Summer at the Lake (48 page)

‘No, but sitting here with you does. Wouldn’t it be great if we could just stay here for ever and grow happily old together?’

‘I’m not ready to grow old yet.’

‘Don’t be so pedantic. You know what I mean.’

Yes, she thought now, pulling on a pair of shorts and a vest top to go down to the shop for that morning’s fresh bread, she knew exactly what Seb had meant. He wanted to avoid returning home to face the fallout of his actions.

She was creeping down the stairs as quietly as she could, trying not to disturb Esme or Seb, when she realised Esme was already in the kitchen.

‘You’re up early,’ Floriana said.

‘I couldn’t sleep.’

‘Me neither.’

‘What about our guest?’

Esme’s gaze was as pointed as her question and Floriana felt the colour rush to her face. Shocked that Esme thought she had slept with Seb, she opened her mouth to respond, but closed it abruptly at the sight of Adam appearing through the open kitchen door.

Breathing hard, sweat pouring from him, his T-shirt damp and clinging to his chest and shoulders, he said, ‘Esme, I think you might want to sit down.’

From her table at the open-air restaurant of the Hotel Danieli and while listening to the early morning bells ring out, Esme sipped her coffee and watched boats of all shapes and sizes busily traversing the lagoon. In the distance was the island of San Giorgio and to her right was the Basilica of Santa Maria della Salute and the Punta della Dogana marking the entrance to the Grand Canal. Venice; there was no other place like it in the world.

A lifetime ago she had stared with the same fascinated wonder at this uniquely magnificent view; now here she was again. Then she had been with her father, this time she was here with Adam and Floriana.

Though less than a four-hour drive from Lake Como, she had been concerned that the trip would be too tiring for her to do in one day and so she had made the suggestion that if they could find rooms at such short notice, she would pay for the three of them to stay at the Danieli. It seemed a fitting way to go about things, completing the circle.

They had arrived last night, leaving Seb on his own back at Villa Sofia. Esme had dreaded Floriana wanting to bring him along for the ride, but to her very great relief there had been no mention of him joining them. His predicament had taken rather a back seat in the face of Adam’s news that Giovanni Zazzaroni had asked around the elderly members of his family and discovered that one of his great-uncles had been an
avvocato
in Como and had overseen Giulia Bassani’s will following her death. From there, and following a series of addresses given to him, Giovanni had tracked down Marco’s present whereabouts and actually spoken to him. She had to admire the man’s tenacity in pursuing the task he’d taken on so readily.

The first decision that had to be made and which only Esme could make, was whether or not to meet Marco face to face. After Giovanni had explained the purpose of contacting him, Marco had apparently expressed a keen desire for Esme to ring him with a view to meeting. As absurd as it was, she hadn’t been able to bring herself to ring the number and speak directly to him after all these years. Fearing she would become tongue-tied and embarrassingly inarticulate, she had asked Adam to speak to him on her behalf.

‘How did he sound?’ she’d asked the second he’d ended the call – a call that had been conducted with Floriana jammed close to him in order to hear what was said.

‘Curious would be a fair description,’ Adam had replied.

‘He’s invited you to have lunch with him in Venice!’ Floriana had chipped in excitedly. ‘You will go, won’t you?’

‘My, how you’ve changed your tune,’ Esme had remarked. ‘I was under the impression you weren’t in favour of taking things any further?’

‘That was then. This is
now.
And who knows, this might be the only chance you ever get to meet Marco.’

‘Writing me off, are you?’

‘You know what I mean. We’ve come this far, let’s go. Let’s go to Venice!’

It was so good to see Floriana’s spirits returned to their normally highly animated state, Esme could do nothing but be swept along by her enthusiasm.

But now, now that in a few short hours she would be face to face with Marco, Esme’s enthusiasm was tempered by a growing sense of doubt about the enterprise. Was lunch such a good idea? What if they had nothing to say to each other? Perhaps a brief exchange over a drink would have been better, at least then there would be a built-in easy way out should the conversation falter and dry up completely. But whatever they discussed, she knew with absolute certainty she would never tell him about the baby. What would be the point? What was done, was done.

A large passenger ferry came into view across the lagoon. So many people on the move, she reflected, and each and every one of them on board the ship had a story to tell. Some perfectly ordinary, some perfectly extraordinary. And no two exactly alike.

What would be Marco’s story? Had he been a good priest? Had the priesthood been as fulfilling as he’d imagined it would be? Had there been any moments of regret for him, having given his life to the Church to the exclusion of all else?

Oh, what arrogance of her to think that he might, she chided herself. Any regrets she had were hers and hers alone, it was not something to inflict on others.

Her coffee and breakfast finished, she decided she would go for a walk, leaving Adam and Floriana to have breakfast on their own. Heaven only knew they needed some time alone to sort themselves out.

Adam knocked on Floriana’s door to see if she was ready to go for breakfast. When there was no response from her, he tried Esme’s door, but again drew a blank. Maybe they were already upstairs on the roof terrace.

He found Floriana there alone and talking intently on her mobile. Seb, again, he thought irritably.

Seeing him, Floriana beckoned him over, at the same time mouthing an apology. He sat down and tried to ignore her conversation by concentrating on the view. He’d never been to Venice before and couldn’t think for the life of him why he hadn’t. A shame they were here for such a short time. A shame also that he and Floriana hadn’t had a chance yet to talk properly. He kept waiting for the right opportunity, but either Esme had been around, or Seb had monopolised Floriana.

It was impossible not to overhear what Floriana was saying and he soon realised it wasn’t Seb she was talking to. Whoever it was, there was a problem going on somewhere back at home. Finally she said goodbye to the caller. ‘Stay in touch, Robert, and if I hear anything, I’ll let you know.’

‘I don’t believe it,’ she said, putting her phone down on the table. ‘That was my brother-in-law – he says my sister’s left her husband.’

‘Why?’

‘Ann discovered he was having an affair.’ She shook her head. ‘It just doesn’t seem possible. If you’d asked me, and I know this will sound unkind, but I’d have said Paul was too dull to have an affair.’

‘Where’s your sister now?’

‘Nobody knows. She left a message for Paul last night telling him he was welcome to see as many women as he wanted, and while he was about it, he could take care of the children as well.’

Without warning, Floriana suddenly stood up, bumping the table, nearly knocking over an empty water glass. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said with a frown, ‘do you mind having breakfast on your own? I really ought to speak to my parents to see if they know what’s going on.’

Adam watched her go. There goes another lost opportunity, he thought.

Leaning out of her bedroom window to get the best signal for her mobile, Floriana listened in stunned silence to her mother.

It was true. Paul really had been having an affair, and Ann really had walked out on him. How had it happened? Yes, they bickered and sniped and got on each other’s nerves, but that was their thing, it was what stoked their relationship.

‘So where is she, Mum?’ Floriana asked.

‘She won’t say. She says she’s staying where she is until she’s decided what she’s going to do.’

‘Is Paul serious about this other woman?’

‘He says it was a terrible mistake, just one of those office situations that got out of hand.’

Floriana scoffed. ‘Oh yes, we’ve all done that, haven’t we?’

‘Sarcasm won’t help, darling.’

‘Well, you can hardly blame Ann for reacting the way she has.’

‘I agree, but what about the children? They’re caught in the middle. Your father and I have offered to look after them but Ann is adamant we mustn’t. Your father says this is her way of punishing Paul, to make him appreciate all that she does. And I know the two of you haven’t always seen eye to eye, but Ann’s trouble is that she’s not like you, she takes life too seriously and works too hard.’

‘Are you saying I’m a slacker blithely sailing through life without a care in the world?’

‘You know exactly what I mean. You’re more relaxed, you let yourself enjoy life.’

Thinking how she’d been anything but relaxed in the last couple of days, Floriana said, ‘So when did this happen?’

‘Three days ago.’

‘Mum, why didn’t you tell me?’

‘The same reason you didn’t tell us about your accident last December; we didn’t want to spoil your holiday. I’m very cross with Robert for disturbing you; he should never have done that. How’s it going, by the way?’

‘We’re in Venice now.’

‘Venice! Lucky you. What about the wedding? How did that go?’

Floriana took a breath. ‘It didn’t. Seb literally jilted Imogen at the altar. Although strictly speaking there wasn’t an altar.’

‘Good God! But why?’

Not wanting to explain, she said, ‘Look, Mum, this is costing me a fortune; I’d better go. But ring me if there’s anything I can do. I’ll be home tomorrow. Meanwhile, give my love to Dad and tell Ann she can call me if she wants to.’

The call ended, Floriana continued leaning out of the window, resting her elbows on the sill. Down on the waterfront tourists were streaming off a
vaporetto
and adding to the crowds that were already gathering. She wondered what Seb was doing right now. He would like it here. So many people he could be anonymous amongst, so many narrow winding streets in which to lose himself.

Annoyed with herself that she should think of Seb at a time like this, she switched her thoughts back to Ann. It wasn’t often she felt sorry for her sister, but right now she genuinely did. What must Ann be going through? And where was she?

It had been one of Ann’s proud boasts that she had never been apart from the children for more than a night, and Floriana supposed it was a mark of just how hurt and angry she was that she was using Clare and Thomas to punish Paul, who really, when it came down to it, had not been the poster boy for hands-on fathers.

But had Ann given him a chance to be a more interactive father? Or had she, with her superwoman efficiency, frozen Paul out? Even if she had, it didn’t give Paul carte blanche to shag some work colleague over the photocopier! How about telling Ann how he felt? How about thrashing things out and being honest?

But then who was Floriana to talk when she still hadn’t found the ideal moment to talk to Adam about Seb?

During the drive here yesterday, and sitting in the back of the car, her gaze snagging on Adam’s in the rear-view mirror as he drove, she had longed to say something to him, but the conversation they needed to have had to be done in private. And privacy seemed to be in short supply just now.

Last night, after they’d arrived and had eaten dinner, she had patiently waited for Esme to go to bed so she could be alone with Adam. But then Seb had ruined things by ringing her, complaining that he was bored. The moment Adam had realised who it was, he’d said goodnight and disappeared. She had knocked on his door when she’d finished talking with Seb, but he’d either gone for a late night walk or had gone to bed. Disappointed, and too wired to sleep, she had decided to go for a walk herself, despite it being gone midnight.

Wandering around the eerily quiet piazza, the basilica beautifully illuminated beneath the velvety night sky, the campanile looming unfeasibly tall in the darkness, she had hoped she might bump into Adam. But, of course, she hadn’t.

She was losing him, she knew. As with a number of her boyfriends, he couldn’t handle the Seb situation.

She was beginning to think she couldn’t either.

At Floriana’s suggestion they were secretly keeping watch over Esme. As surveillance work went, it wasn’t easy given that St Mark’s was chock-a-block with tourists and pigeons.

‘I feel like something out of
Spooks
,’ Floriana said from the other side of the pillar they were hiding behind in the colonnaded walkway. ‘I have this overwhelming urge to start muttering into my sleeve while glancing furtively over my shoulder.’

‘Esme would be furious if she knew we’re doing what she expressly told us not to do,’ Adam said.

‘If she finds out, I’ll say it was in a good cause, that I wanted to make sure she was all right.’

‘And she’ll ask you precisely what harm you imagined an octogenarian could inflict on her.’

‘Fair point. But you must think the same or you wouldn’t be here with me.’

Where else would I be? Adam thought dismally. When else was he going to get the chance to be alone with Floriana and actually talk?

He continued to stare across the piazza to where Esme was standing in front of the campanile and facing the clock tower. She looked so small and vulnerable, lost amongst the sea of people. ‘Have you heard anything more from Seb today?’ he casually asked.

There was a noticeable pause from the other side of the pillar. ‘No. He’s gone quiet.’

‘Is that a good or a bad sign?’

‘I don’t know. That’s the thing about Seb, you never really know what he’s thinking.’

‘Are you very worried about him?’

‘I’ve always been worried about Seb; it goes with the territory. But if I’m completely honest, I’m more worried about you at the moment.’

‘Me?’ Adam said guardedly, resisting the urge to lean forward to look at her. ‘Why’s that?