showing any sign of weakness.
‘Darling,’ Angie whispered, reaching out to her.
‘I’m all right,’ Heather said firmly, pulling herself together. ‘Bernardo, I should like to ask you a favour.’
‘Of course,’ he said at once.
‘Would you telephone home, please, and speak to Baptista’s maid? Ask her to bring me some day clothes to change into.’
‘And me,’ Angie said quickly.
He nodded and moved away to a quiet corner, taking out his mobile. Heather went to the window and stood looking out. If she didn’t have to look at Renato she might just about endure this.
Bernardo returned to say the maid was on her way, just as a doctor appeared.
‘She’s stable,’ he said. ‘You can see her just for a moment.’
The two men departed. Angie and Heather sat in silence until the clothes arrived. Within a few minutes they were plainly dressed, and nobody could have told that there was ever going to be a wedding.
Renato emerged into the corridor. Beneath his tan his face had a kind of greyish pallor and his voice sounded strained. ‘My mother would like to see you,’ he told Heather.
‘How is she?’
‘Suffering terribly. She blames herself for this disaster.’
‘That’s nonsense. I know who’s to blame and it isn’t her.’
‘Then tell her that. Tell her anything you like, but for God’s sake stop her torturing herself. You’re the only one who can help her now.’
Heather slipped past him into Baptista’s room. Bernardo rose from the bed and backed away as she approached. Renato came just inside the room and stood there, watching as Heather approached the bed.
Only a short time ago the old woman had looked magnificent and indomitable in black satin, lace and diamonds. Now she looked frail and tiny, lying against the white sheets, her face drained of colour. She turned her head towards Heather. Her eyes were tired and anxious.
‘Forgive me,’ she whispered. ‘Forgive me…’
‘There’s nothing to forgive,’ Heather said quickly. ‘This isn’t your fault.’
‘My son-has dishonoured you-’
‘No,’ Heather said firmly. ‘I can only be dishonoured by my own actions. Not somebody else’s. There is no dishonour. This will pass, and life will go on.’ She took Baptista’s hand. ‘For you too.’
Baptista searched her face. ‘I think you have-a great heart-’ she murmured. ‘My son is a fool.’
Heather leaned closer, smiling into the old woman’s eyes, trying to reassure her. ‘Most men are fools,’ she said. ‘We know that, don’t we? But we don’t have to be affected by their foolishness.’
Baptista’s face relaxed, and she seemed drawn into the kindly female conspiracy Heather was offering her. ‘Bless you,’ she whispered. ‘Don’t go.’
‘Not just yet,’ Heather agreed. ‘Not until I know you’re on the mend.’
‘I’ll be home soon. Promise me that I’ll find you there.’ Baptista’s voice grew urgent. ‘Promise me.’
Heather stared at her in dismay. All she wanted was to flee Sicily.
‘Please-’ she started to say, ‘I can’t-’
Baptista was growing dangerously agitated. Heather spoke quickly. ‘I promise,’ she said. ‘I’ll be there when you come home. But I’ll go now so that you can be alone with your family.’
‘You will be there,’ Baptista repeated. ‘You have given your word.’
‘And I’m a woman of my word. Don’t worry.’ She slipped out.
‘What is it?’ Angie asked quickly, seeing her pale face.
‘I can’t believe what I’ve done.’ Briefly she told Angie what had happened.
‘You didn’t have any choice.’
‘No, I didn’t. But how do I live in the same house with Renato without telling him how much I hate him?’
CHAPTER SIX
THE Residenza was eerily quiet. The vast hordes of guests had swarmed all over it, devouring the feast, hungrier and thirstier for the excitement of having something horrifying to talk about. Now they were all gone, save for one or two who lived too far away to depart that night. In the morning they too would vanish.
The wedding cake remained uneaten, because everyone had been too superstitious to touch it. It stood tall and beautiful in its white, shimmering glory, celebrating a lovers’ union that would never be.
Heather stood in the semi-darkness of the great hall, looking at the cake, with its tiny bride and groom on the topmost tier. She was trapped in limbo, unable to go forward or back. The way back involved too many painful thoughts. The way forward was blocked by her promise.
She felt slightly giddy, and recalled that she’d eaten nothing since the night before. This morning she’d refused breakfast. Too excited. She would eat later, at the reception, she’d thought. And when they cut the cake she’d planned to take the two little figures from the top and treasure them always. Well, they were still there, if she wanted them.
Suddenly she broke. All day she’d used Baptista’s illness to fend off the truth, but now there was nothing to protect her from it. Lorenzo didn’t love her, had deserted her in front of the whole cathedral. The dream of love that she’d believed in had turned out to be a monstrous, sickening farce.
At this moment she forgot the doubts that had plagued her only the night before. They belonged in the realm of reason and common sense and it was too soon to heed them.
What tortured her now were memories of the time when Lorenzo had been the young man who charmed her and made life sweet with his kindness, his cheerful good nature, and his adoration. Her feelings for him might have turned out to be no more than infatuation, but they had been real enough in their way, and now they were bitterly painful. She covered her eyes with her hand and leaned forward, swaying against the table, while anguish shook her. Tears threatened but she fought them back.
I will not cry.
At least, not now. Not until she could be alone, away from this house, away from this island, away from Renato Martelli.
A footstep made her whirl around. Renato stood there, watching her. Furious at his intrusion, she pulled herself together and spoke as calmly as she could. ‘How is your mother?’
‘Asleep when I left her. The doctors think it was just a giddy spell.’
‘And she’s in no danger?’
‘She has a bad heart. But this wasn’t a heart attack.’
‘Fine. Then I can go soon?’
‘If you want to hurt her. She has welcomed you as her daughter-’
‘But I’m not her daughter,’ Heather said harshly, ‘nor will I ever be-’
‘You don’t understand. I’m not talking about legalities. I’m saying that she loves you. From the moment you arrived she opened her arms to you. Didn’t you feel that?’
‘Yes, I did, and it meant the world to me, but now-’
‘Now you’ll turn your back on her? Is that how you repay her kindness?’
‘I’ve said I’ll stay until she returns home. I can’t promise further than that.’
The sound of her own voice startled her. It sounded hard with the effort of suppressing all emotion, not like herself at all. Or perhaps this stern, dry-eyed, controlled woman was who she was now.
One of the family maids was hovering uneasily. She asked Renato something in Sicilian. ‘She wants to know what she should do with the cake,’ he said.
Heather stared at him, aghast. She was starving, devastated, with every nerve at breaking point, and her exhausted mind on the edge of hallucinating. The prosaic question caught her off guard and almost sent her into hysterics. ‘How would I know?’ she asked wildly. ‘I’ve never been in this situation before. Oddly enough, the books
