Saddle the Wind (61 page)

‘I said
no
.’

She forced herself to look him in the eye while he gazed back at her in disbelief. Never in five years had she ever denied him so categorically before. In the face of his swiftly rising anger she could not sustain the baldness of her denial, however, and in an attempt to blunt its harshness and appeal to some reason that still might be there she shook her head distractedly and said, ‘Alfredo,
please
. Let me rest. That’s all I want.’

For long moments they remained as they were, looking at one another, while she sensed that the eruption of his anger was being held back by a thread. Then, at last, sighing, he straightened and lurched up from the bed.

‘
I’m
tired as well, anyway,’ he said. ‘And if you’re tired too …’

He turned from her, moved across the floor. In the doorway he turned and looked back at her, a long look, then turned away again.

When his door had closed behind him Blanche lay in a turmoil of mixed emotions. She had won a battle. She had defied him, outright, though the act had left her with her heart fluttering and her palms damp. She was well aware, though, that it didn’t matter how strong her spirit might be; when it suited him he would not hesitate to use his superior physical strength – he never had in the past – and against that she could do very little.

Even so – and as she lay there she set her lips in
determination – she would do all in her power to see that he never touched her again. She had denied him and got away with it and she could to it again. She was determined – she would never allow him to use her as he had done in the past.

She saw very little of Alfredo the following day. When she went in for breakfast – finding Adriana already sitting at the table – she learned from Edgardo that Alfredo had already eaten and left the house. His stamina could only amaze her. It could only come from that compulsion that was continuously driving him on, she thought.

She had thought that she might take Adriana and call on Marianne, but it began to rain heavily soon after breakfast and the rain kept up for the rest of the morning. In the end, immediately after luncheon, she put on her hat and cape, picked up her umbrella and, leaving Adriana in the care of Betta, prepared to set out alone. In the hall she was met by Edgardo – who as usual just appeared to be passing through at the same moment. He expressed surprise that the signora wished to go out in such weather, but Blanche merely told him that she would be back later.

Turning west onto the Via Varese, she walked to the end of the street and turned right onto the Via Porta Imperiale, one of the main streets in the city. There, after making enquiries, she caught an omnibus as far as the Palazzo Reale. By the time she got off again the rain had stopped and with its cessation the Christmas shoppers had begun to appear, crowding the pavements as they jostled by with their loaded bags and baskets.

It was only a short walk to the Via Gabriele, and in just a few minutes Blanche had reached it and was making her way along to number 27. On reaching it
she rang the bell and a minute later she was inside the hall and she and Marianne were holding one another.

Blanche stood at one of the tall windows of the library looking down onto the Via Gabriele. The rain had begun again. She sighed. Behind her, Marianne said, from her seat on the sofa:

‘What are you sighing for?’

‘I was just thinking,’ Blanche said, ‘– how the time goes by. How swiftly. It’s hard to believe that it will be Christmas Day in just three days.’

She moved back to the sofa, bent and replaced her teacup on the coffee table. She smiled down at Marianne.

‘It’s so good to see you,’ she said.

‘And you, Blanche.’ Marianne reached out and took Blanche’s hand, pressed it briefly before releasing it. ‘And such a lovely surprise.’

With Gentry out on business, the two women had spent the time talking of this and that, their conversation, however, where Blanche was concerned – she had seen to it – never getting out beyond the shallow, safe waters.

Looking at Marianne, Blanche thought again how well she looked – and prosperous, too – from her simple ochre home gown to her casually dressed hair and the few pieces of simple jewellery she wore. By contrast Blanche felt that her own day dress was out-of-date and had been worn a few times too many. And if Marianne’s appearance reflected the happiness she had found with Gentry – which it was clear that she had – then Blanche felt that to anyone with half an eye her own appearance must be a good indication of her own situation.

Not that she would have admitted it for a moment, her unhappiness. Faced with the evidence of Marianne’s happiness she found herself even more anxious to
conceal the reality of her own state. Over the years she had never admitted to Marianne the existence of the rift between herself and Alfredo – though Marianne would have to have been blind not to realize that it was there, even though she was unaware of the extent of it. Even when Alfredo had denied Blanche visits to her friends she had made excuses for him. The result was that she had given her marriage a façade that bore little relation to the substance beyond. And while Marianne and Gentry were almost certainly aware by now that there were problems in Blanche’s marriage, they knew nothing of Alfredo’s gambling, the losses he was incurring, the continual eroding away of the material of their livelihood; they knew nothing of his bouts of drunkenness, his intolerance, his passionate jealousies.

Looking at the clock on the mantelpiece, Blanche said with a shake of her head: ‘Half-past four. I must get back to Adriana – and to make sure I’m ready for dinner.’

‘Is Alfredo expecting you?’ Marianne got up from the sofa.

‘Let’s say that he expects me to
be there
,’ Blanche replied quickly, ‘– whenever he wants me.’

Immediately she had spoken she felt that she had said too much. Marianne said nothing, but was looking at her with sympathy – a look that Blanche could not suffer. Blanche remained standing there, as if undecided whether to go or to stay. Marianne said:

‘Listen, on Boxing Day we’re going to the opera house to see
Aida
. Madame Karalech is singing. We’ve got a box there. Why don’t you and Alfredo join us? We can have supper afterwards, the four of us.’

Blanche said, ‘I remember we saw Madame Karalech in Palermo, Alfredo and I, when we were first married.’

‘Will you come? Ask Alfredo. It would be lovely if we could all go together.’

Blanche nodded. ‘Oh, it would.’ She was sure that Alfredo would not agree. Nevertheless she said, ‘I’ll ask him. I’ll let you know.’

‘If not, perhaps we can meet for dinner over the Christmas season.’

‘Yes, I hope so.’

‘And I do so want to see Adriana. What a shame you couldn’t bring her today. Still, you’re living here now, so there will be plenty of opportunities. I’m sure we’ll see quite a change in her since we saw her last.’

‘Oh, yes. She’s a tiny, solemn little creature.’ Blanche smiled. ‘But she’s beautiful.’

‘It’s my one regret,’ Marianne said, lowering her eyes,’ – that Gentry and I have no children.’ She sighed. ‘I don’t know whether it’s me or …’

She let her voice fade, and Blanche, looking at her, could see what the words had cost her. And, knowing Marianne, she was sure that it was unlikely that she had made any such admission to anyone before.

Marianne raised her eyes to Blanche. ‘Still,’ she said, with a little smile, ‘we’re young, we’re strong, we’re healthy. There’s still plenty of time.’

‘Yes, of course.’

And it was as if Marianne’s words had freed Blanche from her own self-imposed restraint, for suddenly, reaching out, she took Marianne’s hands, gripped them.

‘Why am I pretending, Marianne?’ she said. ‘Why with you, of all people? I hate him! I hate him! I can’t stand to live with him another moment.’ She stood there, holding Marianne’s hands while the tears welled up in her eyes, spilled over and ran down her cheeks.

They stood holding one another. After a time Blanche grew calmer, and Marianne asked:

‘What are you going to do about it?’

‘There’s only one thing I
can
do,’ Blanche replied. ‘I must leave him. I must just take Adriana and go.’

‘Where? Back to England?’

‘Yes. I’ll find work there. I can support us both.’ She paused. ‘The trouble is, there’s no one there for me any more.’

‘What about Mr Marsh? He’d help you, wouldn’t he?’

‘Oh, yes, I’m sure he would.’ Blanche shook her head. ‘But how could I go to him for help?’

Marianne said, ‘Well – if you decide to go, then you know I’ll help in any way I can. Gentry and me – you can depend on us, you know that.’

‘Yes, I know. Thank you.’

And, Blanche was determined, if things got any worse then that was what she must do. And if she still did not have enough money then she would have to ask Marianne and Gentry to lend her what she needed. It might be the only way.

Alfredo came in late for dinner that evening, sat uncommunicative at the table and left again soon afterwards so Blanche had no real opportunity to tell him of her visit to Marianne and of Marianne’s invitation to the opera. He was off to the casino, she assumed. For how much longer, she wondered, would he be able to hang on to their few remaining assets? With some irony she reminded herself that if she was dissatisfied with their present home in Messina, she might find that they were in an even worse situation come a year or two. The only certain thing about Alfredo’s gambling was that it always eventually ended with loss.

What time he returned from his club she had no idea; he did not awaken her. He joined her at breakfast the next morning – complaining of a headache and yawning over his newspaper. Knowing that she must have an answer for Marianne, she waited for the right opportunity to bring up the matter of their meeting. She did not need to wait for the right moment, though; Alfredo himself brought up the subject.

She had said to him that she wanted to go into the town to buy some Christmas gifts, and asked if she might have some money for the purpose. In response he took out his wallet, counted out some notes and grudgingly pushed them across the table towards her. ‘I thought you’d already gone out shopping,’ he said. ‘Didn’t you go yesterday?’

No, she said, she did not.

‘Then where did you go to in the rain in such a hurry?’ he said, and the tone of his voice and the look he gave her up under his eyebrows told her plainly that the matter of her departure from the house had been on his mind.

Angered by his question and its implication, Blanche said:

‘If you’re so intent on watching my every move I wonder you don’t get your spy to follow me. I’m sure Edgardo wouldn’t object.’

Alfredo gave a shrug. ‘Perhaps I shall.’

The scene having taken such a turn for the worse, Blanche tried to recover some of the lost ground. In a conciliatory tone she said:

‘I only went to see Marianne. I just wanted to call on her briefly, to say hello, and to let her know that we had arrived safely.’

‘You didn’t waste any time, did you?’

‘Alfredo, isn’t it natural that I should want to go to see her? We grew up together, you know that. You know how close we are.’

‘You mean you and Marianne?’

‘Of course I mean me and Marianne. Who else would I mean?’

Alfredo disregarded the question. ‘Was her husband there?’ he asked.

‘No, he was out. Why?’

He simply looked at her for a moment in silence, then picked up his coffee cup and drank down the sweet liquid in one swallow. As he set down the cup Blanche said:

‘She’s invited us to the opera the day after Christmas.’

He nodded. ‘Boxing Day, as you English call it.’

‘Yes.’ Blanche nodded and waited for him to go on, but he did not.

‘May we go?’ she said. ‘Paola Karalech is singing in
Aida
. Marianne and Gentry have a box. And we can all go to supper afterwards. Oh, it would be such a lovely evening – and I’d so like to spend some time with them. May we go?’

‘– No, I’m sorry.’

As she gazed at him in dismay he shook his head. ‘You’ll have to see them another time. I have other plans for Christmas. I want to invite some friends here on the 26th.’

‘Well – in that case, may we invite Marianne and Gentry for dinner on some other evening?’

He did not answer for a moment, and then he said:

‘We’ll see.’

And she suddenly realized that he was punishing her. He was punishing her for having refused him when he had come to her bedside.

So be it. She would not beg him. She gave a little nod of understanding and went back to her breakfast, although her appetite had quite gone.

Later that morning, after sending a message with Anita to Marianne regretting that they would not be able to join her and Gentry on Boxing Day, she and Betta and Adriana went shopping. It was a bright dry day, and the streets of Messina – so much narrower than those of Palermo – were crowded with Christmas shoppers. For Alfredo she bought some tobacco and a silk necktie. Then, while Betta led Adriana to another part of the street, she went into a toyshop where she bought for the child a little doll in a cradle (Adriana could not have enough dolls), a colourfully illustrated story book of
La Bella Addormentata nel Bosco
(Adriana spoke Italian – not to mention the Sicilian dialect – as naturally as she spoke English) and a drawing pad and a little box of
crayons. Afterwards she bought little gifts for the servants, Betta, Anita, and Anna the cook. For Edgardo she bought nothing. For Marianne she bought a box of lace handkerchiefs, and for Gentry a silk cravat. She also bought various coloured papers and baubles and a small, rather lopsided fir tree. She and Betta and Adriana returned to the villa on the Via Imera loaded down with the purchases. The excursion had been a positive one, though, and Blanche felt bright and buoyant from its effects.

During the afternoon (Alfredo was at his office in the city) Blanche and Adriana made trimmings from the coloured paper – yards of brightly coloured paper chains which they hung from the pictures and along the mantelpiece. The fir tree they set in a little tub of earth – which Betta brought in from a nearby park – and then decorated it with the baubles and with decorations they had made from the paper.