Was she? she repeated insistently, when her question
was met by a stubborn silence from the reassuring
inner voice that should have acknowledged and
agreed.
'No, you must pull it tighter,' she could hear the
stylist instructing the dresser, and she winced as the
breath was squeezed out of her lungs.
Her hair had been arranged in an artless mix of
loose plaits coiled softly into an 'up do' and then
threaded with invisible thread strung with diamonds
to complement the pearl and diamond embroidery on
her gown. A make-up artist had spent what felt like
hours working on her face to make it look as though
she wasn’t actually wearing any make-up at all,
merely a soft glow, although her eyelids had been
brushed with a subtle gold-green powder which made
them look enormous as well as reflecting the green
glitter of the emerald.
By the time the stylist was satisfied with the narrowness
of her waist, Jodie was afraid she might pass
out from an inability to breathe.
'Come and look,' the stylist insisted, taking her to
stand in front of the full-length mirror.
The reflection gazing back at her was totally unfamiliar.
Huge gold eyes ringed with curling black
lashes looked at her, soft rose lips surely much fuller
than hers parted to show pearly white teeth. The
cream corset bodice of her gown revealed lushly
curved breasts and an impossibly narrow waist, whilst
silky fine cream hold-ups covered legs that seemed to
go on for ever, thanks to the height of the heels she
was having to wear.
'Bene,' the stylist pronounced, beckoning to the
dresser. 'Now for the skirt.'
Heaven knew how she would have managed to
dress herself, Jodie reflected half an hour afterwards,
when both skirt and train had finally been arranged
to the stylist's satisfaction, and the cream lace veil
and bodice had been slipped on to cover her hair and
bare skin.
There was a knock on the door, and some flurried
conversation out of Jodie’s earshot, and then the stylist
was handing her flowers and telling her urgently,
'It is time for you to leave…'
CHAPTER ELEVEN
FINALLY it was over: the church service, the walkabout
she hadn’t realised she would be expected to
make, greeting the well-wishers, the friends of
Lorenzo’s, who had included his lawyer and his
charming wife, and the impromptu wedding lunch
which Carlo had insisted on preparing for them whilst
everyone else in the restaurant joined in the celebration.
Nine hours of it in all, during which Jodie had
not dared to attempt to eat or drink, never mind sit
down.
And now they were finally alone, Assunta having
prepared and left them a cold supper before coming
to the church to see them married. Jodie was so exhausted
she could barely stand. The corset had become
a form of excruciating torture from which she
ached to be free with every muscle in her body that
hadn’t been numbed by its pressure.
In the hallway of the apartment, she headed for the
stairs, picking up her long skirts.
'You are tired?' Lorenzo guessed.
She could barely nod her head. Tired didn’t even
begin to describe her physical and emotional exhaustion.
Emotional exhaustion? Because of what, exactly?
She felt like kicking the unwanted inner voice
for probing and prodding — it, after all, knew as well
as she did exactly how she had felt standing next to
Lorenzo whilst the priest spoke the words of the marriage
ceremony. The light from the windows had illuminated
her face, but the inner light illuminating her
understanding of a truth she hadn’t wanted to recognise
had been far more powerful. She had hated the
feeling of deceit that had clung to her, the sense of
guilt and shame at the way they were using vows that
should have been sacred to suit their own purposes.
'I’ll come up with you,' she heard Lorenzo saying.
How could a mere dress weigh so much? By the
time she reached the top of the stairs her heart was
pounding nauseatingly, and she was feeling oddly
light-headed.
Outside the door to her bedroom, Lorenzo touched
her lightly on the shoulder and said coolly, 'If you’ve
got a minute…?'
They had only just been married, and he was asking
her if she had got a minute as though they were no
more than acquaintances. But then, wasn’t that exactly
what they were?
She could see that he was waiting for her to cross
the corridor and follow him into his room. Her leg
was aching painfully, but she refused to let it drag.
