In other circumstances, it came to her, this evening could have been
the culmination of her lifetime's dreams. As they had walked to the
table, she had seen how the other women were watching Santino
Vallone, and she would not have been human if their envy had not
given her a slight sense of exhilaration. But it had brought home to
her as nothing else could have done just how tepid the relationships
were that she had enjoyed up to now, and this was a viewpoint that
she found both disturbing and dangerous under the circumstances.
Santino Vallone might make her feel very angry, and very bitter on
Jan's behalf, but she had to admit she had never felt more alive
either, and it would be very hard to return her borrowed plumes and
return to her normal placid routine when this strange evening was
over.
One thing was certain. Even if circumstances had not decreed that
they could never meet again, he was a man she had to avoid
anyway for her own peace of mind. Their worlds had collided
briefly, that was all. It was strange to think that even at this moment
they might be related by marriage-strange and disturbing too. She
wondered if Mario was in any way like his brother, and concluded
that he could not be. A younger version of Santino would not have
sat down tamely under any dictatorial edicts about his marriage
plans, she thought.
She had looked all round the apartment earlier but she had not been
able to find a photograph of Jan's fiancé anywhere. In fact the
whole place had been oddly devoid of any little personal touches as
if Jan had been determined to subdue her entire personality.
Perhaps Jan had considered that anything else would be a waste of
time as she was only to be a temporary tenant. Another point
suddenly occurred to Juliet. She had no idea where her sister and
brand-new brother-in-law intended to live when they returned.
Would they move into the apartment, or would they leave it vacant
and move to wherever Mario was living? All Juliet hoped was that
the newlyweds did not have any optimistic plans about moving in
with Santino.
Then the food began to arrive and resolutely she put Jan and her
problems to one side of her mind. This was her first and probably
her last dinner in a top-line Roman restaurant, and she was going to
enjoy every minute of it, in spite of the reckoning that her sixth
sense warned her was to come.
Her plate was loaded first with tiny sardines and prawns, with
glistening tomatoes and wedges of pepper, anchovies and shiny
olives, and these delights were followed by lasagne, rich in creamy
sauce.
She had wondered if she would have any appetite at all, but the
fresh air was making her hungry, and subduing her apprehensions.
A velvet twilight was beginning to descend and waiters were
coming round the tables lighting the candles that were set beneath
gleaming glass globes in the centre.
The main course was slices of veal simmered slowly in Marsala
with tiny mushrooms, and this was accompanied by huge dishes of
green beans, and tender broccoli. Juliet savoured every delectable
mouthful, complemented by the smooth delicacy of the wine he had
chosen.
He ate sparingly, she noticed, which probably accounted for the fact
that he did not appear to have a spare ounce of flesh anywhere on
his tall muscular body-something which could not be said for the
majority of men at the surrounding tables, she thought frankly.
She could not face the idea of a rich dessert, and she was glad she
had resisted when the waiter brought a bowl heaped with enormous
peaches and cherries and lush black grapes and set it between them.
There was brandy too in big balloon-shaped glasses, and coffee,
strong and dark, in an elegant pot set to keep warm on a small spirit
stove at one side of the table.
'And now,' Santino said very quietly. 'And now, cara, we talk.'
Juliet swallowed some of her brandy the wrong way and only the
presence of some unsuspected guardian angel saved her from the
ignominy of a coughing fit.
When she could trust her voice, she said feebly, 'There -there's
nothing to talk about.'
'You think not?' He took a silver case from his pocket, extracted a
long dark cheroot and lit it contemplatively. 'You are ready then to
accept the terms I offered without further discussion? Bene. '
'No.' She shook her head quickly. 'No-your terms are totally
unacceptable. I thought I had made that clear.'
'You have made nothing clear.' His voice was hard. 'What is it that
you want? More money? You will be disappointed. I will not join in
a private auction of my brother's future with you. The amount I have
already offered is more than generous, as I think any lawyer would
advise you.'
She was going to protest that she had no lawyer, but had to bite her
tongue instead. It was possible, she thought, that Jan might have
taken legal advice over this man with his threats and his bribes.
Trying to maintain her part of the conversation was rather like
fencing in the dark, but it would not be for much longer. When he
saw that she was adamant, he would take her back to the apartment,
and first thing in the morning she would find out about flights back
to England and try and get a cancellation on the first. She would
leave a note for Jan and Mario, telling them what she had done, she
thought. By that time they would be safely married, and nothing he
could do would harm them.
'Your idea of generous behaviour differs from mine, signore,' she
said in a small, cold voice, and was sorry he would never
understand the irony in her words.
His brows rose in incredulity. Then he gave a short, sardonic laugh.
'It is hardly believable,' he said, half to himself. 'The face and body
of a Botticelli angel concealing the soul of a cheap little
gold-digger. I pity you, mia. You are doomed to unhappiness, I
think.'
She stared down at the tablecloth, veiling her eyes with her lashes,
unwilling to let him see her very real indignation. Jan, she
supposed, would have laughed and made some lazy retorts .
She saw him glance at his watch and sensed his growing
impatience.
'Come, Janina,' he said at last. 'You cannot pretend that you did not
accompany me here tonight in order to strike a bargain. Or are you
vain enough to believe that it is sufficient for me to spend the'
evening admiring your beauty? You fill the eye, certainly, cara, and
you appeal to the senses, but my heart you leave cold. My offer
stands. Take it or leave it.'
As if in a dream she heard him repeat the amount of money he was
offering Jan. It was in lira, of course, and she was not too
experienced at converting large sums back into their English
equivalent, but even her fairly haphazard calculations were enough
to set her brain reeling. It was like learning you had won a major
prize in a premium bond draw, she thought dazedly, and it was
incredible that he should offer such a sum to anyone for purely
personal reasons. But as her initial amazement began to fade, a cold
anger took its place. What was this money, after all, but a
calculated insult to Jan?
'Well, what do you say?' His voice was incisive, cutting across her
thoughts.
She made herself utter a little laugh. 'Nothing, signore. Niente',' she
added for good measure. 'Nothing that you can say or do will make
me give up Mario. You see, I love him.'
'Love?' he questioned, and she felt seared by the blaze of contempt
in his eyes. 'I doubt you even know the meaning of the word. I
certainly wouldn't dignify any relationship you have ever had with
Mario or anyone else with such a word. Mario is a fool-but rest
assured, signorina, I shall not allow him to suffer for the rest of his
life for his folly.'
Somehow she had to maintain her self-control when every impulse
was screaming at her to fling the remains of her brandy in that dark
contemptuous face.
She said coolly, 'Exaggeration seems to be another Southern
quality. I doubt if Mario sees our-relationship as you put it in
quite that light.'
'Oh, but he will.' He spoke quite softly, but there was a note in his
voice that made her shiver in spite of the balmy warmth of the
evening. As if moved by strings, her hand fluttered up and touched
the rose that lay like a splash of blood against the whiteness of her
skin.
He watched the nervous gesture and his smile widened
unpleasantly.
His voice sank almost to a whisper. 'I shall show him-
demonstrate beyond all doubt the truth about you, cara, and he will
believe it. Take the money while you can. I shall not offer it again.'
'Go to hell,' she said steadily. 'And take your money with you.'
He shook his head, and his eyes held hers. There was no visible
emotion in them now, but she sensed a determination and a resolve
so strong that it frightened her.
'If I go to hell, cara,' he said gently, 'I shall take you with me, be
very sure of that.'
Her hands were shaking, but she made herself reach for the coffee
pot and pour more coffee into her cup. Miraculously, she managed
it without spilling any or otherwise making a fool of herself, and
then something fluttered past her face and she recoiled with a little
cry, setting the pot back on the little stove with a jerk.
'Oh, what was that?'
'Merely a moth,' he said impatiently. 'The candles attract them.'
She could see now that that was all it was, a large grey moth, its