CHAPTER ELEVEN
AS SOON as they were alone in her bedroom Matteo turned to face her.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said urgently. ‘I promised to keep to my own room and I meant it. I had no idea this would happen. Holly, please say that you believe me.’
‘Of course I do. I know you’re a man of your word.’
‘I had forgotten how Liza used to come in to see us in the mornings. I didn’t know it meant that much to her.’
‘But she gave you the clue,’ Holly reminded him. ‘She said you and Carol were “snuggled up together, cosy and warm.”’ She smiled. ‘It made me think of a pair of cats I once had. They were elderly neuters, and they slept wrapped around each other because that way they were blissfully content. Seeing you two like that made Liza feel safe, and it’s that safety she wants back.’
‘Then what do we do?’
‘Give her what she wants. That’s what this is all about.’
‘You mean we have to guess when she’s going to arrive in the morning? I set an alarm clock, or do you come next door and awaken me?’
She regarded him with an exasperation that had a touch of fondness.
‘I don’t think that would work,’ she said slowly.
They looked at each other. He spoke cautiously.
‘So your suggestion is-that we spend the night like a pair of elderly neutered cats?’
‘Not the whole night. Just the last half-hour. That bed must be eight feet wide. Room enough to stay clear of each other.’
He didn’t speak but his eyes said, You think so, do you? And for a moment the one kiss they’d shared flamed between them. With a great effort she put it aside.
‘Unless you’ve got a better idea,’ she said.
A faint gleam of humour crept into his rueful smile.
‘What must you be thinking of me?’ he asked.
‘That you’re reacting to situations that are beyond your control, as we all are,’ she said gently. ‘We just have to play everything by ear and hope we get it right.’
‘How will we know when we’ve got it right?’
‘When Liza smiles, we’ll know. That’s what it’s all about. We must never forget that.’
He nodded. After an uneasy moment he said, ‘I have something to give you.’
He went into his own room and she took the opportunity to change into her nightgown, relieved that she had chosen something plain and simple, not designed to be alluring. Her dressing gown, too, was elegant but not seductive.
When he returned he, too, was wearing a dressing gown, and carrying a bottle of champagne and two glasses, which he set down on a small table.
‘Take these and keep them in a safe place,’ he said, reaching into a deep pocket and producing papers. ‘They’re your copies of the forms I signed this afternoon. Everything is now in order.’
She could see that it was. She was Signora Fallucci, now a wealthy woman in her own right and possibly heiress to a large inheritance. She was also named as the guardian of Liza Fallucci, and her joint trustee, with the lawyers, for an even larger inheritance.
Everything was provided for, down to the last comma, the work of a thorough lawyer.
But when she looked up he was holding out a fluted glass of champagne.
‘We drank champagne with our guests,’ he said, ‘but this is between us. My gratitude-for today, and for the future.’
The future which might contain his death, perhaps very soon. Neither said it, but each knew what the other was thinking.
They clinked glasses.
‘Any regrets?’ he asked.
‘Not yet,’ she said lightly. ‘I’ll keep you informed. At any rate, this is nice and quiet.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘It’s just that we seem unable to discuss anything without shouting,’ she said, still in the same light tone. ‘It’s practically a form of communication.’
‘Ah, you’re talking about my proposal.’
‘Yes, I suppose I am.’
‘And a few other things,’ he said, considering. ‘I don’t normally shout and get so worked up.’
‘Me neither.’
‘And I’m not the bully you might think from my behaviour.’
‘I know. You just like to have your own way.’
‘I shout when I’m scared,’ he said with a shrug. ‘It doesn’t happen often but-well.’
She nodded.
‘I’m not scared of Fortese, but when you refused to marry me-it was like trying to seize hold of something in the darkness, only the “something” kept darting away. Usually it’s easy. A judge can mostly get what he wants by signing a bit of paper and letting other people do the work. But it was clear that no force was going to control you.
‘Even when you seemed to be almost my prisoner I used to feel a moment of apprehension when I reached home in the evening, in case you’d mysteriously vanished during the day.’
‘I never knew that.’
‘I couldn’t afford to let you suspect. You’d have found it too easy to run rings around me. You didn’t find it very hard in any case.’
Holly stared. She had known none of this. He’d always seemed so totally dominant. Now he was revealing the weakness in his defences, and it seemed not to trouble him at all that she should know.
After a moment he went on in a reflective voice. ‘I think I realised how important you were going to be from the first day. I didn’t know how, but you appeared out of nowhere, and everything about you was inevitable. It almost makes me believe in fate.’
‘You? A judge, believing in fate?’
‘No judge is ever only a judge. He’s a man too, no matter how much he might sometimes wish…’ He checked himself. ‘Well, anyway-it’s been a long day and I expect we’re both tired.’
‘Yes,’ she said. She’d had as much as she could stand for the moment, and she guessed he felt the same.
They climbed into opposite sides of the bed, solemnly bid each other goodnight and turned out the lights. Almost at once Holly discovered that she really was worn out, and when she closed her eyes she was asleep in seconds.
She awoke because a strange noise was reaching out through her sleep, seeking her, imploring her attention. As soon as she opened her eyes she realised what had disturbed her. A low growl, almost like a moan, was coming from the other side of the bed.
Matteo was lying on his front, his face turned towards her, half-buried in the pillow. One hand also lay on his pillow, clenching and unclenching as choking sounds came from him. He was talking in a language that Holly didn’t understand.
‘Matteo,’ she said softly. ‘Are you all right?’
The reply was a torrent of unintelligible words, while his hand clenched convulsively. Only then did she realise that he was still asleep.
‘Matteo,’ she repeated, uncertain whether to awaken him or not. The feeling of pain that came from him was too intense to be ignored.
His voice changed, becoming sharp. ‘No,’ he said. ‘No-no-no-’
Then he gave a sudden, convulsive movement and threw himself over onto his back. He was breathing harshly now while, ‘No-no-no…’ poured from his mouth.
Acting instinctively, Holly seized his hand, holding it between hers until its jerky movements subsided. At the
