Summer at the Lake (47 page)

‘Get everyone into the marquee,’ Imogen’s father instructed in the manner of a man who was used to taking charge and giving out orders. ‘Give them something to drink.’

Seemingly oblivious to everything going on around her – people scraping back chairs and reluctantly leaving the scene of so much high drama – Imogen launched herself away from her mother and tried again to get at Floriana. Once more Adam ensured her way was blocked.

‘I bet you’re really pleased with yourself, aren’t you?’ she threw at Floriana. ‘You’ve got what you’ve always wanted. Well, you’re welcome to him! Everyone told me I was too good for him, now I know they were right. But you two deserve each other. I hope you’ll be perfectly miserable together!’

Out of the corner of his eye, Adam noticed one of the guests holding up a mobile phone to film them. Enough really was enough, he decided. ‘Floriana,’ he said firmly, ‘I think we should go now.’

‘Yes, why don’t you?’ Imogen said bitterly. ‘And whoever you are –’ this was to Adam – ‘I hope you’re not a serious boyfriend, because take it from me; you won’t stand a chance of breaking these two up; they’re inseparable, joined at the bloody hip.’

With that last piece of invective issued, she allowed herself to be led away by her parents and brother, leaving the three of them alone and isolated in what Adam felt was the wreckage of their very own ground zero.

Shock still crashing through her, her stomach clenching and her cheeks flaming, her breath trapped in the tension of her chest, Floriana stared at her oldest and closest friend and experienced an emotion she never dreamt she would ever feel: she was ashamed of Seb.

‘I’m sorry, Florrie,’ he said, loosening his tie.

‘So you should be,’ she snapped back at him, taut with anger. ‘You’ve made me out to be something I’m not.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he repeated. ‘Really sorry. I’m sorry for everything.’

‘Stop it!’ she cried. ‘Saying the same thing over and over doesn’t make everything suddenly right.’

‘Please don’t be cross with me.’

Exasperated, she flung her hands in the air. ‘I don’t know what else you expect me to be.’

‘It wasn’t my finest hour, I agree.’

‘My God, Seb, even by your standards that has to be an understatement of monumental proportions! I’d say that what you’ve just done is a personal best in cruel wickedness. What are you going to do now?’

He shrugged. It was the shrug of a thoroughly defeated man and caught Floriana off guard; it gave compassion a chance to suffuse her fury with him. ‘I have no idea,’ he said. ‘Other than go home. Except I don’t have a home now. Not really.’ He yanked off his tie, shoved it into his jacket pocket, and undid the top button of his shirt. ‘You must be Adam,’ he said, as though only now aware of his presence. ‘You’re not what I expected.’

‘Funnily enough, you’re exactly what I expected,’ Adam replied coolly.

He raised an eyebrow. ‘A total bastard?’

‘Something like that, yes.’

‘Fair play to your honesty. I can respect that.’

Just when Floriana thought the situation had reached its zenith, the sound of soothing music flowed out incongruously from the marquee – like the musicians on the
Titanic
, the string quartet must have been given orders to play.

‘I guess they’re going to go ahead with the reception,’ Seb said morosely. ‘Why not? It’s all paid for; the guests might just as well enjoy something of the day. Along with my disgrace. They’ll be able to dine out on that for years to come.’

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake!’ Floriana rebuked him sharply. ‘Don’t start feeling sorry for yourself. Anything but that. Adam, let’s go. And, Seb, you’d better come with us.’

They both looked at her, surprised.

‘You can hardly stick around here, Seb, can you? Unless you’re hungry and fancy lunch?’

For an awful moment she didn’t know whether he was going to laugh or cry. Thankfully he did neither, just nodded and silently fell in step.

What on earth am I going to do with him? she thought. And why do I always end up feeling responsible for him?

Because, she answered herself as they followed the winding path down to where the boat had dropped them off earlier, he’s a part of your life and always will be.

A light sleeper all her life, Esme was no stranger to waking in the middle of the night. And that night Villa Sofia seemed determined to disrupt her sleep with its aged structure shifting and creaking in the silence of the hot, airless night. She had been wakened by an extra loud creak, followed by another and, seconds later, she’d heard the sound of a door opening.

The luminous hands on her travel clock told her it was ten minutes past two. She turned over onto her back, stretching out her legs and arms either side of her in search of a cooler spot in the bed. She closed her eyes and tried to get back to sleep, but her mind was instantly too active, picking over the day’s events, to allow her to drift off.

She had been helping Domenico deadhead the roses in the garden when Adam and Floriana had returned long before she had expected them. But they hadn’t been alone. Introductions and apologies had followed, along with a request that Seb stay the night with them as he didn’t have anywhere else to go. Anywhere else where the rascal dared show his face, more like it!

While Floriana had shown him upstairs, taking with him his luggage which they’d collected from the Grand Hotel Tremezzo, Adam, as impassive as ever, had filled Esme in on what had taken place. It was exactly what she had feared since yesterday when Floriana had agreed to meet Seb.

Esme tossed and turned some more, then gave in to the need to go to the lavatory. Back in her bedroom, she paused at the open window and thought she saw someone on the swing seat down in the garden. Straining her eyes in the darkness, she saw that it was Floriana and Seb, their heads bent close together. She turned away, not wanting to see any more.

But was it such a surprise that they were there together? Wasn’t it to be expected they would want to be alone so that Seb could unburden himself fully while Floriana listened? Until now he hadn’t emerged from his room; apparently he hadn’t been able to cope with facing people. Floriana had taken a meal up to him, but she had later returned with the tray untouched. More than ever Esme was convinced that the dynamics of their relationship was based on the simplest of laws: Floriana was the giver and Seb was the taker. It was not a healthy arrangement, to her mind.

Yet Esme wasn’t without sympathy for Seb. Here was a young man who, at the eleventh hour, had realised that he’d got it hopelessly wrong. Though heaven only knew why he’d had to bail out quite so dramatically. Unless it had been his way to prove to Floriana what he was capable of doing for her sake, a profoundly public gesture that declared the extent of his love for her; the ultimate showy display of romantic muscle. What woman wouldn’t be flattered and succumb to such a gesture?

But where did it leave poor Adam? How could he possibly compete with not just the immeasurable depth of what Floriana and Seb shared, but with the inevitable seismic shift in their relationship now that Seb had revealed his feelings for Floriana? This, after all, was what she had wanted so badly two and a half years ago.

Back in bed now, Esme closed her eyes and tried to shut out her misgivings for coming here. She should have left well alone. If she hadn’t encouraged Floriana to attend Seb’s wedding in an attempt to draw a line under matters, none of this would be happening. But selfishly she had allowed her needs to manipulate the situation, transferring her own desire for closure – of her nineteen-year-old self – onto Floriana.

And what of that closure? All she had achieved in coming here was confirmation of what she had known all along: that Angelo had been a bad lot. As for Marco, she knew nothing more about him, nothing that would put to rest the emotions that had been so thoroughly stirred up these last few months.

She sighed deeply and yet again tried to find a cooler spot on which to lie. Just a few days more and this would be all over, she thought, and then she would be back at home. She couldn’t wait to be gone. To lie peacefully in her own cool bed and to have Euridice at her side.

The following morning, before anyone was up, and before it became too hot, Adam went for a run. Running was good for clearing the mind, so he told himself as he pounded down the hillside. At the bottom of the hill he paused for the traffic to pass, then turned left onto the main road that ran parallel with the lake. There was no pavement to speak of, and despite the early hour, a surprising number of cars, trucks and scooters were hurtling by. Keeping his wits about him, he pressed on, checking over his shoulder every so often to keep an eye on the traffic from behind. Strictly speaking he should be on the other side of the narrow stretch of road, facing the oncoming traffic, but there was a complete absence of pavement there.

Eventually the road widened, giving him the safety of a wide tree-lined promenade of pavement and an impressive view of the lake where, across the smooth water, Bellagio could be seen rising through the early morning dusky-rose haze. He was tempted to stop and admire the view, but his legs were programmed now to keep moving, just as his mind was programmed not to dwell on Floriana and Seb. Whatever will be, he’d told himself last night while trying to sleep. If Floriana was meant to be with Seb, then so be it. Besides, there was no commitment between himself and Floriana, no more than a friendship that had tipped over into something more. He could easily detach himself from that, couldn’t he? All it would take would be a slight readjustment of thinking. It wasn’t the same as when Jesse left him. Nothing like it. It was disappointing, but not the end of the world. Very little was, when push came to shove.

Maybe it would never have worked out between them anyway. After all, what did he and Floriana really have in common? No, she was better off with Seb. He would bow out with good grace. His pride required that at the very least.

He upped his speed, gritted his teeth and pushed on.

He was passing the Grand Hotel Tremezzo where Seb had been staying, when the music he was listening to on his iPhone was interrupted by a call. He slammed to a stop, bent over to catch his breath, then answered it.

It was Giovanni Zazzaroni. ‘Signor Strong, I’m sorry to ring you so early, but I’m due out of town today and didn’t want to miss you again. Is this a good time to speak?’

Still fighting for his breath, Adam said, ‘Yes, it’s fine, but you’ll have to excuse me, I’m out for a run and I’m not as fit as I should be.’

The other man laughed. ‘I admire your discipline, exercising on holiday and this early in the day.
Bravo!
’

‘So what can I do for you?’

‘No, it is what I can do for you. I have news for you regarding the Bassani family, in particular Marco Bassani.’

His breath still ragged, Adam said, ‘Go on.’

Floriana had seen Adam going out and was anxiously waiting for him to return; she badly wanted to talk to him. He’d been gone nearly an hour now. How long a run was he doing? To Switzerland and back?

It upset her to think how he might be feeling, and how could she blame him after she’d brought Seb back with them yesterday? But she couldn’t have abandoned Seb. She’d made a promise in Oxford when he’d tried to end his life that she would never give up on him, she wasn’t about to break that promise now, not when he needed her more than he ever had.

Could she explain that to Adam? Would he understand that Seb literally had no one else to whom he could turn? He was alone in the world. As he’d admitted last night in the garden, he had become isolated from the few friends he had in London because Imogen hadn’t liked them; she had wanted her circle of friends to be his friends. Which was totally in keeping with a possessive and jealous nature – isolate the object of your desire and keep that person all to yourself. It was one of the reasons Imogen had been so determined to be rid of Floriana.

For the first time they had discussed in real and objective detail what Floriana had witnessed that day in London when she’d followed Imogen to the Ritz. ‘I don’t understand how she could have done that if she loved you,’ Floriana had said.

‘It is possible to love more than one person at the same time, I guess,’ Seb had said. ‘And from your description, it sounds like it was a previous boyfriend you saw her with. She was probably still figuring out what she felt for him.’

‘That seems remarkably fair-minded of you,’ Floriana had commented.

‘I’m not always as blinkered as you think I am. Just as I’m not blind to noticing that your friends – Adam and Esme – don’t approve of me being here with you.’

‘They don’t know you, that’s all,’ she’d said. ‘And nor will they if you keep hiding in your room from them.’

‘I’m not hiding there now, am I?’ he’d replied, bending down to the bottle of wine they’d brought out with them and topping up their glasses.

‘Only because they’re not around,’ she’d countered. ‘Don’t be a coward, Seb, avoiding people isn’t the answer.’

‘What is the answer?’

‘Try asking for help. That would do for starters.’

‘I’m not good at that.’

‘I know, it’s why you get yourself into such a mess. But you’re going to have to learn to do it, because otherwise I won’t ever be able to stop worrying about you.’

‘But I like you worrying about me,’ he’d said, his tone light. ‘It makes me feel loved.’

‘You are loved, Seb. You always have been. Even when you shut me out.’ She had told him then about meeting Imogen and learning about the ultimatum he had been given.

‘I’m sorry I made the choice I did. It was wrong. Like so many things I’ve done. But I didn’t want to lose Imogen. I really did love her.’ In the warm, still darkness he’d put his arm around Floriana. ‘What I know now, and without a shred of doubt, is that it should have been you I was marrying today.’

‘Well, it wasn’t.’

‘I’ve messed up spectacularly, haven’t I?’

‘No question.’

‘You could at least sugar-coat it for me.’

‘Would that really make you feel any better?’