And Thereby Hangs a Tale (28 page)

Even if he couldn't afford a room, nothing was
going to stop him speaking to her. He pushed open the door, walked up to the counter
and smiled. She returned the compliment, which made her look even more radiant.

'Vorrei una camera per la notte,' he said.

She looked down at the register. 'I'm sorry,'
she replied in English, revealing only the slightest accent, 'but we're fully
booked. In fact, the last room was taken just a few moments ago.'

Richard glanced across at a row of keys dangling
on hooks behind her. 'Are you sure you don't have anything?' he asked. 'I don't
care how small the room is,' he added as he peered over the counter at a short
list of upside-down names.

Once again, she glanced down at the guest register.
'No, I'm sorry,' she repeated. 'One or two guests haven't checked in yet, but I
can't release their rooms because they've paid in advance. Have you tried La
Contessina? They may still have a room.'

'Not one that I can afford,' said Richard.

She nodded understandingly. 'There's an old lady
who runs a guest house at the bottom of the hill, but you'll have to hurry
because she locks her door at eleven.'

'Would you be kind enough to call her and ask
if she has a room?'

'She doesn't have a phone.'

'Perhaps I could spend the night in the lounge?'
said Richard hopefully. 'Would anyone notice?' He tried out the boyish grin Melanie
had once assured him was irresistible.

The receptionist frowned for the first time.

'If the manageress were to discover you were
sleeping in the lounge, not only would she throw you out, but I'd probably lose
my job.'

'So it will have to be the nearest field,'
he said.

She looked at Richard more closely, leaned across
the counter and whispered, 'Take the lift to the top floor and wait there. If
any of the bookings don't show up before midnight, you can have their room.'

'Thank you,' said Richard, wanting to give her
a hug.

'You'd better leave your bag in reception,'
she added without explanation.

He took off his rucksack and she quickly placed
it under the counter. 'Thank you,' he repeated, before making his way across
to the lift. When the door opened, the porter stepped out and stood to one
side, giving Richard a warm smile as he entered it.

The little lift whirred its way slowly up to
the top floor and when he stepped out into a dark corridor that was lit by a
single, uncovered bulb, Richard couldn't believe he was still in the same
hotel. As there wasn't a chair to be seen, he hunched down on the well-trodden
carpet, his back against the wall, already regretting that he hadn't taken the
book out of his rucksack. For a moment he considered returning to the lobby to
retrieve it, but the thought of coming face to face with the manageress and
being thrown out onto the street was enough to convince him to stay put.

After a few minutes he stood up and began to
pace restlessly up and down the corridor, frequently checking his watch.

When midnight struck on the town hall clock,
he decided he'd rather sleep in the open air than hang around in that corridor
a moment longer. He walked across to the lift, pressed the button and waited.
When the doors finally opened, she was standing there, looking even more
seductive in the half-light.

She stepped out of the lift, took him by the
hand and led him along the corridor until they reached a door with no number.
She placed a key in the lock, opened the door and pulled him inside.

Richard looked around a room that wasn't much
larger than his college study, and was almost completely taken up by a bed that
was neither a single nor quite a double. The family photographs dotted around
the walls suggested that this was where she lived. As there was only one small
chair, he wondered where she expected him to sleep.

'I won't be a moment,' she said, and gave
him that disarming smile again before disappearing into the bathroom. Richard
sat down on the wooden chair and waited for her to reappear, not certain what
he should do next.

When he heard a shower being turned on, a hundred
thoughts began to race through his head. He was thinking about Melanie, his first
real girlfriend, when the bathroom door swung open. He hadn't looked at another
woman for the past two years. She stepped out, dressed in a bathrobe, the cord
undone.

'You look as if you need a shower,' she
said, leaving the door open as she brushed past him.

'Thank you,' he replied, and disappeared
inside, closing the door behind him. Richard enjoyed the feeling of the warm
water cascading down on him, and with the assistance of a bar of soap he slowly
removed the dirt and grime of a long, hot, sweaty day. After he'd dried
himself, he once again regretted leaving his rucksack downstairs, as he didn't
want to put his dirty clothes back on. He looked around the room and spotted
another hotel bathrobe hanging on the back of the door. He was surprised how
well it fitted.

Richard turned out the bathroom light and tentatively
opened the door. The room was dark, but he could see the outline of her lithe
body under a single sheet. As he stood there, a hand pulled the sheet back. He
tiptoed across the room and sat upright on the edge of the bed. She pulled the
sheet further back, but didn't speak. He lay down on the bed, his back to her.

A moment later, he felt a hand undo the cord
of his bathrobe, while the other hand tried to take it off. He
was thinking about Melanie when the receptionist finally pulled off his robe,
threw it on the floor and slid her naked body up against his back.

When she began to kiss the nape of his neck,
Melanie evaporated. Richard didn't move a muscle as she began to explore his
body, first his neck, then his back, with one hand, while the other
moved slowly up the inside of his thigh. He turned over and took her in his arms.
She felt so enticing that he wanted to switch the light back on and enjoy the
sight of her naked body. When he kissed her, he felt a desire he'd never
experienced with any other woman, and when they made love, it was as if it were
the first time. As she lay back, Richard still held her in his arms, not
wanting to fall asleep.

He woke when he felt her hand moving gently
up the inside of his leg. This time he made love slowly and with more confidence,
and she made no attempt to disguise her feelings. He couldn't be sure how many
times they made love before the morning sun came streaming into the room, and
he saw, for the first time, just how beautiful she was.

When the town hall clock struck eight, she whispered,
'You'll have to leave, il mio amore. I'm expected back on duty at nine.'

Richard kissed her gently on the lips,
slipped out of bed and went into the bathroom. After a quick shower, he put on
his old clothes.

When he returned to the bedroom she was standing
by the window. He walked across, took her in his arms and looked hopefully down
at the bed.

'Time for you to go,' she whispered after
giving him one last kiss.

'I'll never forget you,' he told her. She
smiled wistfully.

She pushed the window up and pointed
silently to the fire escape. Richard climbed out and began to tiptoe down the
iron staircase, trying not to make too much noise. When his feet touched the
ground, he looked up and caught a final glimpse of her naked body. She blew him
a kiss, making him wish it was the first day of his holiday and not the last.

He crept stealthily around some flower pots and
down a gravel pathway that led to a trellised gate. He opened the gate and
found himself back on the street. He made his way to the front of the hotel,
and once again looked through the glass door. The beautiful vision of last
night had been replaced by an overweight middle-aged woman, who could only have
been the manager.

Richard checked his watch. He needed to collect
his rucksack and be on his way if he hoped to see the fresco of the Madonna del
Parto and still leave himself enough time to catch the train for Florence.

He walked into the hotel more confidently this
time, and strolled up to the counter. The manager raised her head, but didn't
smile.

'Buongiorno,' said Richard.

'Buongiorno,' she replied, taking a closer look
at him. 'How can I help you?'

'I left my rucksack here last night and I've
come back to collect it.'

'Do you know anything about this, Demetrio?'
she asked, not taking her eyes off Richard.

'Si, signora,' the porter replied, removing
the rucksack from behind his desk and placing it on the counter. 'This one, if
I remember, sir,' he said, giving Richard a wink.

'Thank you,' said Richard, who would have liked
to give him a tip, but... he pulled the rucksack over his shoulder and turned
to leave.

'Did you stay with us last night?' asked the
manager just as he reached the door.

'No I didn't,' said Richard, turning round.

'Unfortunately, I arrived a little too late,
and you didn't have a room.'

The manager glanced down at the register and
frowned. 'You say you tried to get a room last night?'

'Yes, but you were fully booked.'

'That's strange,' she said, 'because there
were several rooms available last night.'

Richard couldn't think of a suitable reply.

'Demetrio,' she said, turning to the porter,
'who was on duty last night?'

'Carlotta, signora.'

Richard smiled. Such a pretty name.

'Carlotta,' the manager repeated, shaking
her head. 'I'll need to have a word with the girl.

When is she back on?'

Nine o'clock, Richard almost blurted out.

'Nine o'clock, signora,' said the porter.

The manager turned back towards Richard.

'I must apologize, signor. I hope you were not
inconvenienced.'

'Not at all,' said Richard as he opened the door,
but he didn't look back for fear that she might see the smile on his face.

The manager waited until the door was closed
before she turned to the porter and said, 'You know, Demetrio, it's not the
first time she's done that.'

T
HE DRIVER OF the open-top red Porsche touched
his brakes, slipped the gear lever in-to neutral and brought the car to a halt
at the lights before checking his watch. He was running a few minutes late for
his lunch appointment. As he waited for the light to turn
green, he noticed several men admiring his car, while the women smiled at him.

Jamwal gently touched the accelerator. The engine
purred like a tiger and the smiles became even broader. Far more men than usual
seemed to be looking in his direction. As the light turned green, he heard an
engine revving up to his left. He glanced across to see a Ferrari accelerate
away before dodging in and out of the morning traffic. He put his foot down and
chased after the man who had dared to steal his thunder.

The Ferrari screeched to a halt at the next
set of lights, only just avoiding a cow that was sitting in the middle of the
road like a traffic bollard. Jamwal drew up by the side of his challenger, and
couldn't believe his eyes. The young woman seated behind the wheel didn't give
him so much as a glance, although he couldn't take his eyes off her.

When the light turned green, she accelerated
away and left him standing again. Jamwal threw the gear lever into first and
chased after her, searching for even the hint of a gap in the traffic that
might allow him to over-take her. For the next minute, he kept one hand on the
steering wheel and the other on the horn as he swerved from lane to lane, narrowly
missing bicycles, rickshaws, taxis, buses and trucks that had no intention of moving
aside for him. She matched him yard for yard, and he only just managed to catch
her up by the time she came to a reluctant halt at the next traffic lights.

Jamwal drew up by her side and took a closer
look. She was wearing an elegant cream silk dress that, like her car, could
only have been designed by an Italian, although his mother certainly wouldn't
have approved of the way the hemline rose high enough for him to admire her
shapely legs. His eyes returned to her face as she once again accelerated away,
leaving him in her slipstream.

When he caught up with her at the next
intersection, she turned and graced him with a smile that lit up her whole
face.

When the lights changed this time, Jamwal was
ready to pounce, and they took off together, matching each other cyclist for
cyclist, cow for cow, rickshaw for rickshaw, until they both had to throw on
their brakes and screech to a halt when a traffic cop held up an insistent arm.

When the policeman waved them on, Jamwal took
off like a greyhound out of the slips and shot into the lead for the first
time. But his smile of triumph turned to a frown when he glanced in his
rear-view mirror to see her slowing down and driving into the entrance of the
Taj Mahal Hotel. He cursed, threw on his brakes and executed a U-turn that
resulted in a cacophony of horns, shaking fists and crude expletives as he
tried not to lose sight of her.