Roman Summer (6 page)

‘S
he wanted me to, it was written all over her. What was unfair about my doing it?’

‘Because you must know how vulnerable she is to you.’

‘No more than to as many other males as want to kiss her for her pleasure and theirs. As the Latin
grammars
have it, she is “meet to be kissed”
and who am I to slap her ego in the face by turning her down?’

Angry now, Ruth retorted, ‘Who are you? I’ll tell you. You’re a man who’s twice her age and should know better than to encourage
her. She’s at the stage where sh
e wants to be kissed seriously, or not at all.’

‘Phooey. She wants to be kissed, full stop.’

‘I don’t agree. Nowadays they grow up sooner than we—we did, and at seventeen, which Cicely nearly is, they can be jealous and hurt, and they long to know a man is serious—you, for instance, when on your own showing you’r
e
just having fun.’

‘Not just having fun. Saving her face as well.’

‘At the price of a lot of pain for her when she realises you aren’t serious and never were.’

Erle
’s eyebrow lifted. ‘I declare you can make a mere kiss for a schoolgirl with a teenage crush sound like a plighted troth
!’
he taunted.

‘At Cicely’s age she could delude herself it
was
a plighted troth.’

‘For heaven’s sake
!
How many engagements is she prepared to take on at one time? The Sforza boy kissed her the other night, didn’t he?’

‘You can’t know that he did.’

‘She told me so. So you see—as many kisses as she can collect, so many scalps for her belt, that’s all. She’s open to all the homage she can get, and no obligations
on either side.
’

Ruth said tartly, ‘I’d like to believe that. But you haven’t seen her jealousy over your other—commitments.’

‘My other commitments?’ His eyes narrowed into a hard stare. ‘For that sweeping statement you should be made to name six
!
’

She shrugged. ‘I’m only quoting your own words— that you enjoyed plenty of jam.’

He made a gesture of mock despair. ‘And to think I meant my little story to show that it’s possible to have a surfeit of jam!’

‘But you’re still willing to use it for your own ends.’ With an indiscretion quite foreign to her, Ruth added, ‘I
think
Signore Fonte is right about you—all your relationships have to add something to your image.’

‘In—deed?’ He drawled out the word. ‘One short afternoon in each other’s company and you get intimate enough to go into a huddle over your friends’ shortcomings. Quick work, I must say
!’

‘It wasn’t a short afternoon. You and Cicely were
away over two hours. And Signore Fonte
—
’

‘Oh, come! You must have got around to first names, surely?’

She ignored that.
‘
—wasn’t critical of you. In fact he admires you for an ability to forward your career that he claims he hasn’t got himself.’ She broke off. ‘But this is a fruitless argument—we’re completely at odds, and all I ask is that you don’t hurt Cicely any more than you need.’

He straightened in his seat, touched an imaginary forelock. ‘Yes, ma’am. Noted, ma’am. But if you think
I’m going to go all avuncular, with a long white
beard
—
’ He stopped at sight of the other two, before
they came into earshot.
Cicely
got into the back seat. ‘All shipshape and Bristol-fashion?’ he asked her.

‘Yes. Lovely. We’ll do it again, won’t we,
Erle
?’

‘Madam has only to command
—
’ He sketched a
salute to Cesare and drove away.

At the gate to the road he gave way to allow another car to turn in. It stopped as it drew level. Stella Parioli, in an open-necked shirt and with a silk bandeau round her hair, was driving. She reached across to offer him a hand
.
‘Leaving,
Erle
—just as I’m arriving? Can’t you turn round and ride with me?’

He shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, no. I’m playing chauffeur today, as you see.’

She thrust forward her lips in a little pout. ‘Too bad. Then tomorrow perhaps? I am free.’

‘Tomorrow—perhaps. I’ll have to ring you,’ he promised.

‘When? I’m dining out tonight.’

‘So am I. With
Signora
Gancia.’

‘With
C
l
ara Gancia? I didn’t know she was in Rome.’

‘I’m hoping to put her under contract for the winter opera season.’

‘
Cl
ara
Gancia
? Oh well
—
’ Stella Parioli tossed
her head, ‘I suppose you know your own business
best
—
’

Cl
early supposing nothing of the sort, she
accelerated and drove away.

To no one in particular, as he set his own car in motion, Erl
e
murmured, ‘Believe me, I do.’

CHAPTER THREE

Of a
ll times of the day Ruth thought she loved Roman summer mornings best. Noons were fierce, afternoons frenzied and noisy and the lovely evenings had to compete with the glare of neons. But in the very early mor
ning
the city had an air of being clean-washed, the streets were empty and quiet as they never were later, and it was possible to hear every ‘plash plash’ of the three fountains which gave the Via Tre Fontane its name.

Cicely
was no early riser and didn’t want to join Ruth when she walked in the Borghese Gardens before breakfast. So Ruth went alone, usually striking across the park to the wilder parts where it was possible to believe herself in the heart of the country. Here the sun penetrated the early mist in slanting rays between the trees. It made dazzle which could be temporarily b
linding
—which was why, on the morning that Ruth almost collided with a soft-shoed solitary runner, she did not realise that the runner was, of all unexpected people,
Erle
.

He was in
running
shorts and a thin silk T-shirt which hid nothing of his tan and the strong ripple of muscles of chest and shoulders. As he held her off from
him
with an outstretched hand, she thought—Funny that I should ever have wondered whether he might have gone to fat. His body is as fit and disciplined and male as when he used to win things at school sports ...

Then she was apologising, ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t see you,’ and he was saying, ‘Why—aren’t I big enough?’

‘It was the sun.’ She stepped into shadow and got him in focus. ‘I’ve never seen you here before.’

‘No, I usually use one of the parks nearer my place, Giulia or Balestra. Do you walk here often yourself?’

‘Fairly, on summer mornings. It clears away the cobwebs. But don’t let me stop you, please.’

‘It doesn’t matter. I’d nearly finished the stint I allow myself.’ He fell into step beside her. ‘Is this before breakfast or after for you?’

‘Oh, before.
Cicely
wasn’t up.’

‘
Then why not finish your own stint by walking back to the car with me and letting me give you breakfast? I parked at the Canestre entrance, so we’re on our way.’

Ruth hesitated. ‘
Cicely
will wonder where I am.’

‘She won’t for long, if she isn’t up yet. I’ll drive you back on the way to my office.’

‘You mean—at your apartment?’

He said drily, ‘That’s where I’m in the habit of breakfasting. And as with you, at this hour my neighbours can’t suspect me of having sinister designs upon you. Will you come?’

Wanting to accept—she had never visited his apartment—she said, ‘Thanks, I’d like to, as long as I’m out for not much longer than if I’d walked as far as usual.’

‘H’m—a tight schedule, but we’ll do our best. And I warn you, you’ll have to help to
get
breakfast. My daily woman doesn’t arrive until after I’ve left.’

When they reached his flat he asked if he could leave her to watch the coffee percolator, heat some rolls, and lay a tray for carrying out on to his tiny balcony, while
he showered and changed.

‘If you’ll show me where I find things,’ said Ruth. There was something intimate and friendly about coping with his domestic chores, and after years of eating alone she was glad, as she had been when Cicely came, to breakfast opposite someone; to be able to pass the butter or to ask ‘More coffee?’ instead of reaching in silence for the dish or pot.

E
rle
might have read her thoughts, for as she poured coffee and gave him his cup, he remarked, ‘I must say there’s something to be said for certain aspects of marriage, such as breakfast for two as a matter of course.’

‘And someone to get it for you?’

He grinned. ‘Well, naturally! Though for the sake of something attractively feminine across the table I might set
tl
e for getting it myself now and then. But tell me,’ he was grave now, ‘don’t you ever miss the masculine touch yourself?’

She raised frank eyes to his. ‘Yes. Often,’ she said.

‘I’m sorry.’ His hand could just reach hers and it did in a momentary pressure. ‘Have you ever thought of remedying that?’

‘You mean—marrying again?’

‘Considering it.’

She shook her head. ‘Not seriously. It wouldn’t be
the same.’

He took her up sharply. ‘But of course it wouldn’t be the same! You couldn’t want it to be. Every deep exp
eri
e
nce has to be new, not the copy of a prototype. For two different men you’d be different too. What was your husband like?’

How to describe Alec in a few words to another man?
At last Ruth said, ‘Quiet. Modest. Considerate. Reliable as a rock.’

‘Then don’t look for another of his kind. For you’d either be disappointed or for ever be drawing comparisons.’

She poured herself some more coffee. ‘I’m not “looking”,’ she said with a finality which he seemed to recognise as he let the argument go.

Presen
tl
y he asked, ‘How goes Cicely’s affair with the Sforza boy?’

Ruth smiled self-consciously. ‘I rather think it’s off
,’
she admitted.

‘Off?’
Erle
’s chuckle was one of triumph. ‘What did I tell you? You’d have me believe in her grand passion for me, and she’s nothing but a butterfly on the flit! Who is the object of her latest amour, then?’

‘It isn’t an amour. She treats this one as cavalierly as she did Zeppe Sforza. He’s an English boy, here with his sister. He’s an artist and he takes her sketching. She shows talent too. She’s done an awfully good one
of the Spanish Steps
—
’

Erle
cut in, ‘You’re talking for talking’s sake. Simply to avoid having to eat your own words. Three of us in as many weeks! And to
think
I half listened to you and have avoided the child
!’

Cornered, Ruth took refuge in attack. ‘And that hasn’t been kind of you either. She’s worried since as to whether she’s offended you, and if so, how.’

‘Well, really
!’
he protested. ‘If I see her, I’m to curb my natural instincts to flatter a pretty girl, and if I don’t, I’m being brutal. You can’t have it both ways, my dear Ruth, you really can’t
!’

‘I only asked you not to encourage her. I know she probably tries to set the pace.’

‘And that’s something you should learn about me. In dealings with your sex, I set my own pace or it isn
’
t set at all.’

‘And that’s pretty arrogant of you,’ said Ruth, though she wondered, remembering Stella Parioli’s confident kiss for him. But she was relieved too, as it meant that if Cicely instigated some flirtatious nonsense with him, he had ways of dealing with it.

He shrugged. ‘Arrogant or not, it’s the way I tick,’ he said. Then, ‘By the way, though, mind you, I don’t admit you’re right about Cicely. Does she regard you as one of my “commitments”, ripe for her jealousy?’

Ruth’s eyes widened. ‘
Me?
Of course not. She has no cause—
’