The Mermaid Garden (40 page)

table to Beppe, with his cousin on one side and a very close family

friend on the other. She sipped her wine and savored the moment, feel-

ing a warm sense of belonging.

After dinner Beppe gave a long and pompous speech, another sign

of his lack of respectability, the countess thought smugly. Not that it mattered. The guests laughed at his jokes and clapped loudly when he

had finished. Wealth glossed over his flaws as surely as her mother-in-

law’s diamonds glossed over the Aldorisios’. Glasses were raised, toasts were given, Dante stood up and gave a witty, self-deprecating speech,

which made everyone love him more. The girls secretly hoped to win

him, the mothers planned their strategies like colonels.

Costanza thought of Floriana and her impossible dream. If she

could see him now, she would realize how ridiculous she was to harbor

hopes of capturing his heart. A man like Dante would never notice a

local girl like her.

The countess watched the other mothers of young daughters with

a growing sense of competitiveness. There were some extremely lovely

girls in her midst, slimmer and more beautiful than Costanza. She

would have to assert more control over her diet if there was to be any

hope of fulfilling her dream. As soon as the opportunity arose, the

countess took Costanza by the hand and almost dragged her to the

other end of the garden, where Dante was talking to a small group

of attractive young people. He recognized Costanza immediately and

broke away from his friends to greet her.

“You’ve grown up,” he laughed, kissing her cheek. “Where’s your

crazy little friend?”

The countess bristled. “Hello, Dante, what a divine party.”

“I’m glad you could come, Contessa.” He took her hand and kissed

it formally.

“Costanza has been seeing a great deal of your sister Giovanna,” she

continued. “They’re intimate friends, aren’t you, darling? They write to each other all winter when Giovanna’s at school in Milan.”

“Is Floriana here?” He raised his eyes and swept them over the guests

who now mingled in the candlelit garden.

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Costanza hesitated, knowing her mother would not want her to

speak of Floriana. “No, she isn’t,” she said carefully.

Dante was surprised by the force of his disappointment.

“I don’t know what she’s up to these days,” the countess contin-

ued with a smile. “Dear little local girl. You know how things are, all very well playing with those sort of people when one’s little, but now

Costanza is a young lady, it’s only right that she mixes with her own

sort.” She gave a little sniff.

“I see,” said Dante. “Well, it’s good of you to come. I hope you enjoy

the rest of the party.” And he went back to join his friends. However,

his thoughts were drawn away from their conversation to the point in

the wall where Floriana used to climb up and spy.

Struck by the silliest idea, he strode into the house to get Good-

Night. The dog was lying asleep in the kitchen. He whistled for him,

and Good-Night, always eager to be part of an adventure, trotted hap-

pily into the park at his side. The music had started, and guests were

beginning to move onto the dance floor. Some wandered around the

gardens; others sat at tables and chairs now placed on the terrace, to

drink coffee and talk where it was quieter. The sky was bright with stars, the moon bathing the earth in a soft, silver light. Dante was tired of

talking to endless people, bored of having to play the role of hero when he felt he had done nothing that hadn’t been done by so many others,

a million times before. But his father liked to make a fuss. He enjoyed the fanfare and relished any excuse to beat his chest and show everyone how rich and important he was. He expected a great deal from his son,

but most of all he wanted to be a proud father, because to Beppe, face

was everything—hadn’t he earned it? Every lira?

As he approached the wall Dante’s stomach began to twist with

anxiety. The ghost of the little girl danced before his eyes, silhouetted against the night. He felt his throat tighten and wondered why he felt

such a crippling sense of loss.

Distracted by something at the wall, Good-Night bounded off.

Dante saw a shadow move, like a cat catching the light before jumping

lithely down. But it wasn’t a cat. As he got nearer, he saw that it was a beautiful young woman.

“Floriana? Is that you?”

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“Dante,” she said in a low voice. Good-Night rushed at her excitedly.

She laughed and ran her hands over his ears.

Dante watched in astonishment as she bent down to caress the dog

as if she wasn’t at all surprised to see him. For a moment he was too

stunned to speak. “He’s happy to see you,” he said at last.

“He’s always happy to see me. He’s my dearest friend.”

“So, you did look after him while I was away?”

“Of course, we’re almost inseparable.” She grinned up at him, and

he was struck by how lovely she looked in the moonlight. “I knew you

were back today because he didn’t come to see me.”

“So he runs off to find you, does he?”

“He’s very clever.”

“Because he’s a stray. They’re more streetwise than those who are

raised at home.”

He watched her closely as she stood up and smoothed down her

dress. Her body had lost the straight lines of girlhood and expanded

into gentle curves. He was surprised to see that she had breasts and a

little waist. Five years had transformed the grubby child into an arresting young woman, and he felt his heart inflate with wonder.

“Have you tired of your party already?” she asked, and the twinkle in

her eyes was so familiar to him.

“I sensed we were being spied on. I came to check our defenses.”

“You remembered the weak spot in the wall, then?”

“And the insurgent who knows how to climb in.”

“So what do you do when you catch one of these insurgents?”

He rubbed his chin and considered his answer. “I take her prisoner.”

Floriana’s heart thumped against her rib cage. “I think she’s more

cunning than you give her credit for.”

“I suppose you may be right. If she’s a stray like Good-Night, then

she’ll most certainly outwit a home boy like me.”

She laughed. “What if the insurgent agrees to call a temporary

truce?”

“You mean, put down her weapon and enter into peaceful talks?”

“Yes, that sort of thing. Only temporary, of course.”

“I think that can be arranged. Perhaps we had better walk on neutral

ground.”

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He jumped onto the wall and reached out his hand. She took it and

let him pull her onto the top. Touching him felt like the most natural

thing in the world, as if they had been familiar with each other’s skin forever, and she felt her spirits expand with happiness that they were

finally reunited, as God had so clearly intended.

Once on the other side, they began to stroll up the track, side by

side, Good-Night at their heels. There was a strange intimacy between

them, as if they knew each other so well they didn’t need to talk.

“Did you miss me?” he asked, sensing, as she did, that he was being

carried along by a strong current.

“Yes,” she replied. There was no point hiding the truth. “Did you

miss
me
?”

He paused and took her hand. “I didn’t think I did,” he said, sur-

prised by a sudden rush of tenderness. “But now I realize that I did. You have no idea how much.”

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23.

Floriana knew now that those five years of waiting had not been in

vain. Nothing could keep them apart, because the superior forces

of Fate would always draw them back together again, as inevitably as

the pull of gravity. It no longer mattered that she hadn’t been invited to the party, because Dante had sought her out in the one place he knew

where to find her.

They ambled slowly up the track, hand in hand, closing the gap that

those five years had opened. Then they sat on the rocks overlooking the ocean, and the moon lit a path across the water all the way to Heaven.

Floriana thought the night had never been more beautiful. The stars

were clearer than ever before, twinkling like shiny new memories, and

the breeze was warm and sweet with the scent of pine.

“I didn’t expect to find a woman at the wall,” Dante confessed,

sweeping his eyes over her features.

“What did you think, after five years?”

“That you’d be the same little girl lost, with knotted hair and big,

frightened eyes.”

“I was never frightened,” she laughed, nudging him playfully.

“Yes, you were. You just knew how to hide it.”

She shrugged. “I can’t allow myself the luxury of fear, Dante.”

He put his arm around her, drawing her against him. “I’ll never for-

get the first time I saw you at the gates. You were like a little prisoner, all grubby and disheveled, gazing through the bars at freedom. I’d taken

the gardens for granted until I saw them through your eyes. Everything

touched you, and you gazed in wonder at the simplest, most overlooked

things, like the birds in the trees, or the water whooshing out of the

fountain. And now, you’re a young woman, a
beautiful
young woman, but inside you’re still the same little girl lost, and I want to take care of you.”

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He took her face in his hand. He had spent the last five years adrift,

not knowing the reason for his disquiet, like a sailor so busy navigating the sea that he cannot hear the small voice calling him home. Looking

into her eyes, he knew that voice had been Floriana’s all along, and that now he was with her, he was home where he belonged.

Slowly, he bent his head and brushed her lips with his. She closed

her eyes and shut out the world, her senses aware only of the warm

sensation of his mouth parting her lips and kissing her deeply. Every

nerve tingled with the novelty of his touch and the naked intimacy of

his kiss, and she gave herself to him joyfully. Dante wrapped his arms

around her and held her fiercely, determined to cherish and love her as no one else had ever done.

The countess was disappointed that Dante had dismissed them so

swiftly. She had hoped that he and Costanza would have more to talk

about. But he had mentioned Floriana, and from that moment on, an

air of distraction had blown him out of their reach. Her one consola-

tion was the sight of her daughter and Giovanna sitting by the foun-

tain, heads close together as they giggled and shared secrets.
That
was a friendship time would only make stronger. If her daughter didn’t manage to win the heart of Dante, she would win the heart of another like

him, for with Giovanna she would be sure to meet the very best society

had to offer.

The count looked at his watch and saw that it was past two o’clock,

time to gather his family together and go home. The countess was ready

to leave. She had talked to everyone she felt might be useful to her and made some important new friends.

Costanza was not ready to go. She had just been invited to dance

by a shy young man with thick brown hair and glasses, and had drunk

enough champagne to give herself the confidence to accept. Reluc-

tantly, she followed her parents to the front of the villa where their car waited on the gravel, the young chauffeur fast asleep in his seat. They weren’t the only ones leaving. Most of the adults were sweeping off in

their big, shiny motors, leaving the young to dance until sunrise.

Costanza stared out of the window, feeling strangely melancholic.

The night had been magical, and now it was over. She had never had

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such an enchanted evening in her life, and she was sorry that it had

come to an end. Dazzling in diamonds, she had felt beautiful for the

first time. Without Floriana at her side to eclipse her, she had found she had a light of her own and the confidence to shine. Giovanna had introduced her to all her friends, and she had felt part of the group and no less rich or glamorous; she had looked and felt every inch one of them.

Her mother was right. Floriana didn’t belong there, and Costanza

knew that if she was to secure the future her mother wished for her, she would have to let Floriana go.

The countess noticed Costanza had gone very quiet. “Did you enjoy

the party, darling?”

“I loved it, Mamma. I wish it hadn’t finished.”

“All good things come to an end,” said her father.

“And because of it good things will start. You’ll see,” added her

mother, determinedly.

“Do you think so?”

“Of course, my dear. I have taken all the important telephone num-

bers. I’ll make sure that you are invited to all the grand houses in Tuscany.”

“Out with the old, in with the new,” said the count, thinking of the