won’t stand for that?’
‘I’d better leave,’ he snapped. ‘You have a phone call to make.’
‘You’re right. Good night.’
As he departed she was already lifting the phone.
The conversation that followed was long, complex, and took all her skill to bring to a successful conclusion. She was left with a sense of triumph in her achievement, but also a sad awareness of the price she’d paid.
When she’d hung up the apartment seemed suddenly empty. It wasn’t just the fact that she was alone. She was used to that. But there was a special quality to this aloneness, as though Francesco’s anger was still imprinted on the air, still reproaching her with his absence.
It might have been so different, she thought despondently.
She undressed, settled Jacko down and got into bed, still aching with the yearning for what had nearly happened. She lay for a long time, wondering if nothing was truly all there would ever be.
A sound from the floor reminded her that she wasn’t truly alone after all.
‘Are you all right?’ she asked Jacko, reaching down to touch him. ‘You sound sad, poor old boy. Come up and join me, and we can be sad together.’
He nuzzled her hand, but otherwise didn’t move.
‘Come on,’ she urged. ‘Jump up on the bed with me. Never mind what they said at Guide Dog School about not getting on the furniture. I want you up here, where I can cuddle you.’
His mind relieved, he hopped onto the bed and snuggled against her. Celia buried her face against his warm fur.
‘What would I do without you?’ she murmured. ‘You’re the only real friend I have. You don’t talk nonsense like him-or like me. You don’t give me orders or try to control me and you understand everything without being told.’
His tongue flickered against her cheek and she smiled.
‘Mmm! Do that again! That’s nice. Thank you. You’re beautiful. Everyone says so, and I know you are.’
They lay awhile in companionable silence while she stroked him.
‘Shall I tell you a secret?’ she asked after a while. ‘I couldn’t do it without my dogs. First Max, when I was a little girl, then Wicksy, now you. I go on a lot about my independence, but the truth is that it all depends on my furry friends. Don’t tell on me, will you?’
He nudged her with his nose.
‘Thanks. I knew I could rely on you. You see, without you I’d fall into the hands of a control freak like Francesco. I can only fight him by being as awkward as possible-and if there’s one thing I do know about it’s being awkward-but I can’t do that without you there to prop up the illusion.’
She sighed despondently.
‘Listen to me, talking about fighting him. I don’t want to fight him. I want to love him. I call him a control freak, but he isn’t really. It’s just something that makes him act that way. I don’t understand it, and I don’t think he does. I still love him. I wish I didn’t, but you can’t just turn it off, can you?’
He gave a sad whine of agreement.
‘Was I very stupid to come here?’ she asked him. ‘It seemed so easy when I planned it. If I could only meet him on his own ground we might start again and get it right this time. Now I wonder if that can ever happen. Tonight I even hoped-It was going so well. I was remembering how much I love him, and why. When he kissed me it was just like before, and I wanted him so much. Suddenly it seemed a hundred years since we last made love, and I couldn’t wait for it to happen again. All the things that came between us didn’t matter any more, as long as I could belong to him and know that he belonged to me. Oh, Jacko, we were that close-that close-If only-’
She sighed, forcing herself down to earth.
‘But then Sandro phoned and it was like time had rolled back. Francesco became the man I hate, taking control, barking orders. Everything has to be done his way, and I can’t bear that. And then I was glad that the call came in time to stop us making love. Yes, I was. I was glad-really, really glad.’
Jacko pressed closer, giving her cheek a soft nudge of sympathy. He knew a lie when he heard one.
Francesco didn’t contact Celia next day, but Olympia did. She spent the afternoon being escorted around the factory, making verbal notes, and was then swept off to the apartment where Olympia lived with her husband, Primo Rinucci.
As she was working on the evening meal and chatting to Celia in the kitchen, the phone rang.
‘Tell him to come over here,’ Primo said from the doorway. ‘We’ll mull the ideas over together.’
Then Olympia, talking into the phone, ‘Come and join us for supper-Oh, nonsense! You can’t have that much to do-’
Celia deciphered this without trouble. After last night, Francesco didn’t want to come where he would meet her. And he was right, she told herself firmly. Everything was falling apart again and he was wise to avoid her.
‘Besides,’ Olympia was saying, ‘you introduced us to Celia, so you must come and hear how your protegee is doing. I’ll lay another place. No argument. Get moving.’
She hung up.
‘Does your brother ever stop working?’ she complained to Primo.
‘He took yesterday evening off for the party,’ Celia said lightly. ‘You can’t expect him to rest for two evenings in a row. You know how driven he is about business.’
‘Not really,’ Primo said. ‘He went abroad ten years ago, and stayed there until recently. None of us knows him really well.’
‘Why did he go?’ Celia asked.
‘I’m not sure, but he was never at home much even before that. He travelled all over Italy, working a year here, a year there, always making money. He has the devil’s touch about that. Then he’d get fed up and come back, only to leave again. At last he went to America, stayed there until three years ago, then went to England. I don’t know why he wanders so much-what he’s looking for. But maybe you can tell. You must know him better than anyone.’
‘No,’ Celia said, shaking her head. ‘I don’t really know him at all.’
Half an hour later there was a ring on the bell and Primo went to answer, returning with Francesco and Carlo.
‘We met in the street,’ Francesco announced.
‘I just came to say hallo,’ Carlo said, giving Celia a peck on the cheek.
‘Stay for supper,’ Olympia said.
‘I can’t. Della will be home soon,’ Carlo explained, naming his wife, a television producer, who’d been forced to take a long rest owing to poor health.
‘She’s trying to take up the reins again,’ he said, ‘and she’s gone to look at a place with a history that’s given her an idea for a programme. She’ll be expecting to find me at home.’
‘Call her,’ Primo said. ‘Tell her to come here instead.’
While they argued about it Francesco sat beside Celia and said quietly, ‘I gather things went well today?’
‘Yes, I drummed up lots of business. There was a man there who’d come to sign a contract from another firm. He’s booked me for an assessment visit, too, and he says he knows several other people who’d be interested. I’m going great guns.’
‘I’m glad you’re a success. Is Sandro pleased?’
‘This has nothing to do with Sandro. Giving advice in the workplace is exclusively mine. Follia Per Sempre is another firm. I told you, Sandro and I don’t do sensible.’
‘Ah, yes, Sandro and you!’ he said wryly.
‘What does that mean?’
‘It means what it sounds as though it means. It means that when he called last night you abandoned everything else.
‘Some men are easy to forget.’
