The wind had picked up. It was gusty on the shore. The waves pounded the rocks and raced up the sand to snap at her feet. Her hair flew about her head and whipped against her cheeks. She stood broken and alone, and allowed the rain to wash away her tears. Now she understood love, in all its pain and glory. She understood that it never came alone, that it was always accompanied by its inseparable companion, sorrow.
She knew instinctively that it couldn’t be any other way, as a coin is bound to its duality, but she didn’t mind. The agony was worth the exquisite feeling of love, for even though Dante had gone she loved him in her heart and that feeling would never go away. She’d carry it always and forever. And she’d wait for him. She’d stand at those big black gates come rain or shine and, like a faithful dog, she’d wait. And there would be pleasure in her waiting, for it would be tempered with hope. Hope that he would come back. Hope that he would remember her.
10.
Devon, 2009
On the last day of May Rafa Santoro arrived at the Polzanze. A bright sun welcomed him as he stepped out of his hired Audi, and a cool sea breeze raked careless fingers through his hair. He took a deep, satisfied breath and ran his eyes over the house with an air of fondness, as if to say, “Home at last.”
His arrival had been much anticipated at the hotel, and the small wood-paneled hall was crowded with staff. Jennifer and Rose had left their desk, Bertha her duties, and Heather was hovering by the door to the dining room, her lips an unusually provocative shade of crimson. Jake stood in the middle of the hall in front of the round table, which labored beneath the weight of a lavish display of lilies, while his father positioned himself beside the open fireplace, hands in pockets, a bemused look on his face. Tom, a young Cornish lad who worked with Shane, was already outside offering to carry bags.
This being Sunday, Clementine was not at work, but she felt it was beneath her dignity to hang around the hall like a desperate groupie, so she remained alone in her bedroom, challenging herself not to sneak a peek at the new artist from behind the curtain. Having not seen him, she couldn’t understand what all the fuss was about.
Marina had joined the brigadier for breakfast, concealing her excitement behind a large cup of coffee, but now Shane hurried across the dining room to tell her that Mr. Santoro had arrived.
“Thank you, Shane,” she said, getting up. “Is Jake in the hall?”
“Along with everyone else,” he replied with a snigger.
“Who else?”
“Jennifer, Rose, Bertha …”
A shadow of irritation darkened Marina’s face. It was Jake’s duty to make sure everyone was doing his or her job. She smiled despairingly at the brigadier. “I’d better go and set the cat among the pigeons.”
“I’m rather curious myself,” he replied. “Would rather like to be a pigeon.”
“I don’t imagine there’s a spare inch in the hall—even for a very discreet pigeon such as yourself.”
“Then I will wait here, and you can introduce me later. I think I’ll go and read the papers in the library.”
“You’d have thought they’d never seen a handsome man before.”
“They’re all too young to remember me,” he added with a chuckle. “In my day I was what they called ‘a dish.’”
When Marina stalked into the hall, she found only Jake and Grey, and guessed correctly that Shane had warned them all to return to their jobs. Tom was coming through the doors with a couple of bags, followed by Rafa, casual in his brown suede jacket and jeans, his silver-buckled belt glinting on his hips. Marina greeted him warmly, and he settled his brown eyes onto her with the familiarity of an old friend. She could see Jennifer and Rose in her periphery vision, craning their necks round the corner like a couple of geese. But her smile did not falter, nor did her gaze. There was a brightness about him that seemed to light up the whole room and reduce all her fears to superfluous particles of dust. It had been so long since she had been able to breathe without tension in her chest. She couldn’t wait for Clementine to meet him; she knew her stepdaughter would approve her choice and that thought made her smile even broader.
“Let me introduce you to Jake, our manager, and my husband, Grey.”
“Father and son?”
“Yes,” said Grey.
“You look very alike.”
“I’m not sure that’s a compliment,” said Jake with a grin.
His father rolled his eyes. “No respect from the young these days! Welcome.” He extended his hand.
Rafa’s handshake was firm and confident. “It’s lovely to be here,” he said happily. “I hadn’t forgotten how beautiful the house is.”