Veretti’s Dark Vengeance

The hope that had briefly flared in her died again.

‘You’re right, I probably wouldn’t,’ she sighed. ‘Let’s call it a day.’

She rose to go but he stopped her.

‘Are you going to give up without even trying for what we might have?’ he asked harshly.

‘I’m not sure it’s worth trying for. Won’t we just be banging our heads against a brick wall? Let me go now.’

He’d taken hold of her, suddenly terrified at her ability to slip away from him in mind and heart if not in flesh. He grasped her body, knowing that her real self still eluded him but helpless to prevent it.

‘I said let me go,’ she gasped.

He did so, loosening his grip, but not quickly enough. As she pulled away there was the sound of a small crash and, looking down, they saw her glass heart in pieces on the ground.

‘Oh, no!’ Helena dropped to her knees.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said desperately. ‘It was an accident, I didn’t mean-’

She rose, clutching pieces of broken glass and backed away from him.

‘Look what you’ve done,’ she wept.

‘Helena, please-we can get another one just like it.’

He knew he’d made a fatal mistake as soon as he uttered the words, and if he hadn’t known her scorn would have told him.

‘Just like it? How dare you? Nothing will ever be like it.’

‘I know it was a gift from Antonio but-’

‘You fool! It wasn’t a gift, it was the gift, the first thing he ever gave me. I wore it when we married, and when he lay dying in my arms he touched it and smiled at me. Can you give that back to me?’

Dumbly he shook his head, feeling the ground shaking beneath his feet. He’d done a terrible thing and he didn’t know how to put it right, or if there was any way to put it right at all. Her grief tore him apart and his own helplessness nearly drove him mad.

He was used to her strength but the agony of her sudden defeat almost destroyed him. And the sound of her tears brought back ghosts that had appalled him for years.

‘Put it down,’ he said, reaching out to her hands that were still clutching the broken glass. ‘Put it down before you harm yourself.’

Somehow he managed to get it away without cutting her. She didn’t try to move, just stood there shaking with misery.

‘What is it?’ he begged. ‘For pity’s sake, tell me.’

She shook her head, a gesture not of defiance but of helplessness.

‘I’m not letting you go until you tell me everything,’ he said in the gentlest voice Helena had ever heard him use.

But she couldn’t respond. The brave face she’d worn since losing the only person in the world to whom she’d been close had suddenly cracked and fallen away, leaving her defenceless.

‘Tell me about Antonio,’ he said. ‘We’ve never talked much about him, and perhaps we should.’

Still she couldn’t speak through her sobs, and he just held her while the storm quietened.

‘I know I was wrong,’ he offered, ‘but that’s all I know. Helena, please…’

She choked and moved her head back a little, enough to speak.

‘Antonio and I were never husband and wife in the proper sense,’ she whispered, ‘but in my own way I loved him. You wouldn’t understand. You know nothing about love.’

‘I might understand more than you know.’

‘No, you see things so simply. You want, you get. Kindness and affection don’t come into it.’

Salvatore groaned and dropped his head so that it just rested against her.

‘I loved Antonio,’ she said sadly, ‘because he was gentle and generous, and he loved me without wanting to grab everything and drain me dry. That’s what men do but he was different, better.’

‘I don’t understand. You could have had any man you wanted-’

‘That’s right, I could,’ she said, recovering enough to speak defiantly. ‘For the best part of sixteen years, I watched them slaver, pant, yearn. And I enjoyed it because I despised every one of them. I’ve been offered as much money as I liked if only I would-well, you can guess. But I never would. Never. Any man I wanted, yes! Only I didn’t want any of them. They couldn’t believe it. Of course they couldn’t. No man ever does. They all thought the same as you, that I was anybody’s as long as the money was right.’

‘Don’t!’ he groaned. ‘I’ve said I’m sorry about that. How can I make you believe it? I misjudged you. I’ve known for a long time. The first time we made love I knew you were different from what I’d thought.’

‘You expected a prostitute,’ she said bitterly.

‘No, but I did expect a woman of experience. Instead-I can’t say exactly-it was like making love to a girl. It might almost have been your first time.’

She was about to throw another bitter reply at him, but suddenly she noticed his eyes and realised there was something there she’d never seen before; not just earnestness, but a terrible honesty, as though his life depended on convincing her.

‘It wasn’t my first time,’ she said in a gentler voice than she had meant to use. ‘Just my first time in sixteen years.’

Once he would have been sceptical, but by now he had some hard-won wisdom. He urged her head against his shoulder, then stood there, wishing she would put her arms about him, or show some other sign of response.

‘Look at me,’ he whispered. ‘Please, Helena, look up.’

Something in his voice seemed to affect her, and after a few moments she did as he asked, revealing a face so weary and vulnerable that he drew a shocked breath. The next moment he was kissing her, not with passion but softly, letting his lips linger for only a moment on her lips, her cheeks, her eyelids.

‘It’s all right,’ he whispered. ‘It’s going to be all right. I’m here.’

Just why he expected this to reassure her he couldn’t have explained. She didn’t want him here. She wanted him consigned to the devil; she’d made that plain enough.

‘Helena-Helena…’

She made the tiniest possible movement towards him with her hand, and he thought, but couldn’t be sure, that she murmured his name. He didn’t wait for more but lifted her carefully and took her back into the bedroom, laying her down on the bed and stretching out beside her.

‘Trust me,’ he said.

He drew her close to him again, not making love, but offering warmth and security, and she seemed to understand at once because she clung to him with a helpless need he’d never known in her before, even at the height of her desire. He had no defence against the sensation which took him by surprise, upsetting every preconception, triggering feelings that alarmed yet exhilarated him.

‘What happened?’ he asked at last.

‘When I was sixteen I met a man called Miles Draker. He was a fashion photographer and he said he could make me a big name. I fell totally in love with him. I’d have done anything he wanted. I didn’t care about being famous, I just wanted to be with him all the time.

‘It was a wonderful life, making love at night, taking pictures by day. While he trained the camera on me he used to say things like, “Remember what we did last night-think that it’s happening now-now imagine you’re trying to please me.” And I did. Then I’d look at the pictures afterwards and see it in my own face. I thought it was my love that showed, but of course love wasn’t what he wanted. Pretty soon I was a success, just the way he had said. He gave me a contract, tying me to him, and I was the happiest girl in the world.

‘And then, just when we were starting to hit the big time, I discovered I was pregnant. I was so thrilled.’ She gave a soft mirthless laugh. ‘When I look back I can hardly believe how delighted I was. Fool! Idiot!’

‘Don’t call yourself names,’ he said.

‘Why not? They’re all true.’ Her voice took on a tortured edge as she went on, ‘Stupid, ignorant cow, brainless-’

‘Is that what he called you?’ asked Salvatore, who was beginning to discern the horrible end of this story.