‘Thank you-'
‘What about the rest of the camp?'
‘I have to stay with Roberto,' Ben said. ‘Can you manage?'
‘Right-' Could she manage? A hundred children playing a sport she barely understood? Natalia straightened. ‘Of course I can.'
The mood of the camp as she returned to the pitch was subdued, the children still gathered in anxious clusters. Natalia gave them all her most cheerful smile and clapped hands. ‘Right. Everyone into a circle.'
She certainly couldn't coach football, and frankly after the harrowing events of the morning she thought everyone could use a bit of a break. ‘Who knows how to play duck duck goose?' she asked cheerfully, and proceeded to explain how to play.
They spent the afternoon playing party games, to the children's delight and some of the volunteers' chagrin, and even though Natalia kept up a steady stream of cheerful encouragement she felt tired and tense, longing to know how Roberto-and Ben-were both doing.
When the camp was finally dismissed for the day, she helped to clean up and then asked Enrico to drive her to the island's main hospital, stopping on the way to pick up a few treats for Roberto. Ben wasn't there, but she found Roberto's parents waiting outside his room, looking tired and anxious. They stood, scrambling to attention as she approached them.
‘Your Highness … '
‘Scusi, scusi … '
She waved their protestations aside. ‘We don't need to stand on formality here. How is Roberto?' She listened as they explained that he had indeed broken his leg, but it was a clean break and should heal. He'd be in plaster for six weeks, with physical therapy afterwards. She saw them both exchange anxious looks, and thought they were probably concerned about the cost. Santina had a national health-care system, but they would surely have to take time off work to care for their son. She realised with a jolt that they were wearing royal uniforms, and knew they must have jobs in the palazzo.
‘Of course my father, King Eduardo, will want to help you with any costs associated with Roberto's injury,' she assured them, making a mental note to talk to her father about such a thing. She had no intention of making empty promises.
Roberto was asleep, but she left the basket of chocolate bars and comic books. Impulsively, as she got back in the car, she asked Enrico to drive her to the office.
Ben wasn't there, but Mariana was, clearing up for the day. ‘Mr Jackson hasn't been in the office today,' she said when Natalia asked.
‘Do you have his home address?'
If Mariana was surprised by such a request, she didn't show it. She looked it up on the computer and wrote it down, handing Natalia the paper. ‘I don't know if he'll be home.'
‘That's all right,' Natalia said with a breeziness she didn't really feel. ‘I just wanted to talk to him about a few things.'
Back in the car again she gazed down at the written address, determined to still her hard-beating heart and make sense of the letters. She could do this. It just took time and concentration. ‘Via Ventoso,' she finally told Enrico in triumph, and he started the car without a word.
Via Ventoso started in the city but then left the buildings behind for a stretch of empty road along the coast with only a few beach houses scattered among the rocks and palms. Enrico pulled into the shaded drive that led to Ben's house, a sprawling structure of glass and natural rough-hewn stone. Natalia slid out of the car and then, impulsively-for this whole evening had been an impulse-she told Enrico he could go.
The chauffeur hesitated. ‘Are you certain, Your Highness?'
‘Yes … I'll text you if you're needed. Thank you, Enrico.'
She waited until the limo had disappeared down the twisting road before she turned towards the house. It looked depressingly dark and empty. What on earth had she been thinking, coming here unannounced? Ben was probably out at some important business meeting and she'd just stranded herself, at least for a little while. She wasn't about to text Enrico five minutes after he'd left. She still had some pride.
She pressed the doorbell and listened to it echo through the house. She counted to ten, then twenty, and pressed it again. Counted again. Nothing.
Disappointment swamped her. Why was she here?
Desperately, and a little recklessly, Natalia turned the
handle and to her surprise the door swung silently open. She stepped inside Ben's house, her heart surely beating loud enough for him to hear, wherever he was.
She came straight into the living room, a large, airy space with a few modern leather sofas and some rather stark contemporary art. The room was dark and empty, yet Natalia still saw a few small signs of Ben's presence: a pad of paper and a silver-plated pen on the glass coffee table, a paperback on the sofa. She crept closer and saw it was a rather light-hearted mystery. So Ben Jackson relaxed by reading a little fiction. The thought made her smile.
In the pristine kitchen she saw a coffee cup and cereal bowl washed and left on the dish drainer, and a bottle of vitamins by the sink, all fascinating glimpses into Ben's neat and rather stoic existence.
Hesitating, knowing she was being incredibly nosy, Natalia finally moved down the hallway that could only lead to the bedrooms. Two of the bedrooms were empty and unused; the third and last clearly belonged to Ben. Natalia's gaze swept the room but she could already sense it was empty. The king-size bed with its navy silk duvet had been made up with military precision. She saw some crumpled clothes in the corner, having missed the washing basket by about a metre, and a paperback by the bed. She crept closer and saw it was another light mystery. She smiled, imagined teasing him about his choice in reading material.
She peeked into the en suite bathroom, but it was also dark and empty. She saw a toothbrush, razor, a bar of shaving soap. The towels were hung to dry, the bath mat hanging off the edge of the tub. Ben, Natalia acknowledged without surprise, was a neat and rather Spartan man. He also wasn't home.
She walked back out into the living room, wondering where he was. What to do. She felt instinctively that he would not have left the door unlocked all day so he had to be nearby or else expecting to return soon. So should she wait? And why?
Just what was she doing here? What did she want?
Natalia pushed the uncomfortable questions aside and turned to stare moodily out at the white-sand beach that led right up to the sliding glass doors of the living room. Then with a jolt she saw that the door was partially ajar.
She slipped outside, kicking off her trainers that sunk into the sand. The sun was starting its descent towards the sea, streaks of vivid colour emblazoning the sky. Out here all Natalia could hear was the rattle of the wind in the palms and the gentle whoosh of the waves upon the sand.
As her eyes adjusted to the oncoming twilight, soft and violet, she made out a cluster of palm trees, a few scattered boulders and then Ben, sitting alone on the beach with his head in his hands.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
BEN glanced up as Natalia approached, trepidation and compassion warring within her. He looked grave and perhaps even grim; was he displeased to see her? Natalia couldn't tell, yet she could certainly feel the depth of some nameless emotion rising from within him. His hooded gaze seemed to blaze through her senses and as she came to a halt a few
metres away they stared at each other for a long moment, neither speaking.
Then Ben gave a strange, cynical little smile and Natalia braced herself for some cutting remark or command to leave. Instead he said, ‘I've just been sitting here, thinking what a selfish bastard I am.'
Surprise flashed through her and she came to sit down next to him on the cool, hard sand. ‘That doesn't sound like much fun.'
‘No,' Ben agreed, turning back to stare straight ahead again at the darkening sea. ‘It isn't.'
Natalia stared at the sea for a moment, trying to gather her scattered thoughts. ‘Is it because of Roberto?' she finally asked.
‘I was working him hard and I should have known better.'
‘Known he would break his leg?' Natalia said with a lilt of wry disbelief. ‘Because that's rather a difficult thing to know.'
‘Know that a ten-year-old kid doesn't need to be a superstar,' Ben said flatly. ‘Even if you want him to be. Even if you weren't.'
So this wasn't just about Roberto. ‘You still couldn't have known, Ben. It was an accident. And accidents are out of your control.'