The Truth Behind his Touch. CATHY WILLIAMS
nothing like Alberto.’
‘I’m thrilled to hear that. So, enlighten me.’ He felt a twinge of intense curiosity about this man who had been so thoroughly demonised by his ex-wife.
‘Well.’ Caroline smiled slowly and Giancarlo was amazed at how that slow, reluctant, suspicious smile altered the contours of her face, turning her into someone strangely beautiful in a lush, ripe way that was even more erotic, given the innocence of everything else about her. It put all sorts of crazy thoughts in his head, although the thoughts lasted only an instant, disappearing fast under the mental discipline that was so much part and parcel of his personality.
‘He can be grumpy. He’s very grumpy now because he hates being told what he can and can’t eat and what time he has to go to bed. He hates me helping him physically, so he’s employed a local woman, a nurse from the hospital, to help him instead, and I’m constantly having to tell him that he’s got to be less bossy and critical of her.
‘He was very polite when I first arrived. I think he knew that he was doing my dad a favour, but he figured that he would only have to be on good behaviour for a few weeks. I don’t think he knew what to do with me, to start with. He’s not been used to company. He wasn’t comfortable making eye contact, but none of that lasted too long. We discovered that we shared so many interests—books, old movies, the garden. In fact, the garden has been invaluable now that Alberto is recovering. Every day we go down to the pond just beyond the walled rose-garden. We sit in the folly, read a bit, chat a bit. He likes me to read to him even though he’s forever telling me that I need to put more expression in my voice … I guess all that’s going to have to go …’
Giancarlo, who hadn’t thought of what he had left behind for a very long time, had a vivid memory of that pond and of the folly, a weird gazebo-style creation with a very comfortable bench inside where he likewise had enjoyed whiling away his time during the long summer months when he had been on holiday. He shook away the memory as if clearing cobwebs from a cupboard that hadn’t been opened for a long time.
‘What do you mean that you guess that’s all “going to have to go”?’
Caroline settled worried eyes on his face. For someone who was clearly so intelligent, she was surprised that he didn’t seem to follow her. Then she realised that she couldn’t very well explain without risking another attack on Alberto’s scruples.
‘Nothing,’ she mumbled when his questioning silence threatened to become too uncomfortable.
‘Tut tut. Are you going to get tongue-tied on me?’
The implication being that she talked far too much, Caroline concluded, hurt.
‘What do you mean? And don’t bother trying to be coy. It doesn’t suit you.’
Caroline didn’t think she could feel more loathing for another human being if she tried.
‘Well, if Alberto has run into financial difficulties, then he’s not going to be able to maintain the house, is he? I mean, it’s enormous. Right now, a lot of it isn’t used, but he would still have to sell it. And please don’t tell me that this is a ploy to try and get money out of you. It isn’t.’ She sighed in weary resignation. ‘I don’t know why I’m telling you that. You won’t believe me anyway.’ Suddenly, she was anxious to leave, to get back to the house on the lake, although she had no idea what she was going to do once she got there. Confront Alberto with his problems? Risk jeopardising his fragile health by piling more stress on his shoulders?
‘I’m not even sure your father knows the truth of the situation,’ she said miserably. ‘I’m certain he would have mentioned something to me.’
‘Why would he? You’ve been around for five seconds. I suggest the first person on his list of confidants would probably have been his accountant.’
‘Maybe he’s told Father Rafferty. I could go and see him at the church and find out if he knows about any of this. That would be the best thing, because Father Rafferty would be able to put everything into perspective. He’s very practical and upbeat.’
‘Father Rafferty …?’
‘Alberto attends mass at the local church every Sunday. Has done for a long time, I gather. He and Father Rafferty have become close friends. I think your father likes Father Rafferty’s Irish sense of humour—and the odd glass of whisky. I should go. All of this …’
‘Is probably very unsettling, and probably not what you contemplated when you first decided to come over to Italy.’
‘I don’t mind!’ Caroline was quick to reply. She bit back the temptation to tell him that someone had to be there for Alberto.
Giancarlo was realising that his original assumption, which had made perfect sense at the time, had been perhaps a little too hasty. The woman was either an excellent, Oscar-winning actress or else she had been telling the truth all along: her visit had not been instigated for financial purposes.
Now his brain was engaged on a different path; he sat back and looked at her as he stroked his chin thoughtfully with one long, brown finger.
‘I expect this nurse he’s hired is a private nurse?’
Caroline hadn’t given that a second’s thought, but now she blanched. How much would that be costing? And didn’t it prove that Alberto had no idea of the state of his finances? Why, if he did know, would he be spending money on hiring a private nurse who would be costing him an arm and a leg?
‘And naturally he must be paying you,’ Giancarlo continued remorselessly. ‘How much?’ He named a figure that was so ridiculously high that Caroline burst out laughing. She laughed until she felt tears come to her eyes. It was as though she had found a sudden outlet for her stressful, frantic thoughts and her body was reacting of its own volition, even though Giancarlo was now looking at her with the perplexed expression of someone dealing with a complete idiot.
‘Sorry.’ She hiccupped her way back to some level of seriousness, although she could still feel her mirth lurking close to the surface. ‘You’ve got to be kidding. Take that figure and maybe divide it by four.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. No one could survive on that.’
‘But I never came here for the money,’ Caroline explained patiently. ‘I came here to improve my Italian. Alberto was doing me a favour by taking me in. I don’t have to pay for food and I don’t pay rent. When I return to England, the fact that I will be able to communicate in another language will be a great help to me when it comes to getting a job. Why are you staring at me like that?’
‘So it doesn’t bother you that you wouldn’t be able to have much of a life given that you’re paid next to nothing?’ Cheap labour, Giancarlo thought. Now, why am I not surprised? A specialised nurse would hardly donate her services through the goodness of her heart, but a young, clearly inexperienced girl? Why not take advantage? Oh, the old man knew the state of his finances, all right, whatever she exclaimed to the contrary.
‘I don’t mind. I’ve never been fussed about money.’
‘Guess what?’ Giancarlo signalled to the waiter for the bill. When Caroline looked at her watch, it was to find that the time had galloped by. She hadn’t even been aware of it passing, even though, disliking him as she did, she should have been counting every agonising minute.
‘What?’
‘Consider your little mission a success. I think it’s time, after all, to return home …’
CHAPTER THREE
GIANCARLO’S last view of his father’s house, as he had twisted around in the back of the car, while in the front his mother had sat in stony silence without a backward glance, was of lush gardens and the vast stone edifice which comprised the back of the house. The front of the house sat grandly on the western shores of the lake, perfect positioning for a view of deep blue water, as still as a sheet of glass, that