laugh enough.’
‘I laugh a lot with you.’
‘But not at other times. I wonder why.’
‘You don’t know what I’m like at other times.’
‘I think I do. Something tells me that you’re a too-serious person.’ He touched her arm lightly. ‘You let yourself get burned because you’re not used to spending time in the sun. That’s not just true of your body. Your mind and spirit aren’t used to the sunshine.’
She was about to tell him that this was nonsense, when she was overwhelmed by the sense of its truth. Watching her, he saw the dawning of comprehension in her face.
‘Why?’ he said. ‘It’s not just because of the man who broke your heart.’
‘No, it’s not,’ she said slowly.
Her mind was ranging back over a sea of memories. How old had she been when she’d sensed that her family lived on a knife-edge? When had she started doing the sums for her father? He’d never been able to add, perhaps because the truth was too frightening to know.
She’d been fifteen when she’d cried- ‘Dad, you can’t afford it. You’re in so much debt already.’
‘Then a little more can’t hurt, can it? C’mon sweetie, don’t pull a long face.’
A charmer, her father. But a selfish charmer who’d taught her the meaning of fear without ever knowing it. She’d built her own defences, working hard at school, promising herself a brilliant career. But it hadn’t happened. She’d ended up without a single exam pass, because a run of ill luck had convinced her father of the need for a long stay abroad. When they returned a year later her chance had passed. So she’d found a job where she could live on her wits, because in the end, they were all she had.
‘Tell me,’ he begged, his eyes on her face.
‘No,’ she said quickly. This tale of poverty wasn’t for him. ‘You’re right, I’ve been too serious.’
‘Maybe it’s time to put on another mask. Perhaps you should be Columbine. She’s a sensible person, but she’s also sharp and witty, and can see life’s funny side.’
‘Which one is she?’
The mask he took down was painted silver, adorned with sequins and tiny coloured feathers. He fitted it gently over her face and tied the satin ribbons behind.
‘What do you think?’ she asked, regarding herself in the mirror. Almost all her face was covered, with only her mouth showing.
To her surprise he shook his head. ‘No, I don’t think so.’
‘Why? I like it. Shall I try another?’
‘No. Somehow I don’t think masks are right for you. Not you. Well, not this one. She’s charming, but she’s also a deceiver, and you could never be that. Look at the sequins, how they flash and catch a different light every time. That’s Columbine, but it’s not you.’
She looked at him, wondering if she’d understood his meaning, and feeling uneasy.
The telephone shrilled.
It took her a moment to realise that it was her own mobile phone, ringing from her bag on the floor. She’d been too poorly to think of switching it off. Frantically she dived for it.
‘Why haven’t you called me?’ Roscoe’s voice rasped.
‘It’s been difficult the last few days,’ she said in a low, hurried voice. ‘I can’t talk now.’
‘Why not? Are you with him?’
‘Yes.’
‘Going great then?’
‘Yes. Fine. Wonderful. I’ll call you later. Goodbye.’
She hung up and switched the phone off. Her heart was beating hard. Roscoe was a terrible intrusion from the outside world, one she would have given anything to avoid. But it was too late now.
‘Is everything all right?’ he asked.
‘Of course. Everything’s fine,’ she said brightly.
But it wasn’t. Nothing was fine.
She realised that she was still wearing the mask and hastily pulled it off.
‘Must you really go so soon?’ he begged her the next morning. ‘Stay another day.’
‘No,’ Dulcie said hurriedly. ‘I can’t take up any more of your time. After all, that gondola is your living, and you’ve already lost several days’ work because of me.’
He hesitated, then plunged on. ‘Actually, I don’t rely on the gondola to live. There’s something about myself I have to tell you-’
Suddenly she was filled with dread. It was coming, the pretence of being a Calvani. And only now did she understand how much she’d relied on him not making any such claims. Without that she could still see him as an honest man, and if she lost that belief it would hurt almost as much as saying goodbye to him.
‘Dulcie-’
‘Not now,’ she said quickly. ‘I have to get back. I have things to do-’ She knew she wasn’t making sense but she was desperate to stop him.
‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘This isn’t the moment. Will you meet me tonight?’
‘All right.’
He went down to the water with her and hailed a motor taxi. She kept her eyes on him as it drew away, feeling heavy hearted. Whatever happened tonight the magic that had encompassed her for the last few days was over. If he started spinning tales about being a Calvani he would confirm her worst fears. If not, he was an honest man, and belonged to Jenny.
Casting her mind back over the last few days she was unable to recall anything that could be read as the behaviour of a lover. Even that searing moment in the square might have been her imagination, although her heart told her it wasn’t. Apart from that there had been the odd semi-flirtatious remark. If she hadn’t become ill and dumped herself on him, it would all have been over after the day on the beach.
And if her own heart had somehow become entangled she could only blame herself for being unprofessional, and sort it out as best she could. Alone. Away from here. One way or another, tonight would mark the end.
As she entered the Empress Suite her phone was already ringing.
‘It took me time enough to get through to you,’ Roscoe grumbled.
‘I’m sorry, Mr Harrison, I’ve been very occupied.’
‘With this Fede character?’
‘Yes.’
‘Has he given you his Calvani story?’
‘Not exactly-’
‘Aha! You mean he’s laying the ground. That’s how he dazzled Jenny. Now, you check that out. This Calvani character must have an heir. Find him. See what he looks like. Call me back when you’ve done that.’
He hung up.
Dulcie glared at the dead phone, at the world in general. ‘So how am I going to-’
And then she heard a voice speaking far off in her memory.
‘Such a handsome man, my dear. We were all madly in love with him, and he loved all of us.’
Lady Harriet Maddox, her grandfather’s sister, and a dazzling beauty in her day. She’d scorched her way around Europe, flirting outrageously and leaving a trail of broken hearts, before marrying a man with no title but a large bank balance, which she’d proceeded to gamble away.
She was always discreet about her indiscreet past, but there was one man whose memory could bring a warm light to her eyes-if only Dulcie could recall his name. Harriet had travelled in Italy and probably met Count Calvani among many others, but was he the one she’d called ‘the latter-day Casanova’?
‘He could have been,’ Dulcie mused, ‘And that’s all I need. Right. To work.’
It took three hours to get her appearance exactly right, but when she left the hotel she was satisfied. Her attire was costly and elegant without being over-the-top, and she looked every inch
A water taxi took her to the Palazzo Calvani, and a steward came to meet her.
‘Is Count Calvani at home?’ she asked.
