Lucy Gordon - The Wedding Arrangement

Mentally he set that down on his plan of campaign. It could be very useful.

Even if he hadn’t known where the Residenza was Luke would have spotted the party from a great distance. The courtyard was glowing, lights were on all over the building and more light poured out into the street.

He was reminded of the Villa Rinucci in Naples, his home for many years now, ever since Hope, his adoptive mother, had married Toni Rinucci. It stood high on a hill, and at night its lamps could be seen for miles inland and out to sea.

He had always loved the place. Even after he’d moved out to his own apartment in Naples, he’d looked up the hill at night before going to bed, and the sight had warmed his heart.

There was a wide gulf between the luxurious villa and this down-at-heel tenement, and it was disconcerting to have the same feeling here as he found at home.

It was the lights, he told himself reasonably. Light always created the illusion of warmth and friendliness, and he wasn’t going to start being sentimental about it.

But there was also the laughter and the sound of welcoming voices, and these, too, spoke of home, so that when he entered the Residenza he was smiling.

Behind him came the taxi driver, puffing under the weight of Luke’s contribution to the party. When Netta called down to him from an upstairs window he indicated the cases of beer and wine. Cheers broke out above and the stairs shook under the pounding of feet. Several young men burst out into the courtyard, scooped up the cases and Luke with them. In moments he was upstairs, being embraced by Netta, who screamed joyfully in his ear, making him wince.

He’d met all the family briefly that morning, but now he met them again. Alessandro, Benito, Gasparo-all Charlie’s brothers-plus Netta’s brother Matteo, his wife Angelina and their five children. Netta’s husband Tomaso slapped him on the back, hailing him as a saviour, and various other uncles and aunts clamoured for his attention, until he thought the little apartment would burst at the seams.

He couldn’t see Minnie but in the crowded room it was hard to be sure, so he looked again, and then again. But there was no sign of her. He found himself curious to know how she would dress for this party.

Charlie bounded up to him, offering a drink.

‘Thanks, but I’m sticking to orange juice,’ he said. ‘I’m not taking any risks tonight.’

‘Go on, have a beer.’

‘Don’t press him, Charlie,’ said a female voice. ‘He doesn’t want to end up burdened with you again.’

It was her. How long had she been standing there? When had she come in?

She was dressed with a flamboyance that surprised him. He’d never pictured her in trousers, but there they were, dark purple, fitting snugly over her hips, topped off with a silk blouse of extravagant pink. The effect was stunning.

Her fair hair was drawn back off her face, emphasising her delicate bone structure and fair skin, and she might have been a different person from the austere advocate of the morning.

‘Thanks for coming to save me,’ he said.

She laughed directly into his face. At five foot four inches she had to look up to him, but she still gave an impression of looking him in the eye, he realised.

‘I reckon two doses of Charlie in one day is more than the strongest man should be asked to bear,’ she said. ‘Let me get you an orange juice.’

She fetched it, then had to turn to look after another guest. He watched her, unwillingly impressed by her neat, shapely figure. It was hard to reconcile this flaming creature with the woman Charlie had described, who’d died with her husband. There was something there he couldn’t work out, something mysterious and intriguing.

The room was filling up as more guests arrived. Some of them gave him curious looks, and he guessed the news of his identity had gone around. He became lost in a maze of introductions. Every girl there wanted to flirt with him, and when someone put on some music there was dancing.

In such a small place it seemed impossible that anyone could dance, but they managed it. Luke plunged in with every sign of enjoyment, although he was actually growing tired after so long without sleep. But not for the world would he pass up the chance to win over his tenants, thus making them easier to deal with and, incidentally, giving himself the great pleasure of making Signora Minerva nervous.

At last he had a free moment just as Minnie was passing.

‘You can’t just go like that,’ he said, grasping her hand. ‘You and I have to dance with each other.’

‘Have to?’

‘Of course. When two countries are at war it’s customary to mark a truce by having the two heads of state dance together.’

‘I believe that only happens when the war’s actually over.’

‘Then we’ll set a precedent,’ he said, putting an arm about her waist.

Minnie might have demurred longer, but someone collided with her, pushing her closer to him.

‘Very well,’ she said. ‘Just for the look of the thing.’

‘You’re all graciousness.’

Glancing up, she found him regarding her with a look that was half irony and half an invitation to share the joke. Drat him, she thought, for having a kind of fierce attractiveness that could get under her guard, even if just for a moment.

‘How are you feeling now?’ she asked.

‘More human. A lot poorer.’

‘You wait until you see my bill. That really will make you feel poor.’

‘And Charlie’s,’ he reminded her.

‘You don’t think I’d charge Charlie, do you? He’s my brother-in-law.’

He shook his head in despair for her.

‘Why did you tell me that? You should have charged me over the odds for him and put the money into a fund for repairs.’

‘Yes, I don’t make much of a schemer, do I?’ she agreed ruefully.

‘You prefer to confront the foe full-on, rather than plot behind his back. Brave but foolhardy.’

‘Plotting isn’t my style. Besides, I’ve slain a good few foes in my time.’

‘Is that a threat or a challenge?’

‘Work it out.’

Minnie wished the room were a little less crowded so that she wasn’t crushed so hard against his body. She’d seen that every woman in the place admired him, and there was something in that consciousness that infiltrated her own, so that she could understand their feelings, while assuring herself that she was safe from sharing them.

But she would have felt safer still if she could have danced a few inches away. The room was hotter than she’d realised, and it was getting harder to breathe.

As soon as she could she excused herself. ‘I must go and help Netta. Enjoy the party.’

He nodded and let her go. He was beginning to be very conscious that he’d spent the previous night in a police cell, wide awake.

He’d meant to catch up on his sleep at the hotel that afternoon, but he’d become involved in business phone calls and in the end there had only been time for a cold shower. Now he knew it hadn’t been enough. His eyes insisted on closing, no matter how hard he fought to keep them open.

At last, taking advantage of the crowd, he slipped out of the door and found himself by the railing that over-looked the courtyard. Too public. Where could he find a little privacy?

He discovered a small corridor that went through the building, connecting the staircase to the outer apartments that overlooked the road. It was deserted and he sank down to the ground, thankful for a place where a man could rest his head in peace.

He’d return to the party soon, but, just for a few minutes, he would close his eyes…a few minutes…a few…

AFTER handing round more drinks, Minnie went into the kitchen to help Netta make coffee.

‘You looked good together,’ her mother-in-law observed.

‘Just doing my duty,’ Minnie said. ‘It was purely formal.’

‘How can you be formal with him? He is a man.’

‘So are a lot of other people here,’ Minnie observed, trying not to understand Netta’s meaning.

‘No, they are not men, like he is,’ Netta insisted. ‘Boys, feeble creatures who look like men but don’t measure up. He is a man. He can bring you back to life. Why were you so careless as to let him leave?’

‘Has he left?’

‘Can you see him anywhere? He’s slipped out with a woman, and they’ve found a quiet place to do things that-’

‘Yes, I can imagine what they’re doing.’ Minnie stopped her hastily. ‘I suppose he has every right to please himself.’

‘He should be pleasing himself with you,’ Netta said stubbornly. ‘And you should be pleasing yourself with him.’

‘Netta, I only met him today.’

‘Huh! I only knew Tomaso one day before I had his clothes off. Oh, it was glorious! Of course he was useless at everything else but I got pregnant and we had to marry.’

‘That sounds like an argument for staying a virgin.’

‘Who wants to be dried up and withered?’ Netta demanded.

Soon afterwards Minnie took the chance to slip away. Her nerves were jangling in an unfamiliar rhythm and she badly needed to calm them.

Taking up a bottle of mineral water, she went out of the front door, rejoicing in the cool night air. She took a long gulp of the water and felt better, then she began to drift down the stairs.

Perhaps Netta’s right, she thought, and I am dried up and withered. But I wasn’t always…

There had been a time when she and Gianni had seemed to exist for passion alone, a time when every night had been a scorching delight, every dawn a revelation, when life’s chief good had been the shape of Gianni’s body, the hot spicy scent of him.

But that time had ended. She’d told herself that his death had brought all desire to an end, and she was content to have it so. She was used to Netta’s attempts to talk her into a different mood, and she’d always laughed them off. Suddenly, mysteriously, she couldn’t do it any more.