WHEN THE DAY came she awoke to find Damiano standing at the window, lost in thought. After a moment he looked up at the sky.
‘How is the weather?’ she asked.
‘Better now, thank goodness. Spring is here.’
As they ate breakfast Nora came to announce that a man had come with a delivery of flowers. As Damiano was inspecting them his driver appeared to say that the motor boat was ready. Pietro headed for the door with Toby.
‘Toby’s allowed to come,’ Damiano explained. ‘As long as he’s kept on a lead and behaves himself.’
The cemetery was on the island of San Michele, out in the lagoon. Soon they were heading out across the water. At last the island came into view, and a few minutes later they drew up at the landing bay.
She thought San Michele was one of the most beautiful places she had ever seen. Pietro eagerly took her hand and led her down a path to where the headstones rose from the grass.
As she’d expected Gina’s grave was adorned with her photograph. It was almost life size, with a glowing smile for everyone who visited her.
She stood back to let Pietro approach his mother alone. He laid flowers on the ground and chatted to her eagerly, pointing at Sally in a way that made it clear he was introducing her.
‘He talks to her as though she was still alive,’ she murmured to Damiano as he came to stand beside her. ‘But I suppose in a way she is.’
‘Yes. I remember feeling that the first time I came here, with Pietro. She’d been dead only a few weeks, and I wanted to show her our baby so that we could enjoy him together. That sounds mad, doesn’t it? How could we enjoy anything together when she was dead?’
‘But she was still alive in your heart. If you felt that the two of you were together, then you were. And you still are.’
He turned her to face him, looking closely into her face. ‘How can you of all people say that?’
‘Because it’s true. You’re still a couple and Pietro knows it.’
‘But he’s got you now.’
‘Yes, but I’m not instead of Gina. I’m as well as Gina. All of us together are a family. You, me, Pietro—’ she gave a little laugh ‘—and Toby.’
Something in his expression told her that he was confused, searching for the right words. Before he could speak Pietro returned from the grave, looking happy.
‘She likes you,’ he said.
‘I like her. In fact I’ve brought her something.’
From her bag she took out the small posy that she’d bought the previous day, and went to lay it beside Pietro’s offering.
She had an impulse to speak to Gina, but before she could do so she heard a squeak of dismay behind her. Looking back, she saw that Toby had escaped and was running away with Pietro chasing after him. She joined in the chase, managing to head him off and seize him before he went too far.
‘Sorry,’ Pietro said, catching up. ‘He just wriggled free and dashed off.’
‘I’ll bet he’s good at seizing his chance,’ she said. ‘Come on, let’s go.’
They turned back in the direction of the grave, but as they neared it she drew a sharp breath. Damiano was there, kneeling before the headstone, his eyes fixed on Gina’s picture, and an expression that caused Sally a shaft of pain. He was not weeping, as Imelda had predicted, but there was despair and misery in his face.
She could see his lips moving, but not make out what he was saying. As she watched he lowered his head and reached out to touch the picture. When he lifted his head again he was still speaking, and she thought she could make out the words, ‘I’m sorry—I’m so sorry.’
She wanted to cry out. She’d deluded herself that Damiano was becoming hers, but now he was apologising to Gina for his marriage, which he clearly felt was a betrayal.
Pietro hadn’t noticed his father. His attention was taken by Toby, playing up again. By the time he’d got the dog under control Damiano was waiting for them, a fixed smile on his face.
‘Are we ready to go?’ he asked. ‘I’ve added the flowers. Sally, that was a charming posy you left her.’
He’d changed his mask very skilfully, she thought. The grieving husband had been set aside, replaced by a sensible man who knew the correct thing to say. Now she must don a similar mask.
‘It was an act of friendship,’ she said. ‘I know she’ll like that.’
‘I’m sure she will.’
They headed for the bay but when they were nearly there Sally came to a sudden decision.
‘Oh, goodness!’ she said, clutching her pocket. ‘I dropped something back there. I must go and fetch it.’
She ran away before they could reply. In fact she hadn’t dropped anything. The story was an excuse to return to Gina’s grave alone.
‘You knew I’d be back, didn’t you?’ she said as soon as she arrived. She moved close so that she could look directly into Gina’s eyes.
‘The little time you had must have been wonderful for you both. Then you lost each other, and you lost Pietro. But trust me. I love him and I’ll always be good to him. You must know Pietro is safe with me. And Damiano too. He’ll always come first. I’ll try to be everything he wants, and give him whatever he needs.
‘I saw him here with you a few minutes ago, and everything he feels was there in his face. He tried to hide it from me, but he couldn’t. I know he still loves you, and he always will. You must have been the best wife in the world to have made him so happy that he can never forget you. Perhaps one day he’ll come to love me a little, but I’ll never take your place.’
Overhead the trees rustled in the growing wind. She looked up at the branches swaying, almost as though something had agitated them. Glancing back at Gina, she had the strange feeling that all was not well with her.
‘It’s all right,’ she told her. ‘You’ll always come first with him. I have to accept that, but I can’t pretend it doesn’t hurt. And in time it will hurt more, unless—can that happen? Dare I hope for it?’
She backed away, still watching the beautiful, fascinating face, whose eyes seemed to follow her. She tried to understand that look, to read into it the bond of trust that she had tried to establish between them. But there was something else, something she didn’t understand, and which made her shiver.
‘What is it?’ she said urgently. ‘What are you trying to tell me? Because there’s something I don’t know, isn’t there?’
But the wind died and the branches overhead fell silent, leaving her in a bleak and empty desert.
Silence. Nothing.
She had a sudden, desperate need to get away from this place. She hurried back to the others.
‘All right?’ Damiano asked as she joined him. ‘Did you find what you’d lost?’
‘Oh, yes, I found it.’ She couldn’t help adding, ‘I found a great deal.’
He gave her a curious look but asked no questions, which was lucky. Even to herself she would have found it hard to describe the thoughts and sensations that possessed her.
A realisation was creeping up on her. Needing more time alone to brood on it, she went to bed early. Damiano pleaded work before he could retire, but he accompanied her to their room.
‘You were wonderful today,’ he said. ‘You did everything right, as you always do. I’m the luckiest man alive because I have you, and your kindness.’
He put his arms about her, drawing her close so that her head was against his shoulder.
‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘Thank you with all my heart.’
She wrapped her arms around his body, loving the feeling that he wanted to be close to her.
‘You don’t have to thank me,’ she said. ‘We made a deal and I’m keeping my side.’
‘You’re giving more than that, far more than we agreed, or I ever hoped for.’
Her heart missed a beat. Had he begun to suspect why she gave so much more than he expected? Could she take the chance?
‘Damiano—’
‘Come on, time for you to get some rest.’ He withdrew his arms, forcing her to do the same. He opened the bedroom door. ‘I’ll come in quietly later, not to awaken you.’
Then he was gone and she had the solitude she needed to consider the revelation that had taken hold of her today.
Seeing Damiano with Gina, his face devastated by grief for her, had been a turning point. It was as though a brilliant light had suddenly illuminated all that had happened since the day they had met. Now she could see and understand everything she had refused to face before.
I’m in love with him, she thought. I have been almost from the start.
The magic had always been there. Wary of love, she’d fought it, refusing to recognise how devastating was his effect on her. But with every touch, every smile, he had invaded her heart, refusing to be banished.
Why had she never faced the truth before? The physical excitement that no other man had been able to inspire in her had sprung to life at Damiano’s touch. She’d ignored it, fearful of being vulnerable, something she had always tried never to be. The way he kept his distance had maddened her more and more, until she had to face the fact that she wanted him in her bed, and that desire could be a signpost on the road to love.
Mysteriously Gina seemed to be with her again, invisible but powerful, throwing down a challenge. And Sally’s defiant spirit arose.
‘From now on everything is going to be different. He was yours once, but he’s mine now.’
She recalled a conversation she’d had with Charlie when, as so often before, he’d tried to wriggle out of blame for his own irresponsibility by despising her ease with facts and figures.
‘You haven’t got a heart,’ he’d accused. ‘You’re just calculating.’
‘If by calculating you mean I make sensible plans, then I plead guilty.’
And I’ve got a plan now, she thought. Oh, yes, I’ve got a plan and I’m going to make it work. And if that makes me calculating, then I’ll calculate, because so much is at stake. All the happiness I could ever know, now and for the rest of my life. That’s what I’m gambling for, and if the odds are high I’ll just have to gamble harder. And then harder. Until I win.
‘And I’m going to win.’
* * *
Pietro was eager to tell Sally that soon there would be another festival, the Feast of St Mark.
‘There’s a gondola race,’ he said. ‘And people hold dances in the evening. Papa always has one in the hotel, and there’s a lot of soppy stuff.’
‘What kind of soppy stuff?’ she asked.
‘It’s also known as La Festa del Boccolo,’ said Mario, who’d been listening with amusement. ‘Boccolo means rosebud. There’s a story about a man who fell in love with a noble woman hundreds of years ago. He was only a servant so he couldn’t hope to marry her in those days. He joined the army and was killed in action. Before he died he plucked a rosebud and sent it back to her. Supposedly it was stained with his blood, so they still use red ones today.’
‘What a sad story,’ she mused.
‘It’s soppy,’ said Pietro contemptuously. ‘Come on, Toby, let’s go and play.’
‘That’s not like him,’ Sally observed when the boy and his dog had gone.
‘Children sometimes give rosebuds to their mothers,’ Mario said. ‘He did it once, with Imelda. She seemed to receive it more or less well, but then she threw it away. He found it a couple of days later.’
‘I’d like to slap her,’ Sally said crossly.
‘I think Pietro might give you a rosebud this time. He’s closer to you than he ever was to Imelda. Damiano’s over the moon about what a great mother you are.’
‘It’s nice to know that he approves of me,’ Sally said in a voice that gave nothing away.
She promised herself that when she was finished he would do more than approve of her for being a good mother to his son. He would desire her as passionately as she desired him. If she wasn’t there he would be desolate. His heart would beat for her and her alone, not only with desire, but with love.
This was her plan. The time was coming when she would don a new mask, but there were things still to be decided.
She slipped away to the shop where Mario had taken her to buy what she needed for Carnival. After inspecting everything closely she found exactly what she wanted: a glamorous costume and an intriguing mask.
She managed to carry everything home without being discovered, and hurried upstairs, hiding her purchases away in her old room until the moment she would need them.
That came with the Festival of St Mark. The day started well, with Damiano presenting her with a small bouquet of red rosebuds over breakfast. Pietro gave her a rosebud of his own, then exchanged a smile and a nod with his father. Charlie and Mario applauded.
‘Come on,’ Pietro said excitedly when breakfast was over. ‘Time for the gondola race.’
They secured places in a building overlooking the canal and cheered as a gondolier attached to the hotel won the race by a length. Then everyone streamed back for the celebrations, and to prepare for the masked ball in the evening.
‘Fine, I’ll wear what I wore before,’ Sally declared. ‘What about you?’
‘The same.’
They dressed together. She put on the gold satin garment she’d bought for last time and he helped her with the buttons. Her heart was beating as the moment drew near when she must put her plan into action. Suddenly she closed her eyes and clutched her head.
‘What is it?’ he asked anxiously.
‘Just a headache. I thought it would have gone by now, but it’s getting worse.’
‘Are you sure you’re well enough for tonight?’
‘Not really. Would you mind if I didn’t go?’
‘If you’re not well I’d rather you stayed here.’
‘Then I will.’
With his help she stripped off the dress and lay down. He kissed her cheek and departed.
The plan had begun.
She lay still to give him time to leave. When she was sure he was gone she slipped out and down the corridor to her own room. There she hurriedly dressed in an elegant red and blue gown she’d bought for tonight. The mask was glamorous, glittering about the eyes and covering most of her face with just a small gap for her mouth. A man looking down at her would just be able to see her smile, but no more.
She removed her wedding ring and put it away. Nobody must see it tonight. Until now the ring had been almost meaningless but that was going to change.
As she slipped out into the corridor the house was silent. Charlie and Mario were out having fun. Pietro was already asleep. The housekeeper remained at home for his sake but she was out of sight in the kitchen as Sally hurried down the stairs and slipped through the connecting door to the hotel.
At once she was in a crowd of revellers and was able to make her way to the ballroom without attracting notice.
As soon as she entered she looked for Damiano. It was hard because the ballroom lights were kept low, increasing the dramatic atmosphere. She had to search before she found him. His back was to her, but he wore the black velvet suit. She edged towards him, then halted with shock.
He was holding a woman close to him, his right hand stroking her neck, then drifting down to caress her breasts, his fingers easing their way into the material.
So that was it! That was what his restraint amounted to. He didn’t need to sleep with her because he was fooling around with other women. She wanted to scream, run away, fly at him, tear off his mask and slap his face.
If only she could decide which.
But while she was still struggling with temptation, the man moved so that his left hand came into view, and suddenly all questions were answered.
Damiano had a scar on the back of his left hand, and she was just close enough to see that this man had no such scar. This wasn’t him, but a man wearing a very similar costume.
For a moment she was dizzy with relief as the nightmares that had danced before her faded. But where was he? She must identify him quickly without further mistakes. She glided through the crowd, frantically searching.
She saw him at last. The mask covered most of his face but he was holding up a glass of wine high enough for her to just make out the scar.
Now things were working out well. For her plan to succeed they must each recognise the other, but pretend otherwise, at least at the start.
Time for action.
He glanced in her direction and she seized a glass from a passing waiter, holding it up, approaching him to clink glasses, then turning away again.
‘Wait!’ He detained her with a hand on her arm. ‘You’re surely not going to leave me just like that.’
‘Aren’t I?’ she said in a teasing voice. ‘I just came to say hello.’
‘Hello. Not goodbye.’
‘Perhaps. Perhaps not. I have other hellos to say.’ She indicated a group of men nearby.
He moved closer. ‘Let me see if I can change your mind about that.’
Taking her glass, he set it aside with his own, and slid a hand around her waist.
‘Hello,’ he said.
She smiled. ‘Hello.’
As they glided around the floor he held her too close for propriety. Looking up, she found his mouth close to hers, the lips touched with a faint smile that might have been designed to tempt her.
Had he recognised her? Did he think he was dancing with a stranger? Or did he suspect the truth and was trying to decide? Of the three she decided the third would be the most intriguing.
‘Who are you?’ he murmured.
She made her laugh as teasing as possible.
‘Come, come, you’re a Venetian. You know that I’m everybody and nobody. And does it really matter which?’
‘It does to me.’
She laughed again. ‘If you don’t know who I really am, it’s because you’re afraid to know.’
She said the last words with great significance, and felt his clasp tighten.
‘Why should I be afraid?’ he asked.
‘Only you can answer that. Some things we don’t know because we don’t want to know them.’
‘You make me sound like a coward.’
‘Not a coward, just a man like every other man on earth.’
‘So you despise us all?’
‘No, but I watch you with caution.’
He was silent for a moment. Then suddenly he said, ‘I know another woman who does that. She too has things she doesn’t want to know.’
‘About herself, or about you?’
‘Both, I suspect. And I can’t decide whether to tell her.’
‘But do you know her secrets?’
‘I know secrets she doesn’t suspect.’
‘Perhaps it’s the same with her.’
‘I often think it is,’ he said in a low voice.
The waltz came to an end, and she drew away from him. She needed time to think. Damiano’s words sounded as though he saw past her mask to the woman within. Deep inside some instinct told her that they were talking a secret language known only to the two of them.
‘Dance with me again,’ he said. ‘Dance with me now.’
‘Not now. Later, when I’m ready.’
She turned and departed before he could become more demanding. Other admirers clamoured for her attention and she went through them one by one, conscious of Damiano keeping her under permanent observation, until at last he stepped in and reclaimed her.
‘My turn,’ he said, taking firm hold and guiding her onto the dance floor. After a few turns he said, ‘You haven’t told me your name.’
But he had recognised her. She was confident of that now. A strange and exciting chance had opened before her. They could talk openly, yet behind the protection of their masks. It sounded impossible, but in the magical air of Venice nothing was really impossible.
‘Your name,’ he repeated.
‘I have several names. Tonight I am Mysteria, the woman of many masks. Haven’t you sensed that already?’
‘Perhaps. Maybe I don’t know whether to believe it. It’s so confusing.’
She gave a soft laugh, calculated to entice him.
‘If it’s confusing, that’s a reason to believe it.’
‘Now you’re trying to confuse me even more.’
‘Why would I want to do that?’
He had danced her into a corner, turning her so that she was shielded from everyone.
‘Kiss me,’ he commanded.
‘In these masks? Impossible.’
He tightened his grip but it was, as she said, impossible to get close enough.
‘Do I know you?’ he breathed. ‘Are you—could you be—?’
‘I could be anyone you want me to be. But who do you want?’
‘I want—I want—you!’
‘But I am nobody. I don’t exist.’
‘Don’t say that.’
‘After tonight we will never meet again. I will vanish into thin air. That other woman will still be there, and you’ll have to decide if we’re the same person. And you will wonder if we ever met.’ She gave a slight chuckle. ‘You’ll probably feel that it’s best if we didn’t.’
‘Why do you laugh at me? Does it amuse you to confuse me?’
‘Yes,’ she admitted. ‘A man is always amusing when he’s at a disadvantage.’
‘Damn you!’ he whispered.
Before he could say or do more someone called his name. Furiously he turned to them, forcing himself to engage in polite conversation. When he turned back she had gone.
Watching him from the doorway, Sally could see his air of desperation as he looked this way and that. At last he grew close enough to see her, and came to a sudden sharp halt.
Sally raised her hand and beckoned to him, retreating through the open doorway. He followed fast, catching up, gazing down at her, breathing heavily.
‘Where are you going?’ he demanded.
‘Wherever you want to take me. I wonder where that could be.’
‘You know where it is. I’m taking you where you belong, to my room, to my bed. Unless—’ His confidence seemed to weaken. ‘Unless you do not wish to go there with me.’
She smiled. ‘Do you think that is my wish?’
‘I don’t know what I think. I don’t know anything about anything any more.’
‘Then why don’t we find out?’ She indicated the way ahead. ‘Go on, lead me. After all, you’re in command. You lead, I follow.’
What little she could see of his mouth twisted wryly. ‘We both know that’s not true.’
‘Who could possibly dictate to you?’
‘There is one woman who could.’
‘Lead on.’
She held out her hand. He took it and led the way through the hotel until they reached the connecting door. In a moment they were through and on their way up to the bedroom.
Sally had a blissful sensation that fate had blessed her plans. Everything was going well. She had no doubt that Damiano had recognised her.
He knew this was Sally, but which Sally? How many might there be? Her disguise had freed them both from the prison of their usual selves. Now they could each make love to a ‘stranger’ without being faithless to each other.
As they entered their bedroom he reached out to the wall switch, but she restrained him.
‘No,’ she murmured. ‘We don’t need light.’
After a moment he nodded. ‘I don’t need to see you,’ he agreed.
‘And why should you want to? You already know the things that matter about me.’ She moved closer so that he could feel her breath against his mouth. ‘Otherwise you wouldn’t be here.’
‘And you?’ he asked. ‘Don’t you want to know who I am?’
‘But I do know who you are. You’re the man who came when I beckoned.’
‘Does every man come at your command?’
For answer she gave a soft chuckle. ‘What do you think?’
‘I think every man follows you because he can’t help himself.’
‘What do the others matter? What does anything matter except that we are here, now, together?’
She stripped off her own mask, then reached up to his and slowly pulled it away. In the semi darkness she could just see his face enough to be sure it was Damiano, and knew he could see hers. But for the moment they should keep silent about their mutual recognition and enjoy the advantages of strangers.
She touched his mouth lightly with her fingertips, and would have drawn them away but he seized her hand, pressing it against his lips, kissing it again and again. Her response was a soft chuckle.
‘Why are you laughing?’ he demanded. ‘Was that what you meant me to do? Am I dancing to your tune?’
‘Do you think you are?’
‘I don’t know,’ he said hoarsely.
‘Would you mind?’
After a long moment he whispered, ‘No.’
‘I think you would. No man likes a woman to have too much power.’
‘That depends how she uses her power.’
She gave a soft laugh. ‘No, it doesn’t. No woman can be trusted. Never forget that.’
‘Do you say that I shouldn’t trust you?’
‘That’s your decision. If you take the risk of trusting me—I can do as I like.’
‘Stop it,’ he said hoarsely. ‘Stop trying to turn me against you.’
‘But you can always send me away. You’re the one in control now. Aren’t you?’
‘Yes,’ he said, but his voice shook.
‘Just throw me out, say you never want to see me again, and I’ll—’
The last words were silenced by his mouth on hers. It was what she’d wanted but she was still taken by surprise. The force and urgency of his kiss told of a man driven to the edge of control, ready to step into uncharted waters.
Excitement rose in her. She too was venturing into uncharted waters and this was a journey they would take together.
As he kissed her his hands began to move over her body, pulling at the laces that fixed her dress, pushing it from her shoulders until at last it fell to the floor. She responded by working on his coat, helping him wrench it off. As if given a signal he seized her up in his arms and strode to the bed.
‘Is this our fate?’ she whispered. ‘Are you set on imposing your will on me?’
‘I impose nothing.’ There was a tinge of anger in his voice. ‘I’m doing what you always meant me to do, and we both know it.’
‘I’m not sure that I do know it. You might have to persuade me.’
‘Right.’ His mouth was on hers again, forceful but caressing at the same time, sending excitement pulsing through her so strongly that she could barely stand. She moved her own lips against him, seeking to inspire him with thrills as great as her own, sensing his reaction in the trembling of his body.
She had longed for this, dreamed of it. Now she seemed possessed by something beyond herself. Victory was in her grasp and she must seize it before the chance slipped away. She wasn’t sure who it was who ripped open his shirt buttons. It might have been herself, but the action held more of the other self who had taken her over.
That other Sally ran her hands over his bare chest, relishing the feel of his muscles, his smooth skin, the tension of desire that throbbed through him.
Now she was naked, and so was he. It was too dark to see but she could feel the length of his body against her, feel the caresses that seemed to invade her everywhere, until at last he took possession of her completely, and the whole world changed.
A long gasp broke from her as she sensed first the power of his desire, then her own uncontrollable response. For a few moments madness consumed them both, and they clung to each other, seeking pleasure and comfort in the same moments.
For Sally it was as though everything had been drained from her. She was no longer herself but a new woman, open to the world, to this man, to a wealth of new experiences and joys waiting to be discovered. And it was the same with him. Every instinct told her that as she held him close to her, refusing to release him, now or ever.
She had claimed him. And now he was hers.