There was a knock on the door and Dante’s voice called, ‘It’s me.’
She drew a slow breath of dismay. She’d half-expected him to appear at her door, but not so soon. Where was the skilled, sensitive man with the light touch that she’d pictured? Was he going to be vulgarly obvious after all? Her disappointment was severe.
As she was preparing the words of rejection, he knocked again. ‘Can I come in?’
‘Yes,’ she said hastily, reaching for her robe and whisking it on as his head appeared cautiously around the door.
‘Ah, you’ve got the pictures on-screen,’ he said. ‘I was hoping to see them. Am I any good as a photographer?’
‘Er, yes, some of the pictures are very nice,’ she said, trying to marshal her thoughts.
He was still fully dressed and didn’t seem to notice that she was attired for the night. He studied the computer screen eagerly.
‘Nice,’ he said. ‘You photograph well, and the light was good just then.’
He ran through to the end of the pictures, then back, then forward again, until he found one that seemed to please him especially. She had just shaken her hair so that it fell in soft curls about her face, framing her laughter.
‘I’d like to have a copy of that one,’ he said. ‘You look just great.’
Here it was: the first move. Be careful.
But it was hard to be careful when she was suddenly conscious of her nakedness beneath the flimsy night-gown. Her whole body seemed alive to him and oblivious to her efforts at control.
‘I’m afraid that may take a while,’ she said. ‘I don’t have a printer with me.’
‘No problem. Here’s my email address. Send it to me as a file attachment and I’ll take care of the printing. Now, I should get to bed if I were you. You’ve had a long day, and tomorrow is going to be even busier.’
He turned in the open door.
‘Sleep well. Sorry I disturbed you. Goodnight.’
The door closed behind him.
Just down the corridor, the sound of that door closing was heard by two who lay contentedly in each other’s arms.
‘Leaving so soon?’ Toni observed. ‘Dante’s losing his touch. Usually he can have any woman he wants-for a little while.’
‘I know,’ Hope sighed. ‘As soon as it looks like getting serious, he vanishes. But how can we blame him? Think what it must be like for him, living with the knowledge that-Oh, it’s terrible! Of course he can’t be like other people.’
‘He won’t let anyone mention the subject,’ Toni said sombrely. ‘If you try, he becomes cold and angry. He wants to pretend that nothing is wrong, but if you catch him off-guard it’s there in his eyes, the knowledge and the fear.’
‘Should we tell Ferne?’ Hope said. ‘Just in case?’
‘Warn her, you mean? Not now. Perhaps later. Dante would be furious to know that his secret was out.’
‘Won’t it have to come out in the end?’
‘I don’t know,’ Toni said sadly. ‘Perhaps it will never be spoken of at all-until it’s too late.’
Dawn was the best part of the day, when the bright, clear air gave the view across the bay to Vesuvius a new vividness. How peaceful the volcano looked now it was sleeping, and how hard won that peace must be. The previous night had taught Ferne that.
She’d thought herself so well prepared, so ready to fend off any advance from Dante. But when he’d bid her a gentlemanly goodnight she’d been ill prepared for any of the reactions that had coursed through her.
Starting with disbelief, they had exploded through to outrage, deprivation and finally insult. At the mere prospect of making love with him, her body had flowered. And he hadn’t been interested. It was sheer bad manners.
She could cheerfully have hurled something at the door he’d closed behind him. It had taken the rest of the night to calm the volcano inside her, and now the sight of the real one in the distance didn’t improve her temper.
Had he suspected her moment of weakness? The thought made her go hot and cold.
She felt an urgent need to get away from where he might be. He’d come out last night to watch the sunset. Suppose he came out again at dawn?
Turning to hurry inside, she saw him standing behind her. How long had he been there?
‘Good morning,’ she said hurriedly, trying to get past him.
But he detained her with a light hand on her arm. ‘Stay.’
‘You’re very free with your commands,’ she said tersely.
‘Have I offended you?’
‘Of course not. But I expect you want to be alone.’
‘Not alone from you.’
He turned her so that she faced the sea and then he stood behind her, his arms crossed over her breast, holding her gently against him. Mysteriously his touch seemed to soothe her annoyance, and Ferne put up her hands, not to push him away but to hold his forearms.
‘So near and yet so far,’ he murmured.
‘How far is Vesuvius really?’
‘Only about six miles in earthly distance, but it comes from another universe. Once, years ago, I heard it rumble, and it was like magic. I’m always hoping for another one.’
‘No luck?’
‘Not yet. It keeps you waiting.’
‘Maybe it can’t decide what it wants.’
‘Or maybe it knows what it wants and can’t decide what to do about it,’ he mused. ‘Even when you want something badly, the way isn’t always clear.’
Now she had her answer about the night before. He didn’t want to keep his distance from her, but for some reason seemed to feel that he should. So the next step was up to her. Nothing else mattered now; she was content.
They returned to find the villa already awakening. Everyone was agog at the arrival of the two remaining sons, Justin from England, Luke from Rome. As many of the family as possible were going to the airport to meet Justin, his wife and children. Dante and Ferne remained at the villa to greet Luke.
In the early afternoon Primo and Olympia arrived, soon followed by another car, out of which stepped a powerful-looking man and a petite, fair-haired young woman.
‘Luke and Minnie,’ Dante said.
It was clear from the interested looks Ferne was getting that her story had spread throughout the family. When Minnie came downstairs from settling into her room, she commandeered Ferne’s company, demanding to be told everything. But before there was time to say much there was a shout and everyone hurried outside to welcome the party from England.
Justin, Hope’s eldest son, was an austere-looking man who at first seemed out of place in this convivial gathering, but Ferne noticed that his eyes followed his mother with a possessive look that contrasted curiously with his bearing. He had the same look for his wife, Evie, a brisk young woman with an air of friendly efficiency.
They were accompanied by Mark, Justin’s son by his first marriage. He was twenty, handsome, with dark wavy hair and brilliant eyes that made both the young maids give him yearning looks.
‘He’s just discovering his powers as a ladykiller,’ Justin said with a groan, yet also a touch of fatherly pride. ‘It makes him very difficult to live with.’
‘Don’t be hard on him,’ Evie protested. ‘It’s not his fault he’s good-looking. He’s just finished his first love affair with a girl who teaches ballroom dancing. He started learning as a way of getting close to her, and now he’s really good.’
The young man’s presence changed the atmosphere, making it livelier. Later, when the meal was over, Toni rummaged through some old tapes, made in the days before rock ’n’ roll, and played them on an ancient tape recorder.
‘Go on,’ he told Mark. ‘Let’s see how good you are.’
Without hesitating, Mark extended a hand to Ferne, whom he’d been admiring across the table all through supper.
‘Dance with me?’
Pleased, she accepted. She was a good dancer, and Mark was an expert. Soon they were spinning around in perfect time.