‘Don’t go,’ he said quickly. ‘I have a spare room.’ He smiled briefly. ‘I’m afraid you might not come back.’
‘I’ll come back tomorrow if you want me to.’
‘No, stay. There’s a lot more I want to ask you. And don’t worry-you’re quite safe. I won’t do anything that would bring Brian’s wrath down on my head.’
Of course not. Because she wasn’t the right woman. She was a lot safer than she wanted to be.
Polly called the villa, spoke to Hope and found, as she’d expected, that Matti was safely in bed.
‘Not that it was easy,’ Hope complained. ‘My husband was playing with him and they were like two babies together. I had to get firm with both of them.’
Polly chuckled. ‘All right. I’ll leave well alone.’
‘You stay there and take care of the other one,’ Hope said enigmatically.
‘Don’t worry. I will.’
Ruggiero showed her the room.
‘I’ve got a shirt if you need something to wear,’ he said.
‘Thanks, but I have everything I need.’ She pointed to her bag.
‘But I thought-’
‘A good nurse always comes prepared. I could do with some tea.’
‘Yes, Nurse.’
She came out a few minutes later to find the tea ready, along with a snack of ham and melon. While they ate she entertained him with tales of the childhood she and Sapphire had shared. It was easier to make her cousin sound sympathetic this way, for in those days her charm had yet to develop its ruthless edge.
Ruggiero laughed at some of the stories and sat contentedly through the rest, sometimes nodding, as if to say that this was what he’d waited to hear.
It was one in the morning before she yawned and said, ‘Enough for now.’
‘Forgive me for keeping you up so late. And thank you.’
He laid a gentle hand on her arm, nodded, and left her.
Polly put on her pyjamas and got into bed, sitting up and staring into the darkness with her hands clasped around her knees. She had a vague feeling of disappointment that she could not explain.
Sapphire was there in her head-so vivid that Polly could almost see her.
‘Now do you get it?’ she said contemptuously. ‘All he wants is the pretty fantasy. Which means he’s chosen me.’
‘He needs more time. He’ll face the truth later.’
‘How, when you’re never going to tell it to him? He doesn’t want to hear it. He’s not brave enough.’
‘That’s true,’ Polly agreed sadly.
‘Then I’ve won.’
‘I guess you have.’
Sapphire gave her luxurious, self-satisfied smile.
‘Oh, push off!’ Polly said crossly.
Sapphire vanished.
She lay down, listening to the soft sounds of night-time life coming from the harbour until at last she fell asleep.
She was awoken by a hand shaking her gently but urgently. Staring into the gloom, she saw Ruggiero, looking urgently into her face.
‘Polly, please wake up.’
She pulled herself up, using him for support, then rubbed her eyes.
‘I’ll set Brian onto you,’ she said through a yawn.
‘No need. That’s not what I’m here for.’
That was the story of her life. This dangerously attractive man appeared in her room, sitting on her bed, and was she wearing a sexy nightie? No way. She was in austere pyjamas with sensible buttons that came up high. She checked to see if the top button had come undone, but it hadn’t. She never had any luck.
‘It’s all right, you’re decent,’ he said, seeing the gesture and misunderstanding it. ‘Don’t worry.’
‘I wasn’t,’ she sighed. ‘Ruggiero, what’s happened?’
In the darkness she knew that he was glaring.
‘Let’s say I’ve finally come to my senses,’ he said harshly.
‘What-exactly-do you mean?’
‘Do you need to ask? Haven’t you been waiting for me to let go of the damned fool fantasy and get real?’
He switched on her bedside light and showed her the album that he’d put on the bed before waking her.
‘Here,’ he said.
The book was open at a large, glossy picture of the bride and groom, standing just outside the church. The photographer had been an expert, and had caught every unappealing detail about the groom-including the fact that he was a good thirty years older than his bride, and at least five stone overweight.
Even that might not have mattered. Many an ugly man had won a woman’s heart with love and kindness. But George Ranley’s overflowing jowls showed only the greasy self-satisfaction of a man who was selfish, greedy, demanding, suspicious and thoroughly unpleasant.
‘Look at her.’
Ruggiero pointed to where the bride was regarding her new husband with a look of adoration. ‘Did you ever see so much love in a woman’s face?’
‘No,’ Polly said cautiously.
‘For that thing?’ he asked, pointing contemptuously at George. ‘The man’s a pig, but she’s looking at him like he’s a god.’
‘Well, it was their wedding. A bride is expected to…’ Polly’s voice faltered.
‘It was an act,’ he said. ‘I wonder what she was really thinking at that moment.’
‘Ruggiero-’
‘Just as I wonder what she was thinking when she looked at me like that,’ he finished quietly.
Polly was silent. There was nothing to say. After a while he spoke again, in a voice full of anguish.
‘That was the look she wore for me-the look of a woman who’s totally besotted with a man. And he believes it while what she’s really thinking is that she’s got the poor sap just where she wants him.’
Her heart ached. She’d wanted him to see the truth, but now it was happening she couldn’t bear the hurt it would cause him.
‘I expect he had a lot of money,’ Ruggiero mused, almost casually.
‘He was a multimillionaire.’
‘Those jewels on her head? Real diamonds?’
‘Nothing less. George had seized them back from his third wife.’
‘Third?’
‘Sapphire was the fourth.’
‘Go on. Tell me the rest-and don’t sugar it.’
‘He desperately wanted a son, and none of the other wives had ever got pregnant. He wouldn’t admit that there might be a problem with himself, and kept divorcing them as “use-less”.’
‘Sapphire-Freda-didn’t want to be divorced, so when he was away for a couple of weeks she went to London to find someone who would give her a child that she could pass off as his.’
‘So she went cruising the bars, looking for a suitable candidate?’ he said bitterly. ‘I just happened to be there. How did I come to pull the short straw?’
‘Your colouring is the same as George’s used to be before he went bald, so he’d have been easier to convince. And when she discovered that you’d soon be leaving England it was a plus.’
He winced. A long time seemed to pass before he asked, in a low voice, ‘She never cared for me at all, did she? Be honest, Polly.’
‘I don’t think she did.’
‘I was just useful,’ he said slowly, as though spelling it out would help him understand. ‘When I’d served my purpose I was surplus to requirements. All that mystery that seemed so exotic and romantic was just an efficient way to make sure I couldn’t spoil things by following her.’
