Guilty Page 13

But what could she expect? she asked herself despairingly. She hadn’t been able to concentrate on anything since Julie’s call, and her brain just kept running in circles, trying to find some way to extricate itself from the proposed invitation.

  Of course, when she had attempted to make her excuses to Julie, her daughter had proved quite implacable in her determination that Laura should not let her down. ‘Jake’s parents want to meet you,’ she’d said, in answer to her mother’s wavering uncertainty. ‘Don’t ask me why. They do, and that’s all there is to it. Besides, I should have thought you’d welcome the chance to get away for a few days. It will be half-term, won’t it? I told Jake I thought it was.’

  So they were still seeing one another, Laura had acknowledged unsteadily, wondering why that news didn’t give her the reassurance it should. Were they still sleeping together? Of course they were. She had practically guaranteed it by her attitude.

  ‘Well—–’ she’d begun, but Julie wasn’t taking no for an answer.

  ‘Don’t start making up reasons why you shouldn’t come!’ she’d exclaimed impatiently. ‘It’s not as if I’m asking much. Just a few days of your time, that’s all.’

  After that, there wasn’t a lot Laura could say, and, as if she knew she had won the day, Julie went on to tell her the exciting news, that her agent had been approached by a film producer, with a view to Julie’s being offered a screen test.

  ‘Isn’t it fantastic?’ she’d exclaimed, and Laura could tell by her tone that this was more important to her daughter than a weekend spent in the Tuscan countryside. ‘You know how much I’ve always loved acting and, according to Harry, anyone can act on film. It’s just a question of learning your lines, that’s all.’

  Laura thought she had managed to sound reasonably enthusiastic, although she couldn’t honestly remember her daughter showing any particular interest in drama classes at school. Still, if that was what Julie wanted, who was she to try and stop her? Julie had rung off with the promise that she would ring again in a few days, to make the final arrangements. In the meantime, Laura should check that her passport was in order, and be ready to leave in a little over two weeks.

  ‘And buy yourself some decent clothes,’ Julie had added, as an afterthought. ‘The Lombardis are bound to live in some style, and I don’t want you letting me down.’

  At the moment, however, Laura was convinced she would never be ready. The idea of flying to Italy with Jake and Julie, of spending a weekend in their company, parrying Jake’s parents’ questions, and pretending she approved of their relationship, sounded like the worst kind of nightmare. How could she meet Jake again, let alone behave as if nothing had happened? Dear God, could this possibly be his idea? A way of punishing her for repulsing him? A way of trying to make her jealous?

  But she wasn’t jealous, she groaned, leaving the table, where she had been working, and flinging herself on to the sofa. The unaccustomed exertion caused her aching head to throb, and she thrust restless hands into her hair, dislodging the pins, and bringing its weight down around her shoulders. She couldn’t be jealous, she told herself again. Jake meant nothing to her. She was just working herself up into a state unnecessarily, making herself miserable over a man who had no compunction about betraying her daughter.

  Nevertheless, in the days that followed, Laura could think of no way to avoid the coming trip. Although she might have had perfectly valid reasons for not going, they were not reasons she could voice—not unless she wanted to alienate her daughter, once and for all. Of course, there was still the possibility that Julie might find out that Jake had spent two days at the cottage, without her knowledge. But, as time went by, that was becoming less likely. Julie spent so little time at Burnfoot, and it would be something of a coincidence if anyone made such a connection. After all, she had been with him the previous weekend, and it had probably been assumed that she was with him again. Why not? It was the most obvious conclusion, when all was said and done.

  Which left Laura with the problem of preparing for a trip, for which she might have no enthusiasm, but which she couldn’t ignore. As Julie had so unkindly pointed out, her present wardrobe would not stretch to the kind of occasions she might be expected to attend. She didn’t even possess an evening dress, and, although she had no intention of buying some entirely extravagant creation, she knew a shopping trip to Newcastle was unavoidable.

  However, the idea of going alone was not appealing, and a week later she rang Jess, and asked her if she fancied repeating their previous outing. ‘Something’s come up,’ she said, hoping Jess wouldn’t expect her to go into too much detail over the phone. ‘I need a suit, and maybe a couple of dresses. I’ll tell you why when I see you. What do you say?’

  To her relief, Jess was enthusiastic. And she didn’t ask her why she needed to supplement the shirts and trousers bought on their earlier trip, though Laura sensed she was dying to. But Jess was obviously prepared to wait until Saturday to hear all about it, and, after making the necessary arrangements, Laura rang off.

  She was in the bath, when her phone rang on Friday evening.

  Laura guessed it was Julie. She had seen Mark earlier in the day, and reluctantly agreed to have dinner with him that evening, so she was fairly sure it wasn’t him. It could always be Mrs Forrest, of course. Her twice-weekly cleaner sometimes rang to change her arrangements, but very rarely. Besides, something told her it wasn’t Mrs Forrest. Although she wasn’t psychic, Laura sensed the call was long-distance.

  She sat for a moment, calculating her chances of getting out of the bath, and getting downstairs to answer it, before it stopped ringing, and decided they were poor. She had been caught that way before, and she was loath to leave the warm, soapy water for an abortive spring to the phone. Even so, when it continued to ring, long after she had expected it to stop, her conscience pricked her. If it was Julie, she ought to answer it. It was no use avoiding the inevitable.

  But, although she made a belated foray for the towel, the phone stopped ringing before she had chance to leave the bathroom. Instead, when she opened the door, just to make sure she wasn’t mistaken, the house was silent, and with a guilty sense of aggravation she climbed back into the bath.

  But her mood of relaxation was shattered, and she didn’t spend any longer than she had to in the water. Instead, she concentrated on getting ready for her date with Mark, unwillingly aware that she was going to spend the whole evening worrying about that call.

  She decided to wear the cream wool dress again. Mark hadn’t seen it, and, although it aroused a disturbing memory of the evening she had spent with Jake, she refused to let that deter her. She couldn’t afford to discard the dress, just because of its associations, and by wearing it to go out with Mark she would dispel that particular myth.

  She was making a final examination of her appearance, when the phone rang again. Her immediate reaction was one of relief, but as she went down the stairs to answer it, that was followed by an irresistible sense of apprehension. She couldn’t help it. Any thought of the coming trip to Italy sent shivers of trepidation down her spine, and she knew Julie would be ringing to confirm the arrangements.

  ‘Hello,’ she said, picking up the receiver, and she was relieved to find her voice didn’t sound as anxious as she felt. ‘Burnfoot, two, four, seven.’

  ‘Laura?’

  She almost put the phone straight down. That dark, disturbing voice was unmistakable, and a wave of indignation swept over her. How dared he ring her here? How dared he get in touch with her at all, after what he had done?

  ‘Come on, Laura, I know you’re there.’ There was just the faintest trace of impatience in his voice now. ‘At least, have the decency to speak to me.’

  ‘Me—have decency!’ Laura swallowed. ‘My God, I don’t know how you have the nerve!’

  ‘We all have nerves,’ Jake assured her tensely. ‘And you may be interested to know that mine aren’t exactly undisturbed at this moment.’

  ‘Good!’


  ‘This has been the longest month of my life.’

  ‘It serves you right.’

  ‘All right.’ His voice hardened, and Laura, attuned to every nuance of his tone, felt her own nerves tingle. ‘You’ve had your fun at my expense, but now I want you to be sensible.’

  ‘I am being sensible,’ she retorted, realising she must not allow him to get the upper hand. ‘I can’t imagine why you’re ringing me, Mr Lombardi. What’s the matter? Has Julie been giving you a hard time?’

  The word he used then was incomprehensible to her, but its meaning was not. Even in his own language, the ugliness of its intent was evident, and Laura wondered why she didn’t just put the phone down, and be done with it.

  ‘You have a foul mouth, do you know that?’ he grated, after a moment, and Laura gasped.

  ‘I do?’ she countered, indignantly. ‘After what you—–’

  ‘Did you understand what I said?’

  Laura hesitated. ‘N—o—–’

  ‘Well, I understand you, only too well,’ he told her harshly, ‘and, believe me, you could use a little instruction in the art of not saying the wrong thing!’

  ‘I don’t think it matters what I say to you, Mr Lombardi,’ Laura told him, albeit a little less forcefully, and he expelled his breath on a low groan.

  ‘Laura,’ he said, his use of her name sending a shuddering wave of heat to the surface of her skin. ‘Dio, Laura, have you no pity?’

  Laura could feel herself weakening. It wasn’t in her nature to hurt anyone, but she wouldn’t—she couldn’t—give in.

  ‘How—how is Julie?’ she asked, deliberately bringing her daughter’s name between them once again, and Jake sighed.

  ‘She was perfectly all right when I spoke to her yesterday evening,’ he replied at last, and Laura’s fingers tightened around the receiver she was holding.

  Closing her eyes against the images his words had evoked, she said tautly, ‘Was that before—or after—you went to bed?’ and waited, with a sense of dread, for his answer.

  ‘Before—in my case,’ declared Jake obliquely, and then, before she could ask him what he meant, he added, ‘I wouldn’t know about Julie. I’m in Rome, and she’s not.’

  ‘Rome?’ Laura quivered. ‘How—how long have you been in Rome?’

  Jake’s laugh was ironic. ‘Do you really want to know?’ He paused. ‘I thought you weren’t interested in what I was doing.’

  Laura caught her breath. ‘I’m not. That is—I was just being polite, that’s all—–’

  ‘I know what you were being, Laura, and it wasn’t polite. But we’ll let it go for now.’ Jake paused. ‘I assume you got my mother’s invitation.’

  ‘Yes.’ She could hardly deny it. ‘But, I don’t know—–’

  ‘Good.’ Jake broke into her attempt to question its validity. ‘My parents are looking forward to meeting you. And Lucia, of course.’

  ‘Lucia?’ Laura frowned.

  ‘My daughter. Lucia—Luci.’

  Laura tensed. ‘She’ll be there?’

  ‘Of course. She’s with me now, as it happens.’

  ‘In—Rome?’

  ‘In Rome,’ he agreed, and she guessed that was why Julie wasn’t with him. It put a whole new perspective on the situation.

  ‘So,’ she said tersely. ‘Was that the only reason you rang? To ensure that I had received your mother’s invitation?’

  ‘Hardly.’ Jake was evidently controlling his impatience with difficulty. ‘I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to explain the arrangements to you. I wanted to be sure there’d be no misunderstandings. Now—a car will pick you up at your cottage at six o’clock on Saturday morning, a week from tomorrow, and transport you to Newcastle airport—–’

  ‘That’s not necessary—–’

  ‘I think it is,’ said Jake inflexibly. He paused a moment, and then went on, ‘You will then board the shuttle to London, arriving at Heathrow at approximately ten minutes past eight.’

  ‘Ten-past eight!’ Laura was disconcerted. ‘That’s rather early, isn’t it?’

  ‘Unfortunately, the next flight from Newcastle is not until nearly half-past eleven,’ replied Jake evenly. ‘In those circumstances, we would not arrive at Castellombardi until dinnertime.’

  ‘I can get the train—–’

  Jake expelled his breath heavily. ‘No.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because that is not the way I want it to be,’ he retorted wearily. ‘Laura—cara—–’

  ‘Don’t call me cara!’

  ‘—just allow me to have my way, hmm?’

  Laura took a steadying breath. ‘And if I don’t, you’ll tell Julie what happened, right?’

  ‘Wrong.’ Jake sucked in his own breath, with the same intention. ‘Laura, please—can’t we suspend this animosity? For—for all our sakes? I want you to enjoy these few days in my home.’

  Laura closed her eyes against the disturbing appeal in his voice. Just for a moment, she allowed herself to imagine what it would be like if she were going to Castellombardi, to meet Jake’s parents, as his fiancée. If she, and not her daughter, were the reason for this trip. Oh, she would still have qualms, of course. What prospective bride hadn’t, when meeting her fiancé’s family for the first time? But it would have all been worth it, to know that Jake loved her…

  ‘Laura?’

  The frustration in Jake’s voice brought her out of her reverie, but a little of the warmth her thoughts had engendered lingered on in her tone. ‘All right,’ she said, unaware of how much softer her voice sounded. ‘Wh—what do I do when I get to London? What time is the flight to—to—–?’

  ‘Pisa,’ put in Jake swiftly, responding to her mood. ‘And it’s as soon as we can make it. We’ll be flying to my father’s—–’

  ‘We?’ Laura halted him there, the anxiety reappearing in her voice. ‘But—you’re already in Italy.’

  ‘I shall be flying back to London next Friday,’ Jake explained, with some resignation. ‘We—that is, you, Julie, and myself—will fly back together on Saturday morning.’

  ‘I see.’ Laura bit her lower lip.

  ‘Do you? Do you, honestly?’ Jake uttered a harsh sound. ‘You surely don’t object to my escorting you, do you?’

  Laura hesitated a moment, and then realising how futile it all was, she submitted. ‘I—suppose not,’ she murmured, and as she did so the doorbell rang.

  She guessed it was Mark, and, glancing at her watch, she discovered she had been on the phone for almost fifteen minutes. It must be costing Jake a small fortune, she thought worriedly, before the cynical realisation that he could afford it swept all other considerations aside.

  ‘I’ll have to go,’ she said now. ‘There’s someone at the door.’

  ‘Answer it. I can wait,’ declared Jake impatiently, but Laura knew Mark wouldn’t appreciate being kept waiting. Besides, it would mean having to tell him who it was—or lying.

  ‘I can’t,’ she said, as the bell pealed again. ‘It—it’s my date.’

  ‘Your what?’

  There was no mistaking Jake’s savagery now, and Laura had to wet her dry lips before saying, half defensively, ‘My date. I—I’m going out for dinner.’

  ‘With a man?’ Jake was grim. ‘You’re going out with a man?’

  ‘Yes.’ Laura found she was breathing much faster than she should. ‘So, you see—–’

  ‘Who is he?’

  ‘I—just a colleague.’

  ‘A colleague? You mean he’s a schoolteacher also?’

  ‘That’s right.’ The bell rang yet again, and, realising Mark had only to peer through the front windows to discover her hovering by the phone, she added, ‘I must go. Really—–’

  ‘Wait!’ Jake’s voice constricted. ‘Are you—sleeping with him?’

  ‘That’s none of your—–’

  ‘Tell me!’

  ‘No!’ Laura felt a choking sensation in her throat. ‘No, I’m not,’ she replied wretchedly, an
d, slamming down the receiver, she pressed both hands to her burning cheeks.

  CHAPTER TEN

  LAURA had read that the light in Tuscany was the secret of the region’s magic. In the early morning—or at dusk—painters and architects had marvelled at its clarity of illumination, and, even though it was late afternoon, she could see exactly what they meant.

  From the balcony of her room, she had an uninterrupted view of the valley and the surrounding hills, and the colours were quite fantastic. From the silvery radiance of the River Lupo that wound along the valley floor, to the rich dark forests of pine and cypress that coated the hills all around, she was entranced by their brilliance. In addition to which, the air was like wine—fresh, and clear, and redolent with the fragrance of the flowers that grew in such profusion in the gardens below.

  ‘Valle di Lupo.’

  Laura said the name softly to herself. It meant the Valley of the Wolf. She had looked it up in the library at school. She guessed there had once been plenty of wild animals, wolves included, sheltering in the shadowy depths of these forests. There was still a sense of primitive beauty about the place, of ancient civilisations worshipping ancient gods.

  And, for Laura, there was also a sense of stepping back in time. Everything was strange, and it was not unnatural that she should feel unsure of herself, but it was the sense of feeling young again that troubled her most. Of course, it shouldn’t be something she should object to, but she did. She was not supposed to be here to resurrect her own youth, but as Julie’s mother, meeting her daughter’s proposed in-laws for the first time.

  But, it hadn’t been like that, and it was all Jake’s fault. Or Giacomo’s—as his mother chose to call him. She should have known—and been warned—when Jake had met her in London. When he’d walked into the baggage collection area at Heathrow, and casually informed her that Julie was not with him, she should have refused to go any further.

  And she would have, she remembered, ruefully, if he had not gone on to explain that Julie had merely been delayed in California. Apparently, the screen test her daughter had been so excited about had materialised, and she had flown off to Los Angeles at a moment’s notice, leaving Jake to explain the situation to her mother. However, she hoped to join them on Sunday, so there was absolutely no reason why Laura should feel so apprehensive.