When the Siren Calls (31 page)

“But they said they were owed money?”

Eamon was forthright, and given to indignation by her doubt. “That is not the case, and unfortunately, they have only themselves to blame. I did manage to rent the apartment to some, shall we say, less discerning visitors. But Rosie, bless her, was unhappy that they were not people of the church like themselves. I’m afraid Rosie and Geoff seem to believe they are nailed to the cross which they carry on their shoulders, but lovely people all the same. They insisted I move the rental couple out, even though the wife was invalided, as I recall. To be truthful, I half expected Rosie to demand I call in a priest to perform an exorcism. I tried to explain that it was not going to work if Rosie insisted on dictating who I could and could not allow to use the apartment. I even referred her to the rental agreement, but she was adamant that God came before profit. Something about the good lord throwing the moneychangers out of the temple. So, sad as I am to say it, she effectively cancelled our agreement. I know I should have charged her for the rental furniture package, and I would have lost my job if Andy Skinner had found out, but I just didn’t have the heart.”

Isobel was reassured by the account, though she thought with an almost fond smile it was rather likely he had embellished it somewhat. She thought to tell Eamon about the meeting the Barkers were planning, and might have done had he not risen to take his leave, anxious, it seemed, to get back to his good works and the cause of humanity. Isobel raised the glass to her lips as he left, in a silent toast to her new life.

She did not want to return to the pool in the scorching sun, or suffer the inquisitive glances of those around it, so decided to stroll through the shade of the olive grove, and from there onto the vineyard which so captivated her on her first visit. As she approached she could hear the ringing of bells from the church outside the entrance to Castello di Capadelli, and a horse and buggy was drawn up beside the vineyard. A couple were posing for posterity at the arched trellis of flowers that led into the vineyard, and she stopped to watch the photo shoot, stroking the horse as she did so. It was an idyllic setting, with so many of the elements she had often pictured in her own dreams of romance, and she imagined herself as the woman in the white dress, radiant in her happiness.

She passed by the young couple with a furtive wave and entered the vineyard, seeking out the comfort of the sun-warmed bench to be alone with her thoughts. A gardener, stooped from age and toil, in corduroy breeches too heavy for the heat was tending the vines, his back bent to his labours. He rose from his work as he heard Isobel approach, and smiled kindly at her, his face as reddish brown as the earth beneath his boots. Isobel sat and watched him, his back still supple despite his years, the sinews on his arms suggesting the strength of his prime. She marvelled at the care with which this simple man of the land went about his work, a cutting tool in one hand, a vine in the other, the calloused hands so tender in their touch. Tears rose within her as she thought about her marriage, and its emptiness. The labourer looked up from his work and saw her distress, and went over to her.

“You must not be sad to see an old man toil,” he said, touching her arm and looking into her eyes with the warmth that she remembered in her own father’s gaze. He stroked the vine with the back of his hand. “My work is my pleasure and I rise to it every day thankful that I can do so. For one day the sun will rise, but I will not.” He gave an ironic laugh, and took her hand gently in his palms, and she rose from the bench. “Let us walk the vineyard and it will reveal its treasure.” He held onto her hand as they walked between the rows, she a step behind because it was too narrow to walk comfortably beside him. He stopped and held a cane, offering it to her, and she held it, stiff and naked in her hand, as his words soothed her. “Every vine is different,” he said, “but each must receive the same care if it is to flourish. The vine is like a young woman, it must be cherished, and then it will grow tall and strong, and the fruit will be plentiful. The vine will give back only what is put in, and if it is given everything it needs, it can give untold pleasure.”

The old man’s soft voice and his love for his vineyard had taken Isobel’s thoughts away from her own sadness, and she smiled up at him, squeezed his hand, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. And she saw he was pleased at her happiness. “If you ever feel hurt in your heart you must come here to the vineyard, and the vines will soak up your sadness, I promise you, and your presence too will cheer me.”

Isobel felt reinvigorated as she raced back to the Villa Magda, remembering that Peter was due to phone. She ran up the stone steps two at a time to the sumptuous suite that Gina had reserved, which was cool and inviting in the afternoon heat.

Peter called and she lied to him without shame, wishing the call to end, but desperately trying to disguise it. She sat listlessly on the bed, letting him talk but willing him to finish, until three gentle knocks on the door interrupted the dullness of his voice. Thinking it must be Gina, she readied herself to interrupt him.

“Someone’s at the door, darling,” she said, but he kept speaking regardless, telling her how murderously hot it was in Dallas, and similarly uninteresting trivia. But it was Jay at the door, wearing an apron and a maid’s cap, and she had to stop herself laughing as she pulled him inside, silently mouthing “Peter” and pointing to the phone, and putting her finger to her lips.

“Just the housekeeper,” she said, looking menacingly at Jay, “here to turn down the bed.”

She sat back on the cushions and continued listening to Peter, but Jay knelt at the foot of the bed and took off her bathroom slippers, grinning up at her as he began to suck her toes, each one in turn, and to tickle the soles of her feet until she silently writhed before him. She kicked him playfully away, gratifying Peter with yes’s and no’s.

But Jay stood up and took her ankles, and dragged her body towards him until her sarong rode up to her waist. He reached for the wine cooler and took some ice cubes. She shook her head frantically, laughing mutely with anticipation, as he began slowly sliding them up her thighs. She tried to bat him away with a pillow, but Peter kept demanding her attention and ruining her aim. Jay deftly slipped the ice inside her panties and pressed the coldness into her with his chin, holding her gaze as she grabbed the vase beside her and lifted it as if to strike him, but it only encouraged him. He pulled her panties to her ankles and took an ice cube between his teeth, trying to work it inside her with his tongue as she attempted to thrash her legs. But he held her ankles in his strong hands and she had to submit to the invasion, mouthing, “Just you wait” as he laughed silently and started to lick her. Soon she stopped struggling and just lay there while Peter was talking until eventually she could stand it no longer and told him Maria was trying to get through and that she would call him back later. She felt quivers run through her as the phone fell from her hand and she buried her head in the pillow, fearing she would call his name as her excitement washed over her, and not wanting him to know how completely she was his.

It was past midnight when the taxi dropped them at the back entrance to Castello di Capadelli. It was a moonless night and the blackness was entrancing with its infinite possibilities. They did not need to concern themselves with night security; Andy had stopped it to save money, but they kept up their subterfuge in necessity and excitement. They were both pleasantly lightheaded from their dinner together, the romance and the wine hung around them in the night air. Jay fumbled for the master key to open the forbidding padlock that held the two heavy wrought iron gates together. He sent her ahead, saying that he would follow her, but as she crept obediently forth a thought struck her, and she seized his hand, pulling him after her away from the main buildings. He tripped along after her and she capered along swinging his hand in hers and gently humming over the cicadas. She led him towards the vineyard and she stopped in the darkness before it, at the trellised archway where earlier the bridal couple had stood. And she pulled him under the archway like it was mistletoe and kissed him passionately, and he held her waist securely, so she kicked her heels up behind her, delighting in the feeling of him holding her, as her arms locked behind his neck.

As the clock ticked on and only stillness and darkness surrounded them he took her by the hand to lead her back. She followed him starry-eyed up the stone steps to the upper pool, which glowed with ethereal blueness in the black. He kissed her slowly by the light of the pool, looking into her eyes with such intensity that for a second she thought he was going to say that he loved her.

“This is the perfect time for a midnight swim,” he said, his voice low and enticing.

“It’s long gone midnight,” she said, teasing him, before kissing him again.

“Come on, let’s do it,” he said, already undoing the buttons of her blouse.

“But what if someone comes?” she whispered.

“No one has any reason to come up here this time of night, and they’d risk breaking an ankle on that decking if they did.”

“Let me go and get a costume,” she asked, although she didn’t mean to, as she was caught in the grip of modesty and fear.

“It will spoil the moment,” he said, slipping off her blouse, “and what’s the point of swimming at midnight if we’re not naked? Come on, let’s live young and free for once!” And he took the decision away from her by pulling off his underwear. Isobel tore at her own clothes to catch up with him until he took her by the hand, putting his finger to his lips and slipping into the water as smoothly as an otter. She stole after him, sliding into the water as her nakedness shone blue in the darkness. They swam soundlessly back and forth and she loved the water against her skin, the feeling of exhilaration at her own body; she felt light, almost fluid, utterly without care. He swam ahead and stood in the shallows, calling her to him with his eyes, and she swam up to him, cutting gracefully through the water, and kissed his chest. He kissed her nipples in return and she wondered for a second if he would take her in the water, but he pressed his lips to hers and led her up the steps, drying her tenderly as he savoured her body. She wrapped herself in the towel and Jay led her back to their clothes, forlornly strewn by the water’s edge. He scooped up his trousers and looked out over the hills where the faintest of sunrises seemed to threaten, even though it was not yet two.

“We’d better go inside,” he said.

She pulled him to her and let the towel fall from her and put her mouth to his ear and said, “You can go inside here if you want to.”

He looked into her eyes but said nothing, so she took his towel and stooped to lay it out next to the pool, falling into its softness and sprawling out like a starfish. He looked down at her and threw away his trousers, dropping to his knees beside her. And she could feel the thrill of him even before his hands were upon her.Thirty-six

Isobel sat, upright and bored, in the back of the plush limousine, patiently waiting for her husband’s call to finish, her thoughts miles away. The countryside was vanishing behind them with worrying speed; Peter was on his way to the airport and Isobel was anxious to discuss the situation in Tuscany before he left. Eamon had called her earlier to confirm that the Visconti suite was now theirs — they had only to sign the papers and hand over the rest of the money.

“Everything ok?” she asked as Peter tucked his phone away, his brow furrowed and mouth taut.

He shrugged. “They are planning to announce a reorganisation on Monday. They said it would be simpler if I didn’t come in to the office when I get back from Dallas. I was expecting it really. It just saves everyone embarrassment.”

Isobel touched his arm; it was the end of an era, but he was bearing it well. She looked at him, admiring his stoicism and his strength in adversity. “You don’t need them,” she said with genuine empathy, and in the comforting knowledge that after ten years at the top, her husband did indeed not need them, except perhaps for his ego. But she could not dwell, she needed to move on to matters closer to her heart than Peter’s business problems, which she now lived with every day. She was still smarting that it had not been Jay that called with the good news about the apartments.

“Sorry to raise it now, but before you get on the flight, I need a decision. Eamon is waiting for a call back. If we are going ahead, he wants me to go to a solicitor this week and sign the papers.”

Peter knotted his fingers into his hair. “Well, the Visconti suite we are agreed on. So what do we want to do with the second apartment?”

“That’s up to you, darling. It’s just an investment after all, moving money from one place to another.”

“If I remember,” said Peter, “the deal on both works out at over a thirty percent reduction on the cheaper one. So let’s buy both. It’s a better return than we’re getting from the bank.”

Isobel smiled to herself at the thought of how pleased Jay would be, a second holiday home a small price to please her lover.

“Well, ok, if you think that’s right,” she said, trying to sound as indifferent as Peter. “I will call Eamon later and let him know.”

She sank back into the leather in satisfaction, appearing appeased but still not finished with her efforts.

“By the way, that thing that Jay Brooke asked you to look at…” she said, filling her voice with false hesitance.

“The prospectus?”

“Yes, did you have a look at it?”

“A brief one. The phrase too good to be true comes to mind. And you know I have my reservations about our friend Brooke and his integrity.” Isobel flinched in indignation and worry but let him continue. “But it’s too good to ignore as well. So I’ve got some people running the rule over it.”