encounter that clearly was as much as he wanted in a relationship.
But it was useless. She wanted more, and she had to face the fact
that she had nothing to hope for from him.
She stared out of her window along to the beach. There was a gaily
coloured beach umbrella erected there now, and she could see Jan's
distant figure taking her ease in its shade. She had little doubt that if
she looked hard enough she would be able to pick out Santino as
well; but she had no real wish to add reinforcement to an already
increasing awareness of the attraction that existed between her
sister and the man she loved.
At first she had told herself it was completely one-sided, and had
cringed inwardly from the blatancy of Jan's pursuit of Santino.
Nothing-and especially not the fact that as far as she knew he
belonged to her sister-appeared to deter her, not even the cool
amusement with which her first overtures had been received. And
eventually her persistence had paid off. Jan had always been lovely,
but now her early pregnancy had lent her face a new softness and
her skin a bloom and radiance that had been lacking before. Apart
from an extra fullness to her breasts, her body had not begun to
alter yet, and as she sunbathed every day, her skin had turned to a
soft shade of honey tan which was most becoming to her. Just how
becoming, a man like Santino could not fail to appreciate, Juliet
thought bitterly.
At first she had joined the sunbathing parties on the beach, but
gradually she had begun to feel more and more de trop. She had not
thought it was deliberate at first. After all, Jan would obviously
know a great many people whom Santino would also number
among his acquaintance. She had moved in a smart, fashionable
world that he also knew, so it was natural that they would have
things in common to talk about. But Juliet had not expected to feel
so completely excluded. She had not been disturbed at first by Jan's
frequent lapses into Italian, usually airily explained away by her
sister as-'A joke, sweetie. It just wouldn't sound funny in English.'
She could even accept that. What she could not accept was the
gradual switch in their relationships which put Jan at his side at
mealtimes, her voice low and intimate as she retailed some amusing
or scandalous anecdote which might as well have been in ancient
Chinese for all the meaning it had for Juliet. It was skilfully done, of
course, with frequent contrite looks at Juliet. 'Darling, you mustn't
let me monopolise your gorgeous fiancé.'
Nevertheless, Juliet thought, that was precisely and quite
cold-bloodedly what Jan was doing, and the fact that the
engagement did not actually exist between Santino and her self did
not really make her sister's actions any less reprehensible. As far as
Jan knew, Juliet and Santino had fallen in love, and she was doing
her level best to intervene. At times, Juliet wondered rather
despairingly what her motives could be. She couldn't possibly hope
that Santino would marry her, however strong the physical
attraction might be between them.
But Juliet had not bargained for Santino's reaction to her sister's
transparently provocative advances. She had expected him to brush
them aside contemptuously, but he gave no sign of doing so. He
might still be faintly amused, but he was never discouraging, and
Juliet suspected miserably that but for her presence they might well
be in the throes of an affair by now.
With every day that passed, she knew more overwhelmingly than
ever that all she could do to avoid more heartbreak was to get out
and go back to England. But this still presented problems. Santino
gave no sign that he was prepared to let her go just yet. At times,
she wondered if the humiliation she had suffered over the past few
weeks was intended to punish her for the deception she had
practised on him. She was no longer sure of anything, except the
lonely ache deep inside her.
There were also practical problems standing in the way of her
immediate departure. She was still having to make do with the
assortment of clothes that Santino had collected from the apartment
that first night. Her handbag with her passport and money, and the
rest of her clothes were still at the apartment. And while Jan was
plentifully supplied with clothes-Juliet guessed that the set of
matched luggage reposing in her room contained the trousseau she
had bought for Mario-that did not prevent her from making
slightly edged remarks when Juliet appeared in anything from her
wardrobe. And unfortunately the majority of garments that Santino
had selected belonged to Jan. She had tried to raise this point with
Santino a few times, but he had impatiently brushed it aside.
Roccaforte was a tiny fishing village, he said coldly, not a
fashionable resort.
Juliet looked down at her mother's envelope still clutched in her
hand and her eyes blurred with sudden tears at the sight of the dear,
familiar writing. That was where she belonged, she told herself
bleakly, back among the small dramas of the staff room and high
street. She could cope with those. Here, she was out of her
emotional depth, but at least she had the sense to know it.
There was nothing else for it. She would have to tackle Santino
about fixing a date for her return to England. After all, the autumn
term would be starting very soon, and she would have to be back in
her classroom for that.
Nor was there any point in putting the interview off to a more
opportune moment. She never really knew from one day to the next
whether Santino was going to be there or not, and when he was
there, Jan was never far away either so she had little hope of any
real privacy to say what she had to.
She felt self-conscious and miserable as she left the road and
walked across the yielding sand towards them. She knew they had
seen her and were watching her approach, and she had an
uncomfortable instinct that she had intruded. As she neared them
she saw that Santino, who was lying only about a foot away from
Jan, had propped himself up on his elbow, and that his mouth was
twisted impatiently. Jan was talking in that low, laughing voice she
seemed to reserve for him, but as Juliet came up to them, she broke
off rather theatrically and smiled up at her.
'Hello, sweetie. Are you joining us? How nice. I thought you'd be
writing back to Mim like a dutiful daughter.'
Juliet made herself smile back. 'There seems little point,'
she said coolly. 'I can probably get there myself ahead of a letter.'
She did not look at Santino as she spoke but kept her eyes fixed on
Jan, noticing that her sister's gaze flickered a little at her words. She
hoped that Santino would say something, but he remained silent,
and she supposed that he was either wilfully ignoring what she had
just said, or merely indifferent. She sighed inwardly. His attitude
was not making her task any easier. She made herself turn to him.
He had removed his shirt, and the close-fitting denim pants he wore
citing to his muscular legs. Dark glasses hid the expression in his
eyes as he looked up at her, but she knew intuitively that he was
annoyed at the interruption.
She felt a little spurt of anger rise within her. How dared he behave
like this? He had forced her to agree to this fake engagement, and
had been quick to demand certain standards of behaviour from her,
she thought bitterly. She made herself smile down at him.
'Could I have a word with you-darling?' She had to force the word
past suddenly dry lips. 'I hardly seem to see you nowadays.'
For a moment, he seemed to hesitate, then he rose to his feet. 'You
will excuse us, Janina?'
'Of course,' Jan leaned back on her cushions, smiling. 'I mustn't be
selfish about my enjoyment of your company. I mustn't forget that
you belong to Julie.'
Santino glanced at Juliet and his teeth showed momentarily in a
smile that was more like a sneer. 'So I do,' he said lightly. 'Will a
stroll along the beach content you, mia, or would you prefer to
return to the castello?'
'The beach will be fine,' she said, trying not to let her hurt show in
her voice: 'I-I won't keep you.'
She walked Stiffly beside him, knowing that Jan was watching them
go.
'So you've sought me out at last,' he said coldly when they were at
last out of earshot. 'I suppose I should be flattered. May I know the
reason for this sudden desire for my company?'
'You can hardly complain that you've lacked female
companionship,' she returned stormily, goaded by his tone.
'No, I can't-and I don't, believe me.' His voice was satirical. 'Are
you here in the role of outraged fidanzata to complain that I am
spending too much time with your sister?'
Juliet bent her head so that her hair swung like a curtain across her
face, concealing her expression from him. She was afraid that
something of the pang of real pain his words had caused her might
show on her face.
'I don't think we need take this-charade quite to those extremes,'
she said, trying to match his own tone. 'You are a free agent, and
I-well, I can no longer see that I'm doing the slightest good by