Page 25 of Daughter of Genoa (Escape to Tuscany)

Anna

I slept for an hour with Tiberio cuddled up in my arms and woke feeling distinctly better.

For a while I lay there holding him, listening to the familiar sounds of the house – Silvia bustling around in the kitchen, Bernardo’s gruff voice from the shop downstairs – and I thought over everything Silvia had said.

Of course, she was quite right that I felt something for Teglio, something beyond comradeship or even friendship.

It would be foolish to deny that now. But she was equally right that people formed attachments in wartime: the kind of attachments that might seem very strong in the moment, but that would never survive once the danger was past. If Teglio and I had anything, then surely it was that.

We’d spent so little time together, and when we were together then we were usually working. Really, what else could it be?

The fragment of a dream filled my mind, desire flooding in with it: Teglio holding me close, my head resting on his shoulder. Cedarwood and tobacco and warm, clean skin. ‘No,’ I said out loud, and I tipped Tiberio out of my arms and sat up. ‘No, this won’t do.’ And I went to wash my face.

All through lunch, I was perfectly collected.

Silvia seemed anxious – she fussed over me as she doled out the soup, giving me an extra share of bread and promising me an egg for breakfast, if not the next day then the day after, or the one after that.

‘One of Bernardo’s cousins is going to be visiting Genoa, and she’ll certainly bring some with her. Won’t she, Bernardo?’

‘If we’re lucky,’ Bernardo said, and took another slurp of his soup.

‘I’m sure she will,’ I said, wanting to reassure Silvia. I hadn’t seen her worried like this before, and it worried me in turn. ‘But even if she doesn’t, it’s quite all right. I’m all right,’ I said, casting a quick glance at Bernardo – but he was absorbed in his meal.

‘Are you sure?’ Silvia asked. ‘Because I know you weren’t feeling too well earlier. With a headache,’ she added for Bernardo’s benefit, although he was clearly deaf to nuance.

‘Really, I’m fine. It felt bad at the time, but it’s just a passing thing. As you said,’ I added. ‘I just needed to rest and get over the shock of last night. It all looked quite different when I woke up.’

‘Well, that’s good,’ Silvia said, although she didn’t look entirely convinced. ‘That’s very good news, if you’re feeling better. Do you feel like working this afternoon? Because I’m sure I can dig out something for you to do, if that would help. Or maybe you’d rather rest up, or do some reading—’

‘The poor girl’s going to get another headache if you keep on at her,’ Bernardo cut in.

‘I’ll read,’ I said quickly, before Silvia could respond. ‘I’d like to catch up on my reading.’

‘All right then,’ Silvia said. We finished our soup and I helped her to clear up, then drank a cup of tisane while Bernardo smoked his pipe before going down to reopen the shop. Once he’d gone, leaving a fug of tobacco behind him, Silvia turned to me.

‘I don’t think Mr X is coming for now. I wouldn’t have expected him anyway, not today, but—’

‘It’s really all right.’ I said it as brightly as I could, as if I hadn’t been listening for the doorbell myself. ‘I mean it. I’m sure he’ll come around at some point, and just like you said, I’ll know what to do then. Until then, I’m not going to fret about it.’

‘Good girl.’ Silvia gave me a quick hug. ‘Sensible. I knew you’d manage, if you would only be honest with yourself.’

‘That’s all I needed to do,’ I said. ‘Be honest with myself.’ And as I headed down the corridor to my room, I found myself almost believing it.

*

Once I was alone, I was tempted to lie down and give in: to weeping, to dreaming, to I don’t know what, but I didn’t.

Instead I sat on my bed, propped up on the pillows, and picked up Brighton Rock .

I decided that I would finish it today, rather than keep drawing it out as I had been.

I’d just reached the death of Spicer when I heard noises: a single set of footsteps ascending the stairs.

Still clutching the book, I slid from the bed and crept silently towards the door, performing frantic calculations in my mind.

It was probably Silvia. It really had to be Silvia, alone and at this time of day, but what if it wasn’t?

Should I hide in the wardrobe, or fling the door open and make a run for the bathroom instead?

I pressed my ear to the door and tried to listen past the thump of my own heartbeat.

‘Oh, damn it,’ came a low voice from the other side. Teglio. I dropped the book. ‘Marta?’ he called softly. ‘I can’t find you. Where are you?’

I opened the door and there he was, standing in the corridor, looking lost. Looking for me. For a moment, all I could do was stand there and stare at him. And then he smiled, a warm slow-dawning smile that illuminated everything.

‘There you are,’ he said, and held out his arms. There was no need to think. I went to him and nestled in, breathing his scent, marvelling that he was alive and here and with me. His heart was beating hard and fast – it sent mine racing.

‘You’re all right.’ It was a stupid thing to say, but I didn’t care. ‘You’re really all right.’

‘Yes, thankfully, though I had a hell of a scare. I think I scared a few people myself.’

‘Father Vittorio told me,’ I said. ‘He thought you were dead.’

‘So did I, for a moment,’ Teglio said with a wry laugh. ‘I’ve had some close calls in my time, but that—’

‘Don’t joke about it!’ The words burst out of me before I could stop them. My throat was tight, and I willed myself not to cry – not now, not again. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry, just… don’t. Please.’

He sighed. ‘You’re quite right,’ he said frankly, and held me tighter.

‘I oughtn’t to do it. It’s in awfully bad taste and, besides, it isn’t honest. I really did think I was finished.

I’ve been in plenty of scrapes, but I’ve never experienced a thing like that before – and I hope I never will again, because it was terrifying. ’

‘That’s better,’ I gasped. The tears were flowing now of their own accord, rolling down my cheeks and soaking the lapel of his very nice jacket.

‘Oh, my darling.’ Teglio’s voice was unbearably tender. He stroked my back as I shivered in his arms, hiding my face in his shoulder. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t meant to upset you, dearest Anna.’

That shocked me back to myself. I blinked up at him and he looked steadily back, those dark eyes fixed on mine. ‘You called me Anna,’ I said.

He looked as surprised as I was. ‘Ah. Yes, I suppose I did. Is that… is that all right?’

‘Yes. I think… I think you probably should.’ He was still looking at me – I was very aware of my flushed, tear-stained face, my nose that was perilously close to running. I almost reached for the folded handkerchief in his breast pocket, and then caught myself just in time. ‘May I…?’

‘Absolutely,’ he said. ‘What else am I for?’ He shifted his grip and, resettling me in the crook of his arm, took out the silk square and handed it to me. I dabbed at my face and tried to breathe slowly, to calm the nervous energy that was bubbling up inside me.

‘If we’re going to use our real names…’ I hesitated. ‘I mean to say, if I can call you by yours…’

‘I should say so.’

‘Well, then.’ I couldn’t look at him, couldn’t bear to see his reaction. I studied the diagonal stripe of his tie: dark green, lighter green, over and over. ‘If we are, then perhaps we ought to go somewhere private.’

‘Private,’ he repeated. ‘Private like the parlour?’

‘Like the parlour, yes. Or my room.’ I was blushing fiercely now. As if I weren’t thirty years old, and a widow; as if I’d never been with a man before. Perhaps it was simply that I hadn’t been with him . ‘We would be quite private there.’

‘Yes, we would.’ He seemed to be considering it. Maybe I’ve embarrassed myself , I thought. Maybe he’s working out a diplomatic way to let me down . I stood there in his embrace, tucked against his shoulder, and fought the urge to flee.

‘I want to take up your invitation,’ he said, and there was a new tone in his voice: something low and serious that made me thrill with hope. ‘I do. It’s just that I’m not sure when Silvia’s supposed to be back.’

I’d forgotten about Silvia. I’d forgotten about everything but him. ‘She’s gone out?’ I asked. ‘Do you know where?’

‘A meeting of some kind, Bernardo said. Church council? Youth group? One of those.’

‘Oh, good ,’ I said, without thinking. ‘Those go on for ages. But what does Bernardo think you’re doing up here?’ I forged on. I was blushing all over again. ‘What did you tell him?’

‘As far as he’s concerned, we’re stamping forms. I asked if he wanted to come up and keep an eye on us, and he looked very uncomfortable and said that there was no need for that.

Which was a relief, I must confess. But I don’t want you to think that I presumed…

’ He cleared his throat. ‘I hoped to see you, of course. But you could have given me a brisk handshake and told me to go, or refused to have anything to do with me at all, and I’d have gone like a lamb.

I still can, if you like. Or we can sit in the parlour, ten feet apart with the door open, and be terribly respectable.

We can drink tea in the kitchen and play with the cat, and I shall be as happy as anything if that’s what you want. ’

He was looking down at me: tender, worried. I knew then that I was lost.

‘I don’t want to sit in the parlour,’ I said. ‘Truly I don’t. I don’t want to sit in the kitchen and drink tea, either. I don’t want to send you away, and I certainly don’t want to be respectable. I can assure you of that.’

He broke into a wide, irresistible grin. ‘Right, then,’ he said. ‘Lead on.’

*

Once we were inside and I’d closed the door behind us, my courage faltered.

I was suddenly very conscious that I hadn’t even kissed another man since Stefano died.

I’d thought about it, of course. I’d thought about kissing Teglio often – thought, dreamed, fantasised – but now he was here in my bedroom, standing close to me, it was all intimidatingly real.

‘All right there?’ he asked.

I forced down my nerves and smiled at him the best I could. ‘Yes, of course.’

‘I wondered if we might not be feeling the same sort of thing.’ He smiled gently back at me. ‘How long have you been widowed, if it’s not too painful a question?’

‘Five years,’ I said.

He nodded. ‘Two, for me.’

I knew he was a widower; he’d said as much the first time we spoke. But it was still a shock. ‘That’s very new,’ I said.

‘Yes, it is. It feels new, sometimes. And yet… You know, I’m not sure I could say this to anyone but you. But in another way, it’s a very long time indeed.’

‘That’s it,’ I said, and he reached for my hand and squeezed it. ‘That’s it exactly. You miss the person, of course you do. That’s the part that’s fresh. But if you’re used to being married, to having someone, and then suddenly you’re alone all day and all night…’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘It gets old fast, doesn’t it?’

‘It really does. And the idea of having someone again, that closeness…’ He was still holding my hand, and his eyes were fixed on mine. I swallowed convulsively.

‘Go on,’ he said.

I made myself hold his gaze. There was no sense now in being anything but honest. ‘It’s wonderful. It’s everything I want. And it scares me. I don’t know whether I want to leap in or run away.’

‘Yes,’ he said quietly. ‘Then we’re feeling very much the same sort of thing.’

My mouth was dry. I knew in that moment exactly what I wanted. I wanted to leap, if he would leap with me. I wanted him, all of him, and the idea that he might pull back now was almost unbearable.

‘Then I shall leave the next step up to you,’ Teglio went on. ‘Everything I said before still stands. You can send me packing, or we can sit in the parlour and talk about the weather. Although personally,’ he added, ‘I’m a great proponent of leaping in.’

Relief coursed through me. I beamed at him, all shyness forgotten. ‘Yes, so am I.’

‘Oh, good,’ he said, and he leaned forward and kissed me.

It was the most natural thing in the world.

His arms wound around my waist; mine slipped around his neck.

Our bodies settled together and we kissed one another until we were breathless with need, until we had to sit down on the bed – it was the only place to sit – I tilted my head away so he could kiss my neck and oh, thank God, he did, the touch of his lips sending a fierce throb of pleasure through me.

I was shameless, then – I took his hand from my waist and brought it to my heart so he could feel it beating, so he could know what I wanted him to do next.

‘You’re sure?’ he murmured into my ear. His fingers found the top button of my blouse and played with it, teasing, promising.

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Yes, Massimo.’