Beyond The Island Page 12

  Renzo pushed back his chair, stood and bestowed a beaming smile upon her. ‘I’ll be waiting in the lounge. I trust you won’t mind dining alone tonight, carina?’ Taking her approval for granted he added, ‘I have urgent office work to deal with on the yacht tonight.’

  Joanne returned his smile in full measure. She had no wish to dine with him tonight.

  ***

  Joanne dialled Angelina’s number and willed her to pick up the call. With relief she heard the familiar response.

  ‘Pronto? Oh Joanne how lovely to hear from you. Measles? No the doctor confirmed it’s just a nasty heat rash; Francesca’s fine, just a slight temperature. Thank you for asking though; the child should know to cover up in the mid-day sun. Children can be so forgetful.’

  ‘That is good news. I must have misunderstood Renzo.’

  ‘Was Renzo anxious?’ Not waiting for a reply she went on, ‘he’s always been over protective of me. I think he still regards me as the little one of us three cousins – now that’s a joke, eh?’ Angelina laughter trilled down the line.

  ‘So perhaps we could fix another date?’

  ‘I’d love that Joanne. If Renzo pleads he’s too busy we can still meet on our own can’t we?’

  Joanne returned to the dining room to find Renzo waiting to leave. Although she was empty handed, Renzo seemed to have forgotten the note. He excused himself and soon left to return to his yacht. She’d planned to say she wouldn’t be free to sail the next day but the opportunity had been missed.

  After she’d eaten, Joanne sat down in the lounge and ordered a coffee. It was one thing to have Renzo’s company whilst sailing but another to have him frequently dining with her. It seemed beyond reason that he hadn’t local friends to meet.

  Her arched eyebrows drew together as she determined not to allow him to pay the hotel bills. With time to think, the puzzle refused to go away, why had Renzo invited her to crew. Was it logical to employ an inexperienced stranger? Did he lack trust in the locals? Her thoughts turned to Fabio but any hope of gaining an answer from him seemed remote. It would be impertinent to sound her doubts about his cousin. Besides, what could Fabio know?

  With a sudden urge for exercise, Joanne hoped a brisk walk in the night air would ease her mind. ‘Thank you, Silvio,’ she smiled at a waiter who pulled back her chair.

  Stepping out through the wide French doors, Joanne stood mesmerised. The hotel gardens were now bathed in the eerie light of the moon. She stepped over the manicured lawns; her lengthened shadow her only company. Paying no heed to direction, she let her feet move at will as uncertainties continued to stir her thoughts.

  What had Renzo to gain from her? Her upgraded room would have incurred expense and then there were all the meals he signed for. Her forehead puckered. Surely one of those stylish young women on holiday in Porto d’Ischia would suit him better? A few might be eager to sail. It would be normal for most sailors to relish the chance to show off their skills and be content for a female to lounge and admire them. Besides, coming from a well-known local family he must have contacts in the sailing world and yet she was not aware of any friends.

  It crossed her mind to wonder if those pertinent questions put to the guide at the Winery had been reported back to him? Joanne stopped to enjoy the silence broken only by the restless sound of the sea. She realized that normally, if cautious she would have made an excuse to leave, packed her bags and left. A frisson of pleasure ran down her spine – not now she’d met Fabio and Angelina. The sailing was fantastic and Renzo’s tuition not to be lightly discarded.

  After all, he presented no danger.

  A smile twitched her mouth. Perhaps that shadowy icy church had affected her and she could have imagined Renzo’s furtiveness. Hardly noticing, she’d walked beyond the confines of the hotel and onto no man’s land. She felt a sense of adventure and followed an overgrown path which led steeply downhill. It narrowed through spiky agaves, palm trees and cacti and soon she found herself enclosed amongst gloomy plants and tall trees.

  She halted, listening as branches creaked in the sudden breeze while the tang of alien plants mingled with salty air in her lungs. It might be dangerous to go down further and slip into the sea. Her mind stirred with dark fantasies and the familiar sound of sea swishing to and fro over shingles fetched her back to reality.

  When her sight adjusted to the dark, she saw a stone seat tucked amongst rocks and myrtle bushes. Tall pine trees, black as treacle framed the sea view and she glimpsed the pearly crests of waves in the wavering light. She caught the sound of a boat being hauled onto shingle. Someone down below must be securing a boat on a spit of shore. Joanne dismissed the image and fixed it in her mind, for it conveyed all the allure of Ischia.

  And then beyond the dense screen of trees to her left the sound of voices slowly impinged. Instinct bade her remain silent.

  ‘You Balzarin’s no longer hold power. Get someone else to...’ the rest of the words disappeared on the wind.

  ‘But I’ve already taken steps…’

  Renzo! And he sounded conciliatory as if in debt to this other man. Joanne’s pulse quickened. Whatever was Renzo doing here? Hadn’t he left in a hurry to go to his yacht? Why ever meet someone here in this isolated spot? Time ticked by as Joanne waited, her body chilled from sitting on the stone. Several minutes passed before she heard the drum of feet as footsteps hurried up a track and caught the beam of a torch as the other man disappeared over the edge of the cliff. She guessed there were steps down to the shore.

  She waited, straining her ears and then the sound of a boat being launched excited her attention. The throb of an engine and she listened as the noise increased, aware the boat must have been there to the take the other man on board.

  The engine sound faded and in the moments that followed Joanne remained too bewildered to move while the wind rustling leaves and the tang of pine filled her lungs. Soon there was only the hiss of waves.

  Thankful not be detected, Joanne’s curiosity was spiked and pushing aside brambles, slipping on damp undergrowth she emerged into a grassy clearing. This must be where that argument had taken place. There was an edgy feel to the place and it felt like the scene of a brutal crime. Joanne stiffened, ready to bolt back up the track just as the moon emerged from clouds and tried to convince herself that Renzo might have been intercepted by someone on his way to the harbour and persuaded to come to this deserted place.

  Joanne shivered. It seemed unlikely. But why hadn’t that boat sailed around into the harbour? Why land in this isolated spot. Despite reasoning the episode was none of her business she couldn’t quell her curiosity.

  Her heart did a loop at a loud snapping sound close by. Shadows merged below the trees as the moon disappeared behind clouds and swallowed her in a prison of darkness. But it was just branches swaying in the wind. She stared about, totally disorientated. Which way to go?

  Stumbling in her heeled sandals she felt desperate to reach the open lawns. Razor sharp leaves snagged her bare arms; wet branches flicked her face. Then without warning, her heart split as her feet tripped and she pitched face down into a ditch.

  All she could hear were frantic heart beats echoing in her ears. Seconds seemed like hours as clutching wet soil Joanne forced herself up on her elbows, blinked through her wet fringe of hair and straining to see about. A wall of earth met her gaze. In a panic, she struggled to rise but succeeded in slipping further down.

  The dark clouds should have been a warning. At first the rain fell gently, a soft patter on leaves but soon it fell in sheets to drench her light clothes right through to her skin. Joanne pitted all her strength, dug her heels into the solid earth and slowly dragged her body up over the edge of the ditch.

  All the while her mind remained sharp on alert. What if Renzo lurked nearby but she heard only the stir of wind in undergrowth. Everything was silent in the shadowy gloom. She was alone. For a moment she stood still and cursed herself for taking fright. The next problem was to get back to her r
oom without being seen. She was lost in a kind of wilderness beyond the tended gardens and had no idea which way to go. Only one thing for it – trust her instinct and press uphill. After thrusting her way through dense undergrowth she found herself near a wooden fence which divided this wild place from the gardens. This was a safety measure, she realized but how she’d managed to avoid it before was unclear.

  At least she hadn’t veered in the wrong direction and dropped over the cliff so the hurdle of a fence would not deter her now. Determinedly she lifted one leg high over the fence, pressed both hands on the top of the wood and using all her strength eased her body up and tumbled over to land with a thump the other side.

  The moon chose that instant to slide from clouds and Joanne’s saw glints of light from the hotel visible through the trees. Glancing down at her clothes, she saw they were plastered with greenish slime as if dipped in a swamp, even as she began to accept the episode as another adventure she had no wish to offend the hotel’s propriety.

  Removing her sandals she gripped them and crept towards the glowing lights. Drawing close, she held her breath but heard only the noise of late revellers coming from the bar. Cautiously she stepped over the threshold and walked behind the furniture ready to duck if anyone came in. But at this late hour only the regulars were in the bar. Soon Joanne was scurrying up the stairs, propelled by the image of Renzo waiting to grab her in the shadows.

  ‘Buonosera, Signorina.’

  Joanne heart jumped to her throat. She pressed herself against her door, fumbled with the key but dropped it on the carpet. But it was just the night porter doing his rounds.

  ‘Buonosera Signor,’ she squeaked thankful for the gloomy corridor. The key turned and in a daze of relief she tumbled inside her room, locked the door and waited for her heart beats to slow. Only then did she see a note which the porter must have slipped under her door.

  Her pulse jigged erratically as she recognised Fabio’s handwriting. Was he telepathic? A sudden almost painful longing came for his comforting presence as she ripped it open and scanned the contents. But as his words grew horribly clear her fury at Renzo spilled over. How dare Renzo put this thought into Fabio’s head!

  “Dear Joanne, I was very disappointed when Renzo cancelled the dinner arrangement, informing me you were occupied with other engagements. I don’t believe I’ve misread our feelings of friendship and so found this hard to believe. For some time I’ve suspected Renzo is not himself and I tried to think his mind was confused with business problems when he told me this? Please set my mind at rest. I’ll be at Gianni’s coffee house not far from your hotel at 10.30 am tomorrow. I hope you will come and still allow me to accompany you shopping? Ciao, Fabio.”

  Joanne stripped off her sodden clothes and thrust them into a polythene bag. Too ingrained with dirt to launder, she’d have to dispose them in a rubbish bin.

  She stood naked under the shower and tried to calm her anger before stepping out onto the bath mat. She dried herself briskly and slipped into night clothes.

  It occurred she could send Fabio a text but decided it would be easier to tell him when they met that Renzo was clearly mistaken. It wouldn’t do to denigrate his cousin.

  Suddenly in need of a stiff drink, she opened the fridge door and removed a mini bottle of brandy, poured it into a tumbler and then drank it neat before slowly reading Fabio’s note again. But why had Renzo lied about her to his cousin? He’d threatened to undermine her friendship with Fabio – but why?

  All the suspicion she’d harboured about Renzo tumbled about her head. He’d now faked his niece’s illness as deceit about his plans.

  Joanne gazed into the mirror and gave a start. A bruise coloured one side of her face, an ugly mottled colour turning yellow! There was also a long scratch on her neck.

  In a panic, she couldn’t think how to explain it.

  Chapter 9

  Following a restless night, Joanne studied her reflection the following morning in the bedroom mirror. A long sleeved shirt was fine but ingenuity was necessary to cover the bruise – which would be sure to draw a comment from Renzo if he turned up at breakfast time.

  Rifling through the bathroom cabinet, she came across a bottle of calamine she’d thought to pack and dabbed her forehead. While it hid the bruise, it left a white patch. Taking up a bronze blusher she stroked the brush over it and hey presto – all was concealed. Nevertheless, she wore her floppy brimmed sunhat and prayed that Renzo would not arrive before she finished a quick breakfast.

  Picking up her bag, she was almost clear of the dining room when Renzo’s tall figure appeared. There was no escape without cutting him dead. Should she face him with what he’d told Fabio? He came to greet her with a wide smile and spoke chirpily,

  ‘Good Morning, Joanne! How are you today?’

  ‘I’m fine, thanks,’ she replied coolly. ‘Have you had breakfast?’ Annoyed she found his arm on the small of her back propelling her firmly back to a table. He drew out a chair and eased himself down opposite her and stretched with a lazy gesture. ‘Yes, I have, thank you. I sat on deck very early this morning to enjoy my brioche and coffee.’

  ‘Ah, this sea air restores one’s appetite! ’ he remarked, inclining his head to another guest. ‘Another coffee and maybe a little pastry would go down well. How about you, Joanne? Have you slept well?’

  Joanne’s fury at his complacency made it difficult to respond. ‘Yes thanks. I’ve had breakfast,’ she declared. ‘I was on my way to my room when...’

  ‘Oh, but you can’t be in such a great hurry,’ Renzo said smoothly. ‘Come, spare me a few moment of your company, won’t you?’

  ‘Did you get through all that work last night on the yacht?’ She emphasised the words but he paid no heed.

  ‘You’ll have another coffee?’ Scarcely allowing time for a response he said, ‘Excellent!’ and turned to the waiter with their order.

  Joanne decided there was nothing to gain by making snide comments. She took the chance to scrutinise him. Renzo didn’t look pale from lack of sleep, nor worry – the reverse in fact. As usual she found him hard to assess. He brought to mind the intricate workings of a perfectly calibrated clock, concealed behind its smooth face. How could she accuse him of lying to Fabio without revealing Fabio had written to her?

  A picture of Fabio’s carefree approach to dressing brightened her thoughts as she noted Renzo’s immaculate turnout; a spotless navy sweat shirt and smart jeans. Was his reference to feeling rested and eating an early breakfast on deck significant? He had the way of covering his tracks. Her mind reeled as she tried to guess what went on in his head.

  Above all, Joanne was desperate to meet Fabio. Without revealing anything she must tell Renzo she couldn’t go sailing today.

  Renzo suddenly turned to her and his words took her off guard. ‘I’m a little concerned you may have things to do Joanne, shopping maybe or getting some beauty treatment – isn’t that what young ladies do?’ he drawled. ‘I’ve maybe monopolised your time here.’

  It was as if he’d read her mind. Startled she said, ‘You haven’t at all, Renzo! I enjoy every minute sailing but there are a few things I’d like to do today. There’ll be lots more times to sail, won’t there?

  ‘Of course. I too have a few things to attend to today.’

  ‘There is a little shopping I’d like to do today; maybe I’ll get my hair done.’ She smoothed a hand over her dark hair and realised it could do with a trim and so felt no compunction for the white lie. Perhaps, she puzzled, Renzo really did find her a good companion for sailing. A brief concern he had ulterior motives flew in but this seemed ridiculous and she cast away suspicious. All her thoughts now centred on leaving the hotel as soon as possible.

  A glance at her watch showed it was 8.30am; time to visit a hairdresser and justify her claim before she met Fabio. His image brought a warm flush to Joanne’s face so she lowered her head and focussed on spooning apricot conserve onto the croissant Renzo ordered for her.


  Renzo assumed she was concerned at letting him down. ‘Please don’t fret Joanne. In fact, you’ve relieved my conscience. However, after today I intend to make sailing our first priority.’

  Renzo’s broad smile wrapped about her. She’d better make good use of her time away from him today then.

  He picked up the jug of coffee and raised his eyebrows. ‘Another cup? A client is due to visit today. He’ll place a big order for a shipment and I must conduct him to the Winery in person.’ Renzo reached over and placed his strong hand over hers. ‘So you’ll be happy, sua contenta to occupy yourself for a while today?’

  ‘No coffee, thank you Renzo. Yes, fine, I’ve some plans for today.’ Joanne kept her voice plain and restrained annoyance at his overbearing manner. She bent down as if to pick up her napkin aware this was becoming a habit but Renzo appeared at ease as he munched his chocolate tart and gazed with a benign expression around the busy room.

  It crossed her mind that his client could be the person he’d met down by the cliff last night. She drained her coffee and placed the cup carefully on the saucer and decided to buy Renzo a little gift, a small token for his generosity – this would help to salve her conscience for telling half-truths. Renzo’s expression was devoid of expression and she beamed a smile at him. ‘I’m really keen to learn all I can about sailing.’

  ‘It’s my pleasure, dear Joanne.’ Renzo stood as she made to leave, inclined his head before a mark on his sleeve drew his attention. ‘There’ll be plenty more opportunities to sail,’ he affirmed.

  Joanne’s last sight of him was as he dabbed at the mark with his napkin. It seemed he’d not noticed anything untoward about her behaviour.

  ***

  Joanne left the hotel in a happy frame of mind. Renzo had insisted – as if he’d granted permission that she take as long as she wished to shop.

  She arrived at Gianni’s café a little early and strolled past, stopping now and again to admire shop window displays. These could only be Italian she mused; their talent comes effortlessly. A creation of brilliant silk cushions tossed over a sofa caught her eye. She glanced down at her cream linen trousers and patterned navy top reassured how stylish they looked. As for the ruined clothes from yesterday, she would find items for sale in the less affluent part of the city to replace them. All that was needed was a good eye for a bargain.