TOGETHER THEY MADE their way through the connecting door into the hotel, and from there into the ballroom, where they were met by cheers.
Knowing what was expected of him, Damiano played his part to perfection, leading Sally onto the floor, then drawing her into his arms for a waltz. The music filled the air, seeming to flow through her, making her part of itself. She no longer had a will of her own. Life meant dancing through a distant universe with this mysterious man who smiled at her from behind his mask.
‘Why are you looking so tense and nervous?’ he murmured. ‘People will think I’m forcing you to marry me.’
‘You couldn’t do that, not in this day and age.’
‘But I have a reputation as a manipulating bully. You’ve accused me of it yourself.’
‘Manipulator yes, bully no. You’re far too clever for clumsy bullying.’
That made him laugh. She joined in, and everyone dancing near them nodded in satisfaction to see a couple so truly happy together.
He was a fine dancer, holding her firmly but gently, and she found herself moving with a skill that matched his. It was disappointing when courtesy demanded that they each attend to other people. In the arms of another partner she found herself thinking only of him, how strong and warm his body felt against hers.
After a while she saw Arlecchino bouncing across the floor to her.
‘Shall we dance?’ he asked, with an elaborate bow.
‘Do I dare dance with the devil?’ she teased.
‘Tonight I am merely your servant.’
‘I think I prefer a clown.’
His answer was an elaborate leap into the air, finishing with another bow. ‘Then a clown you shall have.’
Laughing, she let him lead her onto the floor.
Like his brother, Mario was a fine dancer, lithe and energetic, holding her close in the waltz.
‘I don’t think you should hold me so tight,’ she gasped after a while.
‘I’m merely showing my respects to my sister-in-law,’ he said theatrically. ‘Do you accuse me of impropriety?’
‘No, of course not.’ But as she spoke she saw something in his eyes that gave her pause. There was an intensity of admiration there that she hadn’t expected, and that was more than merely amusing.
‘I think you should let me go,’ she said.
‘Yes, perhaps you’re right,’ he said with a regretful sigh.
As he led her from the floor he said, ‘I’m sorry, Sally, I didn’t mean to—you know. It’s just that I think my brother’s the luckiest fellow on earth. I know I shouldn’t say that but—don’t be mad at me.’
‘I’m not,’ she said truthfully.
She was too unused to male admiration to be offended by it. And it passed across her mind that it was a look she never saw in Damiano’s eyes. Or expected to.
The evening was moving to its climax. Damiano signalled for silence and attention.
‘I thank you all for coming here tonight, to honour my bride,’ he said. ‘I am a lucky man, as you can see, and I thank her for being ready to put up with me.’
He raised his glass in salute to her, as did everyone else in the room. Then there was more dancing. Many of the guests were business acquaintances, anxious to display their respect for the bride of a powerful man.
‘How are you managing?’ Damiano asked her after a while.
‘Wonderfully. Everyone’s nice to me, but it’s a little hot in here. I need to go outside for a moment.’
Briefly she hoped that he would come with her, but someone called his name, so she headed for the garden alone.
She was vaguely aware of curious glances, some from people fascinated to know that this was Damiano’s bride, the woman with the magic to conquer Venice’s most stony-hearted man. The others came from the few folk who hadn’t recognised her, and wondered who the masked figure might be.
A good question, she thought. I’m beginning to wonder myself.
It was peaceful in the garden. Pleasant as it was to be the centre of attention, she knew it was based on an illusion. Now she knew a mysterious desire to be alone, free from the need to pretend.
She was about to return to the ballroom when she heard two voices a few feet away, speaking in English.
‘I must admit I’m a bit surprised to see Damiano taking a new wife at this precise moment,’ said a woman.
Sally tensed, unable to move as a man replied, ‘You mean at Carnival? But it’s all so cheerful. Surely that’s a good time to get married?’
‘Carnival has special memories for Damiano. That’s when he finally won Gina after he’d given up hope. I was there at the party when she walked in, and I saw his face when he realised she’d come back to him. At first he simply couldn’t believe he was seeing her, but as he walked across the floor to her his face lit up and his arms opened.’
‘Really? It’s not like Damiano to be demonstrative.’
‘True,’ the woman agreed. ‘You never saw a man so happy. She threw herself into his arms and the two of them fled. We didn’t see them again that night. Next thing we heard they were getting married.’
‘And then she died.’
‘Yes, their happiness was so short-lived. It makes you wonder how he’s feeling now. Can he bear to play the lover of another woman when he must be haunted by those memories tonight?’
‘Aren’t you being a bit sentimental?’ the man asked ironically.
‘Probably. I expect he’s madly in love with this new bride and has forgotten all about Gina.’
Sally hurried away. She didn’t want to be discovered now, while she was so shaken by what she had heard.
Madly in love with his new bride. Nothing could be further from the truth. If anything his marriage was another affirmation of his love for Gina. For the sake of their son he would do anything, even marry a woman he didn’t love.
How well he’d played his part, she thought, honouring her, showing her off with apparent pride, concealing his true feelings.
Whatever they were.
He was waiting for her at the entrance to the ballroom.
‘There you are. I was worried about you.’
‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have left you alone.’
He took her hand.
‘Perhaps it was all getting a little much for you,’ he said gently. ‘You look tired. Why don’t you slip quietly away and leave me to bid everyone farewell?’
He was right, she thought. She needed to be alone, to think about what she’d heard, and reinforce her defences. And somewhere in her heart she knew that he was glad to bring the evening to an end. He’d behaved perfectly, but now the strain was catching up with him. He needed to be away from the crowd congratulating him on his bride. And he needed to be away from the bride herself. That was the truth.
She said her goodbyes and departed. Once back in her room she stripped off the extravagant costume and mask, and regarded herself in the mirror.
‘The is me,’ she said. ‘The real me. The only me.’ But then she sighed, regarding her lean figure and blank face. ‘Oh, dear. Not very impressive.’
She thought of the evening behind her when she had been officially the star, while secretly knowing that she was playing second fiddle.
The stand-in, she thought with a sigh. The understudy, performing because the one he really wanted wasn’t available any more.
But then her sensible side reappeared and she sighed again; this time with exasperation with herself.
Oh, stop being difficult, Sally. You agreed to this as a deal, with something gained on both sides. He’s keeping his side so shut up and stop complaining.
From her window she saw the crowd stream away from the hotel and the lights go out.
At last she heard Damiano come upstairs and go to his room. She waited, tense and hopeful, and to her relief there was a knock on her door. She opened it to find him there, stripped of his dramatic costume, now in pyjamas and dressing gown. He was holding two glasses of wine, one of which he held out to her. She took it and ushered him in.
‘I’m sorry to have run away.’
‘It’s all right,’ he said, sitting on the bed. ‘You were marvellous. Everyone admired you.’
She didn’t believe it. He was being polite, saying the things a bridegroom was expected to say. But his eyes suddenly closed, like a man surrendering to forces too strong for him, and her heart was touched.
‘It’s a sad time for you, isn’t it?’ she asked gently.
He opened his eyes. ‘Why do you say that?’
‘I know you’re trying to look cheerful because of our wedding, for my sake. But it’s really a shame that all this is happening just now, during Carnival.’ She paused, unsure whether to pressure him further. But the need to know more about him was overwhelming.
‘I know that Carnival has a special meaning to you because of Gina,’ she said quietly.
‘How do you know that?’
‘I heard someone talking about her tonight, how she was away for a while. But she came back during one of the parties. You saw her across the room and she threw herself into your arms.’
He uttered a soft groan and dropped his head, as though the memory was unendurable. For a moment she nearly backed off, yet the hope of being in his confidence tempted her to urge him further.
‘You must have had a wonderful reunion,’ she ventured.
‘Yes, we did. I could hardly believe it then and I can still hardly believe it, even now—’ He stopped, suddenly self-conscious. ‘I’m sorry. What am I thinking of to be talking of her just before I marry you? Please forgive my appalling manners.’
‘There’s nothing to forgive,’ she insisted. ‘You’re talking because I’m encouraging you. Damiano, we’re not in love. We both understand that. We’re marrying because we each gain something we want, and we like each other enough to make it work. We can be good friends. Can you talk about her to anyone else?’
He shook his head.
‘Then talk to me. Let me be your best friend, the person you trust and confide in. It won’t be the same as you enjoyed with her, but it might just give you a kind of contentment.’
He regarded her as if wondering if he’d heard properly, and how he should understand what she was saying.
‘Do you really mean that?’ he asked at last.
‘Yes, I really mean it. And I always will.’
‘Thank you,’ he whispered. He took her hands between his and lowered his head to kiss them. ‘Thank you.’
She tightened her hands on his to cope with the tension surging through her.
‘Now we know we can talk freely,’ she said. ‘So tell me everything about how things happened between you and Gina. She was English, wasn’t she? How did you meet?’
‘Her brother had a shop on one of the islands. I went there one day and fell in love with her in the first moment. I wanted to marry her, but she had ambitions to be a model, and she went back to England fairly soon because she’d been offered an assignment.
‘She had a fairly good career, not as successful as she hoped, but good enough to keep her trying. If she had a few weeks off she’d come out here and we could be together, but it seemed a very one-sided relationship. I adored her and she knew it, but she kept a certain emotional distance. She was charming to me, but she didn’t return my passion and my embraces had to be restrained. When we met it was always because I’d gone to see her. She didn’t come to me. This went on for several years.’
‘Years?’
‘Yes. I often told myself that enough was enough, that I should break it off and return to having a life of my own, one that she didn’t dominate. But I could never kill the hope. She was worth waiting for, and I was sure that one day my love would come to mean so much to her that she would have to return it. But then she went away again, for much longer this time, and I thought I’d lost her for ever.
‘But on the night of the ball a miracle happened. I saw a lovely mask, and I knew at once that she was the person behind it. She hadn’t even told me she was coming, just appeared out of the blue, like a magical apparition.
‘That night she became mine. As we lay together I knew that dreams can come true. She gave herself to me with all the love in her nature.
‘After that we belonged to each other, heart and soul. I begged her to marry me and we set the wedding for the soonest possible date. The time that followed was the happiest I’d ever known. When we learned that she was pregnant I couldn’t believe that heaven could be so kind. The future seemed to stretch before us, an endless road full of infinite joy. And then—’
His voice choked off suddenly and his head drooped. Now she couldn’t see his face but she didn’t need to. She knew it was transformed with grief in a way she didn’t want to see. She’d spoken bravely about being his friend, defining their relationship in a way that they could both endure.
For the moment.
In time their closeness might develop another dimension, but just now she must live in hope.
Damiano raised his head again and she saw the glisten of tears on his face.
‘And then she died,’ he murmured. ‘And it was my fault.’
‘No, it wasn’t. Don’t say that.’
‘I gave her the child whose birth killed her. But for that she’d still be alive today. It haunts me and it always will. She opened her arms to me because she wanted the life I could give her, but I destroyed her.’
She struggled for words that might comfort him, but there were no words. Deep inside he carried a burden of guilt that, however unjustified, tormented him night and day. Her heart ached for his pain and her own helplessness.
‘Part of me died with her,’ he went on. ‘I would have died completely but for the child she left me. Pietro is her son and mine.’
‘Yes,’ she murmured. ‘In him you are united for ever with her. And while you have him you’ll never completely lose her.’
‘Thank you,’ he whispered. ‘Thank you, dear Sally.’ He laid his lips against her hand.
‘I’m here for you,’ she whispered. ‘And I always will be.’
‘Always,’ he echoed. ‘There was a time when that word tormented me, when I couldn’t believe that anything could be for always. But you give me faith again.’
She laid her lips gently against his. For a tense moment she waited for his response, wondering if he would take her in his arms and turn his affectionate words into actions. But he drew back.
‘Goodnight,’ he whispered. ‘Tomorrow we’ll—we’ll talk some more.’
He rose and went to the door.
‘Goodnight,’ he said again, and departed quickly.
She stayed motionless, trying to sort out her own thoughts and feelings. She had been briefly tempted to embrace him and take matters further, but every instinct told her this was not the time. Absorbed in his memories of Gina, the great love of his life, he was not ready to turn to her.
The time would come, she thought. And if she could be patient, it would be all the sweeter.
* * *
Now things moved fast. The date was set, the hotel’s wedding chapel was booked. Mario was to be the best man. Charlie would give her away.
Damiano introduced her to Luisa, whose job it was to organise everything. She was an elderly woman with a friendly air and a strong sense of humour. She and Sally took to each other at once.
‘Let me show you the chapel,’ she said. ‘It’s as fine as anything you’ll ever see.’
That was an understatement. Like the rest of the palazzo the chapel was several hundred years old, with a soaring roof, elaborate decorations and an air of luxury. Sally gazed up at the ceiling in wonder, trying to imagine herself against this glorious background. It was hard to believe, but so much was happening to her than she could ever have imagined.
‘They all want to be married here,’ Luisa told her. ‘You wouldn’t believe some of the famous people who’ve chosen this rather than anywhere else.’
She gave a brief list, enjoying Sally’s look of startled disbelief.
‘Him?’ Sally exclaimed at one of the more glamorous names. ‘Surely not. He’s a big film star.’
‘I’m not kidding you. Come and see the files.’
She took Sally through a door at the back of the chapel, and opened a large book full of wedding pictures. Sally browsed through them, noting the well-known names with interest and amusement.
But at the very end of the book she found something that made her grow still.
The picture showed a bride and groom standing close together, gazing into each other’s eyes, so absorbed in each other that the rest of the world might not have existed.
Gina and Damiano.
She could just recognise Gina. It was the difference in Damiano that took her breath away. This young man was gentle, vulnerable, open to the world. His adoration of his bride was written all over his face. As long as she was his he cared nothing who knew how he felt.
She thought of the man he had become now, hard-faced, emotionally armoured, sadly different from the eager boy so clearly shown in the picture.
‘Is anyone there?’
The sound of Damiano’s voice made her shut the book quickly and hide it away. He must not find her looking at the picture of him with the wife he’d loved as he would never love herself.
‘I’m here,’ she called, returning to the chapel. ‘Luisa has been showing me around. It’s a magnificent place. You don’t think perhaps it’s a little too magnificent for me? We could tie the knot somewhere else.’
Subtly she was giving him the chance to escape marrying here where Gina’s ghost lingered.
‘No, it must be here,’ he said. ‘If we didn’t use the hotel chapel eyebrows would be raised. Pietro would be worried in case our marriage wasn’t real.’
And Pietro was the reason it was all happening, she remembered. How foolish of her to have forgotten that.
Luisa bustled in again.
‘Let me show you your dressing room,’ she said. ‘It’s right next door and it’s where you’ll get ready on the day.’
There were two rooms where she would be attended by a maid and a make-up artist, both provided by the hotel. Then she would be ready to step onto the ‘stage’ playing an unfamiliar role, wearing a mask she didn’t completely understand.
Luisa took her to the hotel jeweller’s shop, where the assistant measured Sally’s finger, and handed over a ring. Then she produced another ring designed for a male hand. Luisa signed for both on Damiano’s behalf, and took possession of them.
It was like being part of a well-oiled machine, Sally thought, feeling slightly dizzy.
Luisa came with her into Damiano’s house.
‘Here’s the ring that you’ll give him,’ she said, pressing a small packet into her hand. ‘I wish you every happiness.’
She walked away to his office, to hand over the other ring, Sally guessed. She could faintly hear the sound of their voices, and hurried away to her room.
Studying the ring, she found it plain and gold. She wondered about the one Gina must have given him, and guessed he kept it hidden away somewhere like a sacred relic.
After half an hour he knocked on her door.
‘Did everything go well?’ he asked.
‘It all went as well as it possibly could.’
‘Splendid. Then let me show you the sleeping arrangements.’
He led her to his room, which she would soon share with him.
‘You can keep your present room as well,’ he told her. ‘It’ll be somewhere to retreat when you find me impossible to endure.’
‘Thank you,’ she said with a faint smile. ‘I dare say in time I’ll learn to put up with you, but let’s not rush it.’
‘Very wise.’
She got the message. Damiano’s room would be officially hers because that was what everyone would expect. The reality of their ‘marriage’ must remain private to themselves.
That might be hard, she thought, looking at the bed. It was wide, even for a double bed, but there was no barrier between the man and the woman who would share it. She wondered if this was where he’d slept with Gina.
I might need to slip away to my own room quite often, she mused. That’s probably what he’s hoping.
Downstairs they found Pietro waiting for them, looking worried.
‘Is something wrong?’ Sally asked.
‘It’s your honeymoon,’ he said. ‘You haven’t arranged it yet. Look, I’ve got lots of brochures about places for you to go.’
It was the one thing they hadn’t thought of. Now Damiano’s expression told her that for once he’d been caught off-guard. Inspiration came to her.
‘But we’re not going away at all,’ she said. ‘We wouldn’t enjoy it without you. And you can’t come with us because you’ve got to go to school. So we’re going to spend the honeymoon here, and in your spare time you can show me around Venice. I’m longing to see everything about this lovely place.’
Pietro gave a gasp of delight and looked eagerly at his father for confirmation. Damiano nodded at his son, then nodded again at Sally. There was no doubt that she’d done the right thing.
When Pietro had raced away to tell Toby the good news, she said, ‘I suppose I shouldn’t really have backed you into a corner without telling you first, but what else could I do?’
‘Nothing. You did well and I’m in complete agreement.’ He added wryly, ‘But the next time you accuse me of ordering people about like puppets I shall remind you of this.’
‘Yes, I suppose I did the same, but, after all, I’m learning from a master. And I dare say there are still plenty of tough tactics you can teach me.’
‘Do you know, I’m beginning to wonder if there’s anything I can teach you about conniving. But your idea is brilliant. I’m full of admiration. And that seems to be that. Everything is in place.’
‘Everything,’ she agreed, wondering what ‘everything’ really meant. ‘I must go now. I’ve got some emails to send.’
‘Me too. Goodbye until supper.’