A Face To Die For (37 page)

I thanked God that Lynda was taking control; my head was spinning so. Were they talking about leaving for Sicily?

Lynda looked across as me. 'Look, Oliver, she's in an awful state. I don't think much is sinking in at all right now. Can I get back to you?’ A pause … ‘Yes, I'm sure she will want to. So if you could do that, it would be so helpful. Thanks a lot. Do you think it'll be tonight?' Another pause … 'Fine, I'll tell her. Thanks so much, Oliver. We’ll wait to hear from you then.'

What was going on? I staggered up and tried to get hold of the phone.

Lynda replaced the receiver and took hold of my outstretched hand. 'There’s no point. You're not in a fit state. Oliver has everything under control. He's organising flights to Sicily for you both; hopefully tonight.'

'W...what happened? How?'

Slowly she explained, as much as she knew from Oliver anyway. The car in which Luigi and Kate were driving had apparently crashed that morning in the countryside near Cefalu. Luigi was killed instantly, Kate was injured but still alive ... but her words trailed off as I shook my head in denial. It simply couldn't believe it to be true.

Again I was confused, my head swirling in a kind of vortex. I sat down, holding it in my hands. A dull pain was twisting itself round and round inside me now. I started to hug myself, but Lynda came to me and encompassed me in her arms. 'I know, my love. It's hard to take in. Even I'm finding it difficult, but for now you must trust me. We'll look after you. Don't try to do or say anything. You've had one helluva shock ... why don't you go upstairs and lie down?'

I moved away and looked at her, trying hard to concentrate my thoughts on the one-sided conversation I'd just heard, and what she'd just told me.

'It is true, isn't it?' I mumbled. 'There’s been a crash and Luigi’s dead?'

Lynda nodded, solemnly. 'I’m afraid so, darling. I wish I could ...'

I turned and walked away not wanting to hear anything she had to say. My heart felt leaden and ached unbearably with sadness, as a more concentrated pain centred itself deep within in my chest. I wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn't flow.

I went up to my studio and pulled down the blind. But still tears wouldn't come. I felt frozen in total limbo. I just lay on the couch for ages, staring at the dark ceiling. The studio slowly rotated around me; the darkness like a black mist hanging over me. Slowly it descended, enveloping me, but unconsciousness only seemed to last for a few seconds. Suddenly I could remember everything clearly again; reality clung to me now like a damp curtain, suffocating me.

I sat up, drawing my legs up to my chest and rocking myself back and forth. Then, at last, my tears began to flow; uncontrollable, large, salty rivulets pouring onto my knees. I wanted to lash out as the panic and torment within me made me gasp and gulp.

'Luigi, Luigi!' I cried; sobbing into the empty, darkened room. 'Luigi, why? What will I do now without you, my precious darling?'

*

Oliver and I barely talked that evening on the flight to Sicily. He was sweet and solicitous towards me, but controlling my grief was a dreadful strain. My shameful night of erotic passion with him seemed a lifetime away; now it melted into total insignificance set against the urgency and awfulness of the present.

At last I managed to ask him about Kate.

'She's holding out okay I think, thank God. She’s unconscious still but out of danger.' His voice was quivering and I knew he must be worried sick about her. I wanted to say more but the words wouldn't come. I'd never even said yet how sorry I was about her, my own grief being so all consuming. But there would be time later.

As I sat there, a grey curtain of indescribable sadness still clung to me. An image of Luigi haunted me; of what was left of his poor body lying in a cold steel mortuary drawer somewhere. The task ahead of me seemed an insurmountable barrier. Facing members of Luigi's family for one thing, many of them still unknown to me yet, seemed overwhelmingly daunting. I prayed Maria would be there to help me out when I arrived.

She was, with Vito. We both fell sobbing into one another's arms, while Vito and Oliver shook hands awkwardly beside us. I then went to the villa with Maria while Vito took Oliver to the hospital to see Kate.

As Maria sat next to me in the back of the car holding my hand tightly she tried to tearfully explain how the crash was supposed to have occurred.

'It seems, at breakfast, your friend Kate requested to go for a drive out into the country. Vito's Alpha Romeo had just come back from being serviced and he suggested they use it.' As she spoke Maria leaned forward, carefully watching the road. Georgio was driving us.

'But
why
was Luigi driving? Georgio,
why
?' I demanded, staring at the back of Georgio's dark head.

'Signora, it was ...' Georgio started to reply but was hurriedly interrupted by Maria.

'Vito's Alpha is a two-seater sports car, Annabel. That is why.' She sank back into the seat with a huge sigh.

'I see, but ... I'm still confused. Luigi hates to drive himself!' I was instantly aware that I was talking as if he were still alive. My heart ached, knowing he wasn't. Bile rose in my throat and I wanted to vomit. I swallowed hard. It was difficult enough to accept my darling Luigi was dead, but it sickened me now to know that his last moments were spent with Kate… in a fancy sports car too! Luigi was normally driven around in luxurious limousines! Hearing all this seemed so incongruous to me.

The family would be sure to only tell me what they wanted me to know. Soon they would all arrive in full force from different parts of the country. Some I knew, some I didn't. The funeral was to be held a few days’ later in Milan and Luigi's remains would be laid to rest in the family tomb there.

In spite of Sicily being a beautiful island I could absorb none of the scenery as we drove to Vito's villa. I'd have given anything to be just about anywhere else.

'Do you know exactly how the car crashed yet?' I finally managed to ask Maria. 'Was there a collision of any kind?'

Maria sighed again and squeezed my hand, running her thumb along my forefinger. 'No, not with another car, anyway.' Her voice quavered. 'The car lost control on a hill bend and hit a tree. Another car did arrive at the spot just before the engine caught fire.'

I caught my breath. 'I didn't know that!'

'I believe it caught fire and then exploded,' said Maria, correcting herself.

'My God! What happened to Kate then?'

'It’s believed she was thrown from the car when they crashed. Unfortunately the rescuer did not see her in time and so she must have caught some of the debris from the engine exploding. I believe her injuries are mostly bad cuts and lacerations. She is also in shock of course and has been in and out of consciousness ever since.'

I was appalled, because up to now I'd hardly given Kate's injuries a great deal of thought. Oliver obviously had tactfully chosen not to tell me too much. To think of Kate's lovely face all cut and bloody instantly upset me. How bad hurt was she? How would she cope with the horror of it, especially if she was left permanently scarred?

For a tiny moment my alter ego shamefully came into play as a sudden worrying surge went through me about whether she would able to model for me any more. But everything to do with Luigi's death had shattered me so that it was only the briefest of thoughts. Besides, something so trivial was hardly important at this time. She was alive and recovering; that was all that mattered.

Oliver arrived at the villa later that evening after having seen Kate. He appeared visibly shocked by her injuries and all that he'd witnessed at the hospital. He put his arm round me limply as I went to him.

'Will she be all right?' I murmured.

'It's difficult to tell; she's in a hell of a mess and in so much pain. Of course they're pumping her with painkilling injections. She was only half conscious while I was there and had no idea who I was. Christ! She has dreadful cuts to her face, Annabel, and I'm really worried about her right eye. Hopefully she won't lose it, but apparently there was a small piece of glass embedded at the side of it when she was found.' Suddenly he was in my arms sobbing.

Together we wept for our respective loves; thoughts of all that had happened twenty-four hours previously erased completely from our minds. The horror of the present was all-consuming.

It was later that night, as I lay alone in my unfamiliar bed that the full ghastliness of what had happened came to me. Were Oliver and I being punished for our actions? Was this a kind of retribution for our infidelity? The sense of reprieve I'd felt earlier that morning before knowing about the tragedy was now replaced by revulsion; words like guilty and condemned, repeating themselves over and over in my head. I felt I was going mad.

Intense loathing and shame haunted me. I couldn't face anyone, choosing to stay quietly in my room in an attempt to come to terms with what we had done and what had now happened to our loves and our lives. How could I face the future? Did I even want a future anymore?

They called the doctor in to me the next day. Delayed shock was believed to have set in. Maria told me later that they'd found me that morning, when I hadn't appeared, curled up in my bed in a state of delirium, moaning and mumbling incoherently to myself. Medication was prescribed to help me through.

*

Two days later we all flew to Milan with Luigi's body for the funeral; of which I remembered very little. By now I was seeing everything through a haze of anti-depressant and tranquilizer induced oblivion.

I'd arranged for flowers to be sent to Kate but I couldn't face seeing her yet. Oliver assured me that she was slowly recovering. She'd also suffered some internal injuries, two broken ribs and a damaged lung. Luckily, her eye, although badly cut at the side, was not seriously hurt. The biggest concerns were her traumatised mental state and the overall laceration damage to her face.

I decided finally to await her return to England before I saw her. Oliver assured me that it didn't matter because she was totally confused about who had visited her anyway.

'Her mind's all over the place,' he said. 'And she’s having frequent bouts of uncontrollable panic, which seem to make her shake from head to foot. All together, she seems to be completely blotting the accident out.'

'I know how she feels,' I replied flatly. 'I wish I could do the same. There are other things I'd love to blot out as well.'

At this Oliver flashed me an anxious look across the table.

Maria, Gina and Vito, with whom I could not converse much, because my Italian was so poor, were having a final meal with us before I returned to England the next morning. Oliver was flying back to Sicily with them the next day to be near Kate.

Two days later I heard from him that she was out of hospital and had been flown home to a clinic in Surrey, which specialised in plastic surgery. Oliver kept in constant touch with me throughout.

Physically, she was apparently doing well despite the facial damage but mentally she was still a mess. She continued to shake and hallucinate a great deal and was still reluctant to discuss
anything
about the accident.

It was the most horrific nightmare. My whole world, as I'd once known it, had been torn apart. I'd always been so strong and determined before, so in control. Now I felt plunged into a sea of uncertainty. I was lost.

At least Kate still had the love and care of the man in her life to help her through her torment. It was more than I had.

I still couldn't face seeing her. In any case, I felt sure that if she saw my distress it would probably only add to hers. How I wished I could stretch out and feel the familiar warmth of Luigi’s presence and hear his reassuring, loving voice. But that could never be. The love of my life... my darling Luigi, was gone, gone forever, and I couldn't help feeling partly to blame. How could I go on with this guilt on my conscience?

CHAPTER 28

In the following weeks, coming to terms with my sorrow was deeply harrowing and depressing. Things were not helped by speculative interest from the media, the press especially.

Prior to my return to the UK, reports of the accident and Luigi's funeral had hinted at possible Mafia links. This notion had never once entered my head and certainly no mention of it had been made by anyone during my stay in Italy. All Italian newspapers had been kept away from me purposely and I had missed the English ones. Anyway, surely Mafia killings were usually carried out using firearms, explosives or bombs? This had been a tragic car accident.

Unable to concern myself with such remote sinister possibilities, I persuaded myself that it had to be nonsense. I'd been satisfied with the Italian police report, which stated that the car must have simply swerved badly, run out of control and crashed. That it had burst into flames after the crash was possibly a questionable factor, since I didn't think cars caught fire after crashing
that
often. But, knowing it can sometimes happen, I had accepted it in this case.

Recalling a conversation I’d had with Luigi about police collusion and cover-ups to do with Italian organised crime, left me with a minute shred of doubt that hovered in the back of my mind from time to time. But sensibility forced me to disregard it.