves around her brain in a merciless circle. Angelo had faded now, but there was no relief because his place was taken by Vincente and his deception that had undermined everything, poisoning each memory, leaving her with nothing.
With a sense of horror she recalled their very first meeting, when Vincente had seemed to defend her against Mary by mounting a subtle attack.
The words had seemed a clever device but now they returned, imbued with a hideous new meaning.
Vincente had sought her out, hating her for what he took to be her heart of stone, looking forward to a ‘justice’ too long delayed. And his words had been a threat and a warning, if only she could have seen it.
Now there was a hard pain inside her where her heart should have been. It was growing every moment despite her attempts to hold it back. But she was stronger now. She knew the truth, so logically there was no cause for weeping. She would hold on to that thought and make her plans to leave this place, so that she need never see him again.
But the words dissolved into thin air while the pain grew and grew until at last a cry that was almost a scream broke from her, and after that nothing would hold back the sobs.
Elise didn’t know how long she wept, but at some point she fell asleep and when she opened her eyes it was light. Tears were still pouring down her cheeks and she wondered if she’d cried as she slept.
‘But no more,’ she muttered. ‘I’ll never cry for him again. That’s finished. Everything is finished.’
Soon she would get up and resume her normal life. But the minutes passed and she didn’t move. She wondered if she would ever move again.
Another day and night passed like this. Distantly she could hear the traffic from the road outside, but there was no other sound. The phone never rang. She felt dead. Her heart was dead, her body was dead. Only her brain lived and it was full of scorn for herself and how easily she’d been deluded.
The signs had been there from the start. On the first evening she’d even jokingly accused him of coming for revenge, and his startled reaction should have warned her that something was amiss. But she’d been too deluded by her attraction to him to heed the signs.
And when he’d returned, months later, she’d told herself that he was as attracted to her as she to him-that was why he couldn’t stay away.
Fool! Idiot!
From outside she could hear the rain begin, growing louder as it turned into a thunderstorm. She could hear the water pounding against the window and it seemed to blend with her tears, which wouldn’t stop. She fell asleep again, but the storm pursued her so that the thunder and lightning became part of her own grief. When she awoke she had the feeling that she’d slept the clock round, perhaps twice. She no longer knew anything.
At last she managed to stand up and make her way to the kitchen, where she poured herself some mineral water, but suddenly she become nauseous and ran for the bathroom.
After so long without food, all she could do was heave helplessly, but at last it stopped and she managed to get back to the kitchen and make some tea. The hot liquid soothed her insides, giving her a brief rush of energy.
She needed to get out of this echoing place where his malign ghost seemed to mock her. Anywhere would do. Another cup of hot tea strengthened her enough for her to dress and leave the building. She found that it was later than she’d thought, with the light already fading as she made her way along the street.
Elise was vaguely aware that people were looking at her but she didn’t care. Lights swirled about her, traffic roared in her ears, but she had only one thought. She must get to the Trevi Fountain. Angelo was waiting for her there, and there was something she must say to him. He’d waited too long to hear it, and if she delayed he might be gone and never hear the words-if only she could remember what they were.
She quickened her pace, turning across the road in the direction she was sure led to the fountain. But halfway across she became confused. A huge truck was bearing down on her. There were shouts and screaming from the side of the road, and the next moment she was lying unconscious on the ground.
CHAPTER NINE
FOR four days Vincente’s staff had been regarding him nervously. He arrived early, stayed late and worked with a face like thunder. He spoke briefly, seemed impatient of company and seemed abnormally conscious of the telephone.
