Irresistible You (24 page)

Elena’s first morning in Positano was spent taking a coastal path around the cliffs. The sea was a thousand shades of blue and the spring sunshine had forced her to roll up the sleeves of her jumper.

She walked with quick, definite strides, as if she knew where she was going. She didn’t, of course. She was just following the set route in the hope of finding a little bit of peace and space.

She stopped and sat down on a low, sun-warmed stone wall and let her gaze fall down the sheer slope to the sea. Her mama had woken her early with a cup of coffee and the subtle words, ‘Wake up! You’ve got a lot of thinking to do!’

‘Thanks, Mama,’ she’s muttered back, pulling the sheets around her face in an attempt to escape back into sleep. It didn’t work, of course. If Elena had needed any reminding as to where Rosanna got her plate-clattering-in-the-sink skills from, she’d had it that morning. Her mama had moved through the house with the force of a tornado, only she managed to make more noise.

‘Ah! You’re up at last,’ she’d said when Elena had surfaced, as if that hadn’t been her intention all along. ‘I’ve got to go out,’ she’d added.

Elena nodded, thinking that she might be able to sneak back into bed.

‘I’ll drop you in town,’ her mama said. ‘Come on! I’m leaving in ten minutes.’

Elena didn’t bother arguing. Her mama had told her to go for a walk to, ‘get your head cleared out’, and so here she was. But just how did you clear your head out? She’d crammed so much into hers recently that she didn’t know where to begin.

For a moment, she thought about the golden mask. She’d brought it with her and it was safely stashed in the boot of her hire car in case her mama had a surreptitious rifle through her luggage.

Hadn’t Stefano told her that the mask would help her with her decisions? It couldn’t help her here in Positano, could it? Maybe the mask only worked in Venice.

All of a sudden, everything became clear. She had to go back to Venice. As surely as she’d had to leave, she had to return. She’d had to get away in order to do that, she could see that now, and she would return with a clear head – and a plan.

Although Elena would never admit it, her mama had been right all along. There was no getting away from facing up to her responsibilities.

With this new resolution, Elena got up and route-marched back along the coastal path. She was going back tonight and she was taking Fernando the bear with her.

*

On Sandro’s arrival back, Rosanna had been relegated to the spare bedroom. Life in the luxurious double bed upstairs was over. It was a good job, she thought, that Elena had left when she had otherwise she’d have had to explain that to Sandro as well as the two male visitors. Luckily, Sandro hadn’t asked any more questions about Reuben and Mark, and Rosanna had been careful not to mention them, even though she had plans for Reuben.

‘This artist of yours,’ Sandro said over a cup of coffee on his first morning back, ‘do I know his work?’

Rosanna bit her lip. ‘His name is Reuben Lord and he’s English.’

‘Never heard of him,’ Sandro said dismissively. ‘He can’t be that good if I’ve never heard of him.’

‘He’s very good,’ she said.
‘Just waiting for his big break, that’s all. Just like you had to wait for yours – remember?’

Sandro nodded thoughtfully. ‘It was always coming, of course, but it took its time all the same,’ he said.

Rosanna curled her fingers up into a tight ball. He really could be the most conceited of people sometimes.

‘And Reuben’s will come too and just imagine how wonderful it would be if you had some sort of knowledge of that. He could be your protégé!’

Sandro’s eyebrows rose. ‘Yes!’ he said, a finger raised to his mouth. ‘You might have something there. I’d have to see his work, of course, before I committed myself.’

‘Of course,’ Rosanna said, humouring him.

‘I wouldn’t want to put in a good word for him in the circles I now move in if his work was inferior.’

‘And I’m sure he’d look after your
Bimba
,’ Rosanna said, crawling into his favour on Reuben’s behalf.

‘He’s kind, then?’

Rosanna nodded. ‘Oh, yes,’ she said, not bothering to tell Sandro how Reuben had recently dumped Elena for her without so much as a text message.

‘And he’s in Venice now?’

‘Yes.’

Sandro frowned as a thought raced through his mind. ‘He isn’t one of those men who was here in my studio when I came home, is he?’

Rosanna paused as she tried to think of a way around this.

‘Because I didn’t like those guys,’ he elaborated. ‘They looked like freeloaders.’

‘You think everyone looks like a freeloader.’

‘Everybody
is
a freeloader!’

Rosanna glared at him. ‘Are you including me in your sweeping statement?’

Sandro glared back at her and then started to giggle like a girl. ‘My dear Rosanna! You are a delightful exception.’

Rosanna continued to glare at him, not sure what he meant by that comment but relieved that it had got them away from Sandro’s cross-questioning as to who Reuben was.

‘So,’ Rosanna began, ‘do you want me to talk to my friend about your apartment or not?’

Sandro sighed. ‘Yes, yes! If he’s a friend of yours, that’s good enough for me.’

‘And it will be a special rate rent?’

‘If he agrees to look after my
Bimba
.’

‘He will.’

‘And he won’t be able to move any of the canvases I leave here. It will still be my apartment.’

‘Of course, Sandro.
He’ll have every respect for your work,’ Rosanna said, thinking that it would all probably be moved down to the basement at the earliest opportunity.

‘Then we might well have an agreeable arrangement.’

Rosanna smiled to herself. She couldn’t wait to tell Reuben.

*

Emiliana was delighted with Elena’s decision.

‘You won’t regret it!’ she told her earnestly. ‘You and Rosanna have many things to sort out but it will all work out in the end, believe me.’

The more her mama went, the more Elena became nervous.

‘Families must stick together,’ she went on.
‘Through the good times
and
the bad.’

Why was it, Elena wondered, that you were always fed clichés at such times? It was one of the few times in her life when she needed to hear something good and honest and original.
Prof would have those sort of comforting words for her, she felt sure of that. Yes, her dear Prof would be just the right sort of person to talk to if only he wasn’t bound up in all this business too.

‘Mama,’ Elena said, ‘I’m going to make a call.’

Her mama said something about keeping it short as she wasn’t made of Euros.

‘I’ll be using my mobile.’

‘I didn’t know you had a mobile.’

‘No. I just got it,’ Elena lied.

She walked through to her bedroom and fished in her suitcase for the phone she kept hidden. Was she really going to do this? She supposed she had to. She had to make a start on sorting out the huge mess she’d got herself into.

She rang the number and waited.

‘Hello?’

‘Prof?’

‘Elena? Is that you?’

‘Of course it is! Who else calls you Prof?’ she said, immediately feeling at ease for hearing his kind voice.

‘Where are you?’

‘I’m in-’ she hesitated. ‘I’m in Positano,’ she finished.

‘I thought you were in Venice.’

‘I was. And I will be again this evening.’

‘I thought I saw you the other day – at the Danieli here. Were you here?’

Elena gasped. She really wanted to sort things out but she wasn’t ready to confess everything yet.

‘No,’ she lied, her face screwing up at her horrible lie. ‘But I saw you,’ she said.

‘You did? Well, why didn’t you say something?’

‘You were with somebody.’

There was a moment’s silence.

‘Elena,’ Prof began, ‘it’s not what you’re thinking.’

Elena grimaced. She’d rung her dear Prof to get away from clichés. ‘I wasn’t thinking anything.’

‘I just met this woman and we had lunch.’

‘Oh.’

‘A few times, actually. She’s very nice. You’d like her.’

Elena frowned. Prof would make a terrible adulterer.

‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘that didn’t come out quite how I meant it.’

‘It’s all right,’ she said.

‘No. It isn’t,’ he said. ‘I feel terrible about it.’

‘Why?’

‘Because every minute I was with her, I should have been with you.’

Elena paused. She wasn’t sure what to say. And what exactly was
he
saying? He was feeling guilty but did that mean he still loved her? And did she love him?

‘Prof,’ she began hesitantly.

‘Yes?’

‘How do you feel about me?’

‘What do you mean?’

She took a deep breath. She wasn’t being very fair, was she? She knew how she felt about him. She wasn’t in love with him. She didn’t think she ever had been.

‘Elena?’

‘I’m still here.’

‘You sound strange,’ he said. ‘What’s wrong? Why are you asking me how I feel about you? You know how I feel.’

‘Yes,’ she said in a whisper. ‘But I’m not sure how I feel about you any more.’

‘Is this because of Anastasia?’

‘Who?’

‘The woman I was with because she wasn’t anything to do with us-’

‘I know,’ she assured him. ‘And it’s got nothing to do with her. This is just about me. I’ve not been fair to you, Prof.
I’ve been selfish and mean and you deserve better than that.’

‘Elena, are you breaking up with me?’

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I’ll return your ring.’

‘Sod the ring! I don’t want the ring – I want
you
!’

‘Do you? Do you really?’

‘Yes! Of course I do. I don’t go around proposing to anybody, you know. It took me forty-nine years to pluck up the courage to ask you.’

‘But I’m all wrong for you.’

‘Why do you say that? Is it the age thing?’

‘No.’

‘Then what?’

‘I just don’t think we’re suited – not really.’

‘But we get on so well.’

Elena sighed.

‘Look,’ he said, ‘I don’t want to break up with you on the phone. This is horrible.’

‘I know it is and I’m so sorry but I had to tell you. I’ve not been very honest with you lately – with anyone, in fact,’ she said. That was the closest she was going to get to the truth.

There was a pause and a crackle of static on the phone.

‘Are you still there?’ she asked.

‘I’m still here. I’ll always be here for you, Elena.’

Elena felt tears spring to her eyes. ‘No,’ she said, ‘don’t be. I don’t deserve you.’ And then she hung up.

The Alilaguna from the airport was packed with holidaymakers keen for their first glimpse of Venice. Elena could safely say that she was the only person on board who was dreading reaching her destination. The flight back had been delayed by an hour and she’d been sat in front of a baby who’d howled for the entire journey. Now, she felt hot and irritable.

When they reached the Fondamenta Nove, it was nearly lunchtime. Elena dragged her suitcase off the boat and followed the waterfront round over the Ponte Panada and dipped into a calle. Making sure it was all quiet, she reached into her coat pocket for the mask and put it on, keeping hold of her suitcase. She loved the fact that the mask not only turned her invisible but anything she was holding too so that her suitcase disappeared which was a blessing really because a suitcase going for a walk on its own would have looked a bit peculiar.

It took only about eight seconds for the mask to work its magic this time which was just as well because a couple of teenagers turned into the calle kicking a football. They didn’t seem to notice when it bounced off her invisible suitcase.

Elena took the familiar route from the waterfront to the apartment, wondering if Rosanna would be in and how she was going to get in herself if there was anybody around. She took the key out of her handbag and boldly inserted it into the keyhole, turning the handle and letting herself in. That was the easy bit. If she closed the door behind her, it would make a clang worthy of a medieval castle and she had to be sure nobody was in before she did that.

Standing absolutely still, she craned her neck up the flight of stone steps into the living room. She couldn’t tell if the place was empty or not: it was so huge that there might very well be a party going on in the spare room at the back and she wouldn’t be able to hear. She waited. At last, she felt sure she heard a voice: a man’s voice. What could she do? She could simply leave the door open: it was a quiet area and everyone knew everybody else, but that would probably get Rosanna into trouble. Yet she had to get in. She couldn’t afford hotel prices and didn’t want to have to go as far as the mainland. And she needed to see Rosanna – that was what she’d planned.

Leaving the door very slightly ajar, she walked slowly up the steps into the apartment. The voice was becoming louder now but it wasn’t one she recognised which meant it wasn’t Mark or Reuben. Who could it be? Not Corrado, surely?

Then she had her answer: in the kitchen, a tall, thin man with foppish hair was stooped down stroking cat-child.
Sandro.

Whilst he was making a fuss of the cat, Elena took the opportunity to sneak through to the spare bedroom at the back of the apartment. Three stone steps led down into it and she carried her suitcase down them carefully, trying not to knock or scrape anything.

Pushing the bedroom door open, she crossed the room and shoved her suitcase under the bed. It was then that she noticed a nightgown on the other single bed in the room. It was Rosanna’s nightgown. Of course! If Sandro was back, Rosanna would be relegated to the spare bedroom which meant that Elena couldn’t possibly sleep in there.

Or could she? A sudden thought occurred to her. What would happen if she wore the mask at night? She wouldn’t be able to sleep under the covers because she’d still take up space and that would show but what if she slept on the bed itself? Rosanna wouldn’t be any the wiser, would she? Elena didn’t snore or anything. She might just get away with it but perhaps she’d be best to check before she put the mask to the test. She’d never worn it longer than a few minutes and didn’t know what it was capable of.

Entering the living room, she saw that Sandro was now standing in front of one of his easels wearing the discontented look artists often wore. The canvas he was looking at was one of a street scene – obviously New York, and he didn’t look happy with it. As he walked back to examine it, an idle finger found its way up his right nostril where it scratched, twirled and scraped. Elena grinned to herself. It was still a great novelty for her to witness what she shouldn’t be witnessing but she didn’t hang around. She was a woman on a mission.

Leaving the door slightly ajar, she ran out of the small calle and on into the heart of Venice. After her journey by car, plane and Alilaguna, it was good to stride out through the streets again. Cannaregio always felt safe and Elena soon took her mask off and lost herself in the Easter crowds heading towards the Accademia Bridge. She smiled as she saw the monstrous Easter eggs filling the shop windows, and dark chocolate bells bejewelled with bright flowers.

The streets of Dorsoduro were teeming with tourists too who blocked bridges in their attempts to get the perfect photograph. Workers, too, caused chaos as they tried to manoeuvre goods over endless steps in metal trolleys, reminding Elena that everything in Venice had to be shipped in.

Thankfully, it became quieter when she turned into the little calle that led to Viviana’s. When she’d first arrived in Venice, she’d got the feeling that it wasn’t just a labyrinth but a labyrinth that changed every day, so she’d been surprised by the speed at which she’d learnt to navigate the backstreets.

She felt a sudden sense of calm as she neared the shop – as if she’d been going there for years - feeling as if Stefano and Viviana were part of her family rather than people she’d only met a few days ago.

She saw that there were a few new masks in the window: a couple of the traditional bautas and a new jester with pretty silver bells and, inside the shop, there was a huge wooden chest full of bright faces. The original gold mask was still in the window too, its skin gleaming and its hollow eyes seeming to take in the whole of Elena in a simple glance, and Elena couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if she put that mask on. Were all the masks in the shop passports to adventure? Stefano seemed so sure that he’d given Elena the right mask for her but her curiosity was getting the better of her and she pushed open the door and heard the merry tinkle of the shop bell.

Once again, there was nobody around and the curious silence of the shop enveloped her. Elena turned to look into the window, her heart hammering inside her chest as she leant forward to pick up the golden mask which had enticed her into the shop in the first place.

‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you,’ Stefano said, making Elena jump.

‘Stefano?’ she said. ‘I didn’t hear you.’

‘I’m never far away,’ he said.

‘No,’ Elena said, and it was true. She didn’t know for sure what he got up to in his secret room at the back of the shop. Most of the other mask shops had counters and work benches in the shop itself but not Stefano. Some of the tools of his work were on display along with the occasional mask but, for the most part, he kept his trade under wraps – away from the glare of inquisitive eyes.

‘Why did you want to try it on?’ he asked.

‘I – I don’t know.’

‘You must know.’

Elena’s glance fell to the floor. She felt so silly having been caught like that. What did she think she was doing? Wasn’t one mask enough?

‘I’m sorry,’ she said at last.

Stefano nodded. ‘They’re addictive, aren’t they? I should know.’

Elena stared at him and saw a strange light dancing in his eyes. There were hidden worlds there, she thought: secrets and surprises and mysteries and magic. He knew things that would never pass into the realm of ordinary people. Elena had had a glimpse of it with her mask but how much more was there to find out? Perhaps she’d never know.

‘Be content,’ he said. ‘You have the right mask for you.’

‘I know,’ Elena said, feeling spoilt and ungrateful. ‘And it’s the mask I’ve come to ask you about. I need it to help me with something.’

‘Good,’ Stefano said. ‘I’m pleased it’s of use.’

‘Oh, it is,’ Elena said. ‘I mean, I hope it will be. The thing is, I need to wear it all night and I was wondering if that was possible.’

There was a pause when Stefano’s white eyebrows lowered over his dark eyes and his face was stiff with concentration.

‘You need to wear the mask
all
night?’ he said with a look of extreme concern.

‘Yes,’ Elena said. ‘Is it okay if I do?’

‘It should be okay,’ he said thoughtfully.

‘You’re sure?’

He nodded. ‘There’s only one way to find out,’ he said, and he gave a little chuckle. Elena wasn’t at all sure she felt comforted by him.

*

Rosanna had called Reuben’s hotel to arrange to meet at a café in a nearby campiello. She wasn’t going to turn up at his hotel, that was for sure. Things were moving far too quickly with Reuben and she wanted them to slow down. That’s what she told herself as she left to meet him. But she knew it didn’t make any sense because she was about to try and persuade him to leave his life behind in London, move to Venice and rent Sandro’s apartment. If that wasn’t forward, she didn’t know what was. For one thing, they hardly knew each other, and there was still the problem of Elena to sort out.

‘I think you should go and see her,’ Rosanna blurted as soon as they met.

‘What?’ Reuben said, his dark eyes narrowing. ‘Why? She broke up with me.’

‘But that doesn’t change the fact that we’re together now.
Even if you two had broken up anyway.’ Rosanna sighed. She’d been so excited by the idea of Reuben renting Sandro’s apartment but, before they talked about it, they had to discuss Elena. ‘This problem isn’t going to go away, you know. It isn’t just going to get better because of the passing of time. If anything, it will get worse. These things have a habit of festering and getting out of all proportion.’

‘I know,’ Reuben agreed. ‘But I can’t see what to do about it. She ran away from us, remember? I don’t think she wants us to go after her.’

Rosanna shook her head. Reuben sounded just like Mark but Rosanna wasn’t so sure about his belief in what Elena wanted.

‘I think I should go.’

Reuben shook his head. ‘I don’t think that’s a very good idea.’

But Rosanna didn’t appear to be listening to him and got her mobile from her bag and rang her mama’s number.

‘Mama? I think it might be a good idea if I visited.’ There was a pause. ‘What? Back here? Are you sure? I’ve not heard from her. What time?’ There was another pause. ‘Do you know where she’s staying? Oh.’

‘What is it?’ Reuben asked but Rosanna waved her hand at him.

‘No. I’ll stay here. Perhaps she’s waiting for me at Sandro’s. Okay. I’ll call soon and let you know what’s happening.’

Rosanna switched her phone off and looked across the table at Reuben. ‘Elena’s left Mama’s and is back in Venice.’

‘When? Where?’

‘I’ve absolutely no idea. But that’s a good sign, isn’t it? I mean, she wouldn’t have come back unless she was ready to talk, would she?’

Reuben shook his head. ‘It might mean she’s come back to kill you.’

Rosanna’s eyes widened in horror.
‘I don’t know why you think it’s funny.’

‘I don’t!’

‘Because, if she wants to kill me, she’ll probably want to kill you too!’

*

After leaving Vivianas’s, Elena took a vaporetto to San Marco from where she walked down the Riva degli Schiavoni. The further she went, the quieter it became - the majority of tourists not venturing much further than the Bridge of Sighs. The pavement broadened out into the lagoon and the sunshine made the distant view back to the Doges’ Palace and the campanile hazy and dreamlike. Boats danced across the water and a few gulls mirrored their movement in the lilac sky above.

Elena found a white stone seat to sit on. There was no point in going back to the apartment just yet to sit perfectly still and invisible. She wasn’t sure where Rosanna was or when she’d be back but she wasn’t going to hang around waiting for her. But what
was
she going to do when Rosanna did get back? She’d seemed so sure of herself in Positano but now butterflies fluttered with worry in her stomach. She felt so nervous. She really wanted to sort things out; it was the only way they could all move forward but what if everything went horribly wrong? She knew she’d acted irresponsibly and been unfair to Reuben - to all her fiancés - but she was determined to make amends, she just wasn’t quite sure how.

*

Watching the world go by was one of the loveliest pastimes in Venice but two hours was more than enough and Elena got up with a numb bottom. She managed to get back into the apartment easily. Sandro had gone out and Rosanna was still out too. Probably with Reuben, she thought. The traitors. She groaned; she still felt so angry and betrayed by both of them and yet felt guilty and appalled at hating them both for it.

She crossed the living room and headed down the steps which led to the spare room at the back of the apartment. There were two double beds there and Rosanna had taken the one on the right. Elena had already hidden her suitcase under the one on the left and observed that there was a good ten feet between the beds so that should prevent them from knocking into each other unintentionally in the night, and at least there wasn’t a chance that Reuben would be calling at the apartment now that Sandro was back.