Last Voyage of the Valentina(56)

They climbed beneath the sheets. Margo would have liked to read her book. She was past the difficult first chapters now and the characters were really beginning to live. With a sigh of resignation she switched off the light and lay down expectantly. Thomas turned off his light and rolled over to kiss her.

“Aren’t we a bit old for this?” she said, embarrassed.

“It’s only our bodies that have aged, Margo,” he breathed into her neck. “Surely our spirits are still young.”

His voice sounded desperate, as if he needed her to agree. Margo sensed in his soul a terrible unrest. He hadn’t been the same since Alba came down with the portrait of her mother. Those memories had been nicely stored away like silt at the bottom of a clear pond. Now Alba had gone and raked her fingers through it, leaving the water cloudy. As he made love to her, Margo couldn’t help wondering whether Thomas was thinking of Valentina.



Alba listened to the rain tapping on the skylight. She was happy and satisfied. Fitz, however, was not. He was still unable to get close to her. “How much closer can one possibly get?” she would argue, pressing her warm body against his. But that was not what he meant. He didn’t expect Alba to understand. Perhaps it was just her nature, but he knew there was a part at the very core of her being that remained a stranger to him. He simply couldn’t help feeling she was acting. He didn’t believe she was superficial, he knew she had secret depths, he just didn’t know how to get to them. Give it time, he reassured himself.

“Darling, please come with me?” she pleaded, running her hand across his chest.

“Of course,” he replied, assuming she was referring to the weekend.

“No, I mean to Italy.” There was a long pause.

Fitz took a deep breath, anticipating her reaction. “You know I can’t.”

“Is it Sprout?”

“No.”

“Is it work?”

“Not really.”

“Viv wouldn’t mind. You could say you were setting up her book tour. I’m sure there’s a bookshop in Incantellaria.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

“Don’t you love me?” She sounded hurt.

“You know I love you. But Alba, this is something you have to do alone. I’ll just get in the way.”

“Of course you won’t get in the way. I need you,” she pleaded, a steely undertone to her voice.

Fitz sighed. “Darling, I don’t even speak Italian.”

“That’s the lamest excuse I’ve ever heard. I had expected you, of all people, to be more loyal.” She sat up sulkily and lit a cigarette.

“It’s got nothing to do with loyalty. I’m one hundred percent loyal to you. Look on it as an adventure.”

She looked at him as if he had done the most wicked thing. “I’m so disappointed in you, Fitz. I thought you were different.”

Now it was his turn to be affronted. “How can I drop everything to follow you around Italy? I have a life and, although you are very central to it, there are things I just can’t leave for other people to do. I’d love to take a long holiday with you in a pretty place. But right now is not a good time.”

She got up and flounced into the bathroom and slammed the door. Fitz stared up at the skylight, where the rain was still splashing off the glass in a torrent. Since they had met he had been wary of upsetting her. He had witnessed the fire of her temper and made a conscious effort to avoid igniting it. He had been too afraid of losing her. He now realized, as she sulked in the bathroom, that his inability to get close to her might have something to do with that pretense. They hadn’t been honest with each other. He wasn’t doing her any favors pandering to her every whim; he was simply encouraging her to be manipulative and spoiled. If their relationship was going to work it had to get real.

When she came out she was in her pink dressing gown with fluffy pink mules on her feet. “I’m not used to being treated like this,” she said, her mouth tight and petulant. She folded her arms in front of her and glowered at him. “If you’re not going to support me, why are you with me?”

“Just because I refuse to go to Italy with you doesn’t mean that I don’t love you,” he explained, but she wasn’t listening. When Alba was cross she heard nothing but her own voice.

“This is the most important thing I will ever do in my life. I can’t believe that a man who claims to love me doesn’t want to share it with me. I don’t think we should be together anymore,” she said tearfully.

“We can’t split up because of a trivial argument,” he reasoned, his gut twisting with regret.