Still Falling (11 page)

“Are you okay?
 
Marco said you were outside and needed help.”

“I’m fine, Just tired.
 
I’m going to call for a taxi.
 
Please stay and enjoy the party.”

“You’ll be waiting hours for a taxi at this time of
night. Let me drive you.”

“No Tony, you stay here and enjoy yourself.
 
I’m giving you the rest of the night off.”

Tony looked oddly at Serena’s face.
 
“You’re looking a little green.
 
Go and sit down over there and I’ll get some
water.”

Serena was about to object when her stomach flipped
it’s self inside out.

“Actually Tony....... I don’t think I’m going to make
it......where’s the bathroom!”

They both crashed into the ladies bathroom at the same
time as Mavis was coming out.

“Well now, you’re not looking good!” Cluttered Mavis
like a mother hen.
 
“Off you go young
man.
 
The ladies
cloakroom is no place for you.” She said taking control of the situation in an
instant.

Marco did his rounds making sure the caterers were not
having any major disasters and the models were ready for the next session of
the evening.
 
He noticed Serena’s young
boyfriend sitting alone at the table looking very upset.
 
So she’s done the right thing and dumped the
boy then.
  
Turning to the bar to order a
drink he was approached by Arnold Richie.
 
They had met at the same function last year and Marco liked the old man.

“Mr Richie.
 
Glad
you could make it tonight.
 
Can I get you
something?”

“Well maybe you can young fella.” He drawled in his
very deep American accent that Marco had never been able to place.

“My better half is looking after a young slip of a girl
who appears to have come down with something.
 
I was wondering if you had a place for her to lie down for a
bit?
”

“I’m sure we can arrange something.
 
Should I call for a doctor?”

“Well it seems the young lady is insisting that that is
not necessary.”

“Where are they?”

“Well that’s the dilemma you see.
 
They are firmly entrenched in the ladies
cloakroom and my well meaning better half is guarding the place like Fort Knox.”
The old man smirked with obvious pride and adoration.

Grinning broadly at mental image, Marco lead the way
and the two strode off in the direction of the cloak rooms.
 

Marco stopped in front of Mavis and the two of them
sized each other up for a moment.
 
He
could tell she had been a beautiful woman once and that beauty had evolved into
a graceful elegance with age.
 
Her eyes
told him everything he needed to know about her strength and will.
 
He would not want to meet this woman at a
boardroom table unless they were on the same side.

“Mrs. Richie.
 
Your husband informs me that we have a patient in need of a bed.
 
May I be of assistance?”

“Your manners are commendable Mr. Spinozzi.
 
Shall we?”
 
She gestured him through the door.
 
Serena was crumpled on a chaise which had been pushed closer to the
sinks.
 
The stray wisps of hair were now
sticking damply to her pale skin and her eyes drooped heavily.
 
He crossed the expanse of the well equipped
ladies room in three large strides and knelt down in front of her.

“Serena.
 
You’ve
got to stop doing this to yourself.” He whispered too quietly for her to
hear.
 
He moved a strand of hair from her
cheek and tucked it behind her ear.
 
She
didn’t appear to have a temperature and at least she was conscious, but an
abortion was a very serious matter and he had heard such horror stories about
the procedure going wrong.

He wanted to call a doctor or take her to the hospital
and could tell she was in no condition to argue with him, but he didn’t recon
on Mavis ganging up on him.
 
As he pulled
out his phone to dial the number for his doctor, Mavis put her gloved hand over
his and sternly shook her head.
 

“There is no need for doctors Sir, just a bed for an
hour or so.”
 

Marco shook his head in frustration and briefly rested
his forehead on Serena’s bare shoulder.
 
Her skin was cool and damp.
 

“You are sure, Mrs Richie?”

“Yes dear.
 
She’ll be alright.
 
It will pass.”

He didn’t push her any further.
 
Instead he lifted Serena and carried her from
the ladies room, through the maze of corridors to his small apartments with
Mavis clucking in tow like an armed guard.

The apartments were small but lavish, decorated in
style of the Opera’s heyday.
 
Thick plush
carpets absorbed all sound of footsteps and dark wood panels contrasted with
the crisp white of the marble pillars and tables.
 
The ceilings were busy with intricate plaster
mouldings, thankfully not gilded in gold.
 
A large canopied bed filled much of the space and Marco lay Serena down
on the pillows.
 

“There are some towels in the Bathroom through there
Mrs. Richie, if you would be so kind.”

“Of course dear, I didn’t come all the way up here to
gawk”

He soothed a stray, damp, lock of hair off her forehead
as her eyes fluttered and she moaned softly.

“You’re okay.” He whispered.

She looked so small and broken lying in the large
bed.
 
He wanted...no
needed
to lash out at
the little
runt responsible for doing this.
 
Mavis
broke his reverie, handing him a damp towel and sat on the bed with him while
he wiped her face.
 
She watched him for a
while before speaking.

“Mr Spinozzi.
 
Does the young lady know?”

“Please call me Marco, Mrs Richie.
 
And what is the young lady supposed to know?”

“Don’t play coy with me Marco.
 
I’ve been around a long time.
 
My guess is you haven’t told her how much you
love her.”

“Mrs Richie, there isn’t much point if the feelings are
not mutual.”

“How can you be sure they aren’t if you don’t say
anything?”

“Mrs Richie.
 
I
mean no disrespect, but Serena has made it clear to me that I have no place in
her life.”

“Mavis.
 
You can call me Mavis.
 
And Marco.......things aren’t always as they
seem.
 
If you are basing your actions or
lack of action on assumptions, then make sure they are the right ones.
 
I can see that you have things under control
so I’ll leave you to it.
 
Good night.”

“Yes.
 
Good night
Mavis.
 
And thank you.”

He didn’t understand a word Mavis had been trying to
tell him.
 
His mother had often talked in
riddles like that.
 
He seldom understood
her either.
 
Woman!
 
They never just say what they mean.
 
He turned his attention to Serena.
 
She was asleep now and looking a little more
peaceful.
 
He phoned the bar down stairs
and asked for a waiter to pass on a message to Michelle.
 
She would be capable of handling the rest of
the evening and making his excuses.
 
He
needed to keep an eye on Serena.

Michelle was not the kind of person to keep her mouth
shut, but she had very personal reasons for not letting the reporters outside
in particular know that her date for the evening was with another woman
upstairs, no matter how innocent the situation appeared.
 
She couldn’t resist stirring a little with
Serena’s poor baby boy though.
 
What she
hadn’t expected was the cheeky grin she’d received in response to her slickly
delivered news about Serena’s whereabouts.
 
Something was up with this young man.
 
All was definitely not as it seemed.

Serena slept like the dead and woke feeling slightly
hung over.
 
Dehydration from throwing up,
she thought as she cradled her head.
 
She
slowly opened her eyes, not sure if she would be greeted by harsh lights.
 
The light in the room was muted, most of it
coming through an open door beyond the foot of the bed.
 
She recognised the room.
 
This was the Spinozzi, private rooms at the
Opera house.
 
She remembered coming up here
once when she had still been an apprentice at the Spinozzi label.
 
Marco would allow his own models to use it as
a dressing room when other designers were on site, to keep the exposure of his
designs to the other designers to a minimum before they were shown on the
catwalk.

She remembered Marco carrying her from the cloakroom,
but nothing much after that.
 
Her eyes
searched the room until they settled on his sleeping form on the sofa.
 
He had removed his jacket and bowtie and the
top three buttons of his shirt were open exposing his bronzed skin with a
smattering of soft curly hair.
 
His
sleeves were rolled up and his arms were stretched out along the back of the
leather covered sofa.
 
His long legs
stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankle.
 
Serena noticed the way the soft fabric of his
tux trousers, tightened over the top of his thighs showing the outline of
slender but well defined muscles.
 
Sitting up slowly, she quietly slipped back into her shoes and tiptoed
out the apartment.
 
In the dimmed lights
of the corridor, she could make out the dial of her watch.
 
Five thirty.
 
The first ferry to the island was in an hour.
 
Because there were no ferries between ten pm
and six thirty am and they didn’t have a private boat, Tony and Serena had
intended on staying at the Bistro over night.
 

Oh shit.
 
The Bistro.
 
Poor Tony
.
 

She hoped he hadn’t spent hours looking for her in a
panic.
 
She navigated the empty
passageways to the now very quiet lobby.
 
Although the inside lights were off, the light streaming through the
large arched windows provided enough light to read a book with.