They handed over their horses to Luigi, and made their way back into the villa.
“How do you feel now after that exhilarating ride?” Anna asked.
“I feel fine, thank you, although my thigh muscles and legs are stiff. But that’s because I haven’t ridden for such a long time.”
“I expect so,” Anna agreed. “Don’t forget to keep taking those tablets. And work in that cream on your sunburn that I've left with the maid. Oh yes – and stay out of the direct sunlight. You can swim as much as you like, but don’t drink much.”
Vicky puzzled, head to one side, looked questioningly at her.
“Aren’t you going to be around?” she asked.
“Not for the remainder of the morning, at any rate. I have a lot of correspondence to attend to. We have heard this morning that the Contessa and Mr McKinley will be returning to the villa the day after tomorrow.”
“Oh?” Vicky’s eyes widen.
“As you can imagine there are lots of things that need sorting out. Mc McKinley has sent me a taped message instructing me of urgent business that needs immediate attention.”
Her heart raced. At long last she would be meeting the man who had been the young officer in her aunt’s life all those years ago. It also meant that her time here was nearing its end.
From being in a hurry to leave, she was now disconcerted that her time was running out and that if she was to ever know Carl better, know what he was capable of – and to understand herself in a way she never had before - -
Her heart thumped in her chest so much she was frightened for her health - and her sanity.
Inside the villa, Anna turned to her, and smiled.
“See you at lunch. Ciao.”
“Ciao.”
Slim, poised and self-assured, Anna walked away in the direction of the study, her silk blouse, tailored riding breeches and highly polished calf-length boots, exuding style and her sexuality.
Dejected, Vicky, once back in the privacy of her bedroom, took off her scruffy jeans and top. Peeling them off still hurt, but after a soothing shower, she felt better.
Choosing the briefest of her bikinis, she went back downstairs. Out on the terrace she found a lounger in a shaded but bright area of the swimming pool.
She applied more ointment, working it well into the more tender stretches of her body, and then settled back to idly turn the pages of a glossy magazine. It was all in Italian, but she enjoyed the pictures anyway.
After about an hour, she got up and dived into the pool. Whilst she dried, gently dabbing at herself with the towel, she rang the bell on the table. Almost immediately a maid appeared.
She ordered fresh orange, mindful of Anna’s advice not to drink alcohol too much. When the orange arrived she took another two tablets, applied more of the special cream, and lay on her tummy by the side of the pool.
At least she would have a golden tan all over when she saw Clive again. Perhaps that would precipitate something in him. She thought again about the conversation she had had that morning with Anna, and what she had said about the nature of relationships between men and women in this part of the world.
Could it be true?
And Carl McKinley’s warning to her – it was so - unbelievable, so humiliating, the idea of him forcibly chastising her - - -
For a moment she struggled to breath.
As the morning progressed she could not stop thinking about it; and began to feel almost unwell. It was only around lunchtime that she realized it just wasn’t mental anguish, but that she really was beginning to feel off colour.
It was around lunchtime that she began to feel really off-colour. At first it was nothing more than the suggestion of an impending headache, and the feeling of being shivery. Luncheon had been served and she was sitting at the table when a smiling Anna came down the stairs and out onto the terrace.
Vicky was picking at a salad.
Anna asked, “Had a good morning?”
“Yes, fine.”
Anna looked directly at her, with some concern.
“Are you all right?”
“I feel a bit queasy – as though I have a cold coming on.”
Anna placed the back of her hand on Vicky’s forehead.
“Yes, you are still slightly feverish. Let me get you a couple of aspirins.”
Troubled, she questioned, “Will it be in order to take them, along with the other tablets?”
“Oh, yes,” Anna was dismissive. “I take them together when necessary.”
In the middle of the afternoon, her symptoms worsened. By four o’clock she felt not only giddy and sick, but had the added discomfort of soreness from the inner part of her legs, as a result of her morning’s ride along the beach.
She was barely able to drag herself up to her bedroom, step out of her clothes and find a clean nightdress. Lying down on the bed, she drew a single sheet over her and with teeth chattering, fever burning her up, all she wanted to do was sleep.
A couple of hours later, in response to a gentle tap on the bedroom door, Vicky managed to call out feebly.
“Come in.”
Anna popped her head round the doorway.
“How are you feeling?” she enquired.
Groaning, Vicky pushed herself up into a sitting position onto her elbows.
“I feel awful.”
Anna came over to her bedside.
“I thought there must be something wrong, when you didn’t appear at dinner. What’s the trouble?”
Vicky tried to pull herself up even higher on the bed, but failed miserably. With a groan, she slumped back onto the pillow.
“I just feel...” She waved a hand about in the air “...sick – generally.”
“If I could only get some sleep I’m sure I’d feel better by the morning. I don’t know what it is, really. I must have caught a chill. Or eaten something that has disagreed with me.”
Anna frowned, and felt her wrist.
“Your pulse seems normal enough,” she said. “It’s not racing. You’ve probably got the local ‘tum’. I’ll get you a couple more sleeping tablets. That should do the trick – it will help you get through the night.”
Vicky winced.
“Not more.”
“Positively the last today,” Anna assured her, with a smile. “I’ll be back in a moment.”
But as she hurried off down the corridor there was a triumphant gleam in her eyes. Vicky Norwood would more than likely be unwell for days. Sunburn, as she knew, was a very debilitating and painful condition, and the overuse of the drugs she had been giving her would make her feel sick as well.
* * *
Vicky finally returned to a half world of dream and reality as her mind reluctantly surfaced from the violent restlessness of her drug-induced sleep.
The room was dark, but shapes seemed to be moving about all around her. She heard the clink of a cup and a saucer, and her befuddled brain momentarily cleared as she saw that someone – a maid, perhaps – was setting down a tray on the bedside table.
Disembodied, Anna’s voice came from somewhere.
“There was no way she would be told, Carl. You know how silly young girls can be.”
Something stirred in her at the mention of Carl’s name. Panic overtook her. He mustn’t see her like this.
She tried to move, and groaned from the effort. Strong hands held her shoulders, as she sagged backwards, exhausted, eyelids heavy.
Carl’s voice, deep and sonorous, came from directly above her. She heard a box of pills being shaken.
“That’s odd,” Carl said, “but these tablets are yours Anna, are they not? Those extra strong painkillers you take for your back trouble.”
Anna sounded flustered – so unlike her calm and controlled self.
“Really? I’d no idea...”
“And this cream.” His voice hardened. “I recognise it as that sample you abandoned last year after it brought you out in blisters. How could she have got hold of it?”
“I’m at a loss to know, Carl,” came the lame reply. “Probably one of the maids...”
Another woman’s voice intercepted their dialogue, oddly enough speaking in English.
“No, Signorina, Theresa had her day off yesterday. And I certainly didn’t give it to the young lady. I was of the opinion that it had been thrown away after the trouble you experienced with it last year.”
There was a silence, so deep and ominous, that she assumed the dream she was having had come to an end. Then a door closed, and Carl’s voice, hard and angry as she had ever heard, snapped out his displeasure.
“It’s obvious that she’d been allowed to have too much sun. She should have been warned – not encouraged. And the use of that cream, Anna, was nothing short of criminal.”
The last word was delivered like a whiplash.
Anna’s answer sounded meek and contrite.
“I did warn her, Carl, but I couldn’t keep my eyes on her all day long. I do have other work to attend to, as you very well know. What with your father and the Contessa due to return.”
“Yes, yes,” Carl added impatiently, “but in your place I certainly would have paid more attention to her, if I’d known she was feeling ill.”
Vicky, as she lay still and listened, knew that something was wrong, and then in a blinding flash she realized why Anna had administered the tablets and cream.
It was clear beyond any shadow of doubt that the woman had done it because she seriously thought of her as a rival, and wanted to keep her out of the way, confined to her room until the time came for her to return to England.
It was unbelievable. But true. Carl’s harsh-sounding voice came again.
“I’m surprised at you, Anna, really surprised. I can hardly believe that you would be so cruel and thoughtless. And, I’m at a complete loss as to why you did it.”
Vicky knew why but Anna could hardly say it. Instead, she mumbled something so indistinct that Vicky was unable to catch what it was.
But Carl remained dissatisfied.
“She must get more rest. Meanwhile, I’ll arrange for Doctor Pietro to call. You, Anna will go to your room and wait for me.”
There was no audible response from Anna. All that she heard was the door closing quietly behind them.
But even through her suffering Vicky felt something tighten in her stomach.
What was he going to do to her?
She woke again when Doctor Pietro attended her later in the evening. He was a kindly man, sporting a small goatee beard and half-moon glasses. He fussed over her, tut-tutting as he continued to examine the red, indurated tissue.
“From what I’ve heard, young lady,” he said, “you’ve had more than your share of creams. For all that, you still need something to soothe away the pain.”
He searched through his black bag, and finally produced a flat-shaped jar of ointment.
“This should do the trick. I’ll leave instructions for it to be kept in the refrigerator.”
He examined her swollen feet.
“You young people from cold, northern countries, ought to have more warning about the harmful rays from the sun before you come here.
But she wasn’t listening.
It was hard to believe what she had come to believe in her half-conscious state that morning. She was still unsure whether it was a bad dream after all.
Why had Anna reacted so violently towards her? Surely she had shown no obvious sign of the thoughts she had entertained about Carl? And had she really heard him order Anna to ‘Go to your room and wait for me’? Even through her misery Vicky felt a weird sense of excitement.
Was it possible that such a poised, sophisticated and self-assured woman would accept orders like that? And what was he going to do to her?
Doctor Pietro prattled on regardless of a reply.
“No more pills and a good night’s rest,” he was saying, “and you’ll be much better by the morning. Then I suppose you’ll go straight out again into the sunlight. Young people these days... Well, you mustn’t – understand?
Shaking his head, the doctor put his stethoscope back into his bag, and fiddled about until he found what he was looking for.
Vicky murmured something – she was so exhausted she was unsure quite what – and then felt coldness on her inner arm as the doctor wiped something on her skin.
There was the tiniest of pricking sensations.
“That will ensure you get a good night’s sleep,” he pronounced. “Get you over the worst of it.”
“Thank you,” she said in a barely audible whisper.
The doctor continued, “It’s a pity that you will have to miss the celebrations tonight, to welcome back the Contessa and Signor McKinley, but there you are. That’s what becomes of being...” He shrugged his shoulders. “...young and foolish.”
Once again, as blackness closed in around her, she felt utterly miserable. She was so senseless. So naïve. What should have been the crowning moment of her visit, meeting John McKinley, was, for the time being, lost to her. What would her Aunt have thought?
Anna had made mincemeat out of her. Had had her completely at her mercy.
And Carl would certainly not find her so attractive now.
As she sank into a restful sleep, she knew in her heart of hearts just how dreadful she must look at that moment. It was utterly humiliating.
But her very last fleeting emotion was one of hate.
She would get even with Anna Mioretti if it was the last thing she did, and for what she had done she hoped Carl had really punished the woman – given her a good hiding.
The thought made her feel strangely excited before blackness closed over her.