Beyond The Island Read online

  Joanne couldn’t deny her disappointment. It would have been wonderful to stay on here for a few days rather than go to her hotel and have to deal with Renzo. It rankled that Renzo had caused her such trouble over her luggage and she intended to mention it – but when? Not here this evening when he arrived in this welcoming home.

  With a change of heart, Joanne decided that was now all in the past. Why should she complain when she was enjoying amazing hospitality and the chance of a free sailing holiday?

  ***

  Later that day in her guest room something came to Joanne’s mind. In Naples she’d been too exhausted to dwell on it but now she knew for certain she’d packed her toilet bag in this black case. So how had it found its way into the blue one? She frowned, unable to find the answer. Even if baggage handlers were not trustworthy, surely they wouldn’t open two cheap cases in the hope of finding anything valuable?

  Joanne thrust the riddle away and began to rifle through her clothes to decide what to wear for dinner. Her thoughts warmed with the memory of the pleasant morning she’d spent exploring the large garden with Nico and Francesca, whilst Cecilia watched them from a hammock swung between trees. The little girl clearly enjoyed the novelty of everyone’s attention. Even Nico ran to do tasks at her bidding.

  What gorgeous kids Joanne mused; and such a happy family.

  After a light alfresco lunch, Angelina had persuaded her to relax on a garden recliner and Joanne got stuck into a P.D. James thriller she’d found in her room, and afterwards had fun playing a game of cricket with Nico and Francesco while little Cecilia sat propped up with cushions and kept score.

  The children had been taken reluctantly off to bed and Joanne now held several items of clothing against her slim frame and examined their effect in the mirror.

  Earlier she’d gone in search of Angelina. ‘No, there’s nothing for you to do,’ Angelina insisted at Joanne’s offer to help. ‘Costanza takes care of housekeeping and helps with the children and I employ a daily woman to do the chores. You must make the most of your holiday.’

  There was no mention of Angelina’s husband. Joanne had taken a long, luxurious bath scented with Jo Malone Bath oil, placed for her use. She sighed, recalling how she’d longed to treat her mother to a little luxury like this.

  The evening was warm, so she selected an off the shoulder cotton dress in subtle shades of coral and pink, surprised to see she’d already gained a slight tan. She leaned forward, gratified how this served to enhance her grey eyes. She licked a finger and flicked a frond of hair behind an ear and a smile played at her mouth. She’d never felt this good in Rome.

  Strange, but she was finding it hard to recall Renzo’s features, just an overall impression of power beneath his suave persona. A shadow drifted over her mind. Did she regret her agreement to sail with Renzo Balzarin? Yet had she not, she’d never have met his delightful cousins nor stayed in this villa.

  Her mood lightened, reassured that with Fabio here he’d take the pressure off any lapses in conversation. Joanne gave a start. Why was she thinking along these lines?

  She descended the stairs and saw Angelina waiting for her, svelte in a slim white skirt and a loose khaki top, which confirmed the natural knack for colour and design that seemed natural as breathing to Italians.

  ‘Fabio asked me to apologise for him not saying farewell. He left a while ago. I expect he’s busy on another commission.’ Angelina clearly didn’t find it necessary to enlarge.

  A throb of disappointment slowed Joanne’s pulse and she caught the little sigh which escaped Angelina’s lips. Why hadn’t Fabio waited until his cousin Renzo arrived? She tried to banish her own disappointment as Angelina suggested,

  ‘Let’s take a glass of wine out onto the terrace, shall we? Constanza will look after the dinner and it’s good to relax before the meal.’

  The two women sat for a few moments without speaking, the silence broken only by the chirp of noisy cicadas and the soft rustle of a breeze on the terrace. Joanne listened to the sound of waves hissing down below, all the while conscious that she owed it to Angelina to fully explain her acquaintance with Renzo. She’d been welcomed like a good friend and given hospitality without any question and yet she was a stranger. Angelina hadn’t been shy about revealing a number of things regarding their own family.

  ‘Being here with you and your delightful children,’ Joanne began, ‘is the most wonderful thing for me. It makes me realize what...’ she hesitated.

  Angelina must have sensed Joanne was about to speak more about herself, for she remained quiet and merely smiled encouragingly. When Joanne remained silent, she added, ‘You can always talk to me, you know. May I say that I’m delighted to have you here? I hope you will consider me your friend?’ She leaned towards Joanne and kissed her on her cheek. Her sigh was audible and she gazed away for a moment before speaking. ‘There are many things here in Italy that doesn’t bear scrutiny yet on the other hand, families are close and would be supportive when a young person is in trouble, even a young pregnant daughter such as your own mother...’

  Her words were interrupted as the sound of a male voice reached them from the house.

  ‘Now, we’d better make small talk, eh?’ Angelina said briskly and raised her eyebrows. ‘Sounds like Renzo has arrived to join us.’

  ***

  Renzo arrived, laden with gifts of gourmet delicacies and masses of flamboyant flowers. The scent of lilies and peonies wafted about and vied with the tantalising smells from the oven which drifted to them outside.

  Greeting his cousin, Renzo waited until Angelina disappeared back to the kitchen and then turned to Joanne. ‘Joanne, my dear friend, how are you?’ His voice registered concern. ‘I telephoned your hotel in Naples late that night to enquire if you had arrived and was devastated to learn about your unhappy experience. Your luggage should have been delivered straight to the hotel, as I requested.’ He frowned and placed a hand on her shoulder, his expression contrite. ‘Please accept my apology. This should not have happened. I’ve notified the Railway authorities and their negligence will be on record.’

  His words went some way to restore her faith in him. ‘Actually, it was a worry – but it turned out to be quite an adventure!’ She grinned. ‘Remember how I spouted on about getting under the skin of a place? I saw a bit of the Naples back streets on a walk to the railway station depot that night. I had to go in person to hand over the luggage ticket and the hotel produced this odd little old man to take me there. He turned out to be quite a character!’

  Renzo frowned, ‘That’s generous of you. Can’t say you’ve had an ideal experience – the back streets can be dangerous at night. I’m surprised you didn’t take a taxi.’ His eyes narrowed and then his face relaxed. ‘You are amazing, Joanne,’ his mood changed and he beamed with apparent admiration. ‘I’ll have to make a few more mishaps come your way, shan’t I?’

  Did she detect a rebuke in Renzo’s remark? Stop being touchy, she chided. Questions she harboured about him still hovered; she hadn’t forgotten how sharp he’d been to his cousin Fabio on that phone call in Rome.

  With a feeling of relief that Renzo would have work to attend during her holiday, a sense of optimism lifted Joanne’s spirits. Despite her gratitude for sailing she had no wish for his company every single day. Renzo appeared considerate for her wellbeing but after a short acquaintance she realized that she’d have preferred Fabio’s easy going company.

  She watched Angelina arrange flowers in a tall silver bowl, inlaid with blue glass, and exotic aromas hung on the evening air.

  ‘How was your business in Rome, Renzo?’ Angelina enquired.

  Renzo shrugged. ‘Usual game,’ he said, his nose wrinkling with a grimace, ‘seeking out a competitor’s position. Often they’re fallible – just takes patience to discover their weakest points.’

  A tiny chill edged down Joanne’s back as she held back a wry comment. But Angelina merely gave her cousin a friendly pat on the arm and said, ‘You
men! Never happier than when you’re winning a battle.’

  Angelina’s cook had prepared a delicious dinner of tender lamb with bunches of baby leeks in her honour – ‘An English dish, I think,’ Angelina said with a girlish laugh and once again Joanne felt privileged by her generosity.

  All through dinner, Joanne was aware of Renzo’s suave manner as he entertained them with amusing stories. Yet, she detected tension beneath his affable air. These tales seemed polished, as if practised for they lacked the quirky repartee Fabio had offered which prompted her participation. Joanne was tempted to stall Renzo with questions since he dominated the conversation but held her tongue lest she regret it. She was glad the steam from porcelain dishes hid her flushed cheeks for she must have drunk too many glasses of the Montepulciano wine he’d brought.

  After dinner they carried tiny cups of coffee out to the edge of the terrace. Insects swirled about the ancient iron lamps which cast the three of them in pools of soft light. The sight fetched the memory of going to the railway depot with Alfredo where flying insects swarmed in the glare of arc light and she wished the old dwarf well.

  Renzo didn’t join them sitting at the table. He stood and drank his coffee quickly as if anxious to get away. Momentarily, his features were caught in a flicker of yellow lamp light and Joanne gave a start as he gave what seemed to be a meaningful look at Angelina which vanished in an instant, so she told herself it was a trick of the light. Had she also imagined Angelina frown with a slight shake of her head as if refusing to respond to his message?

  Keyed up by the sudden change of her circumstances, Joanne sensed an undercurrent between the cousins. Well, she told herself, it was not her business; these are private family matters.

  The breeze picked up with the salty tang of the sea. She listened to the steady swish of waves breaking on the shore below and it served to focus her mind. Renzo Balzarin was hard to read compared to the open friendliness of his two cousins. Without Angelina’s obvious affection for Renzo, would she decline his offer to crew? And then a scene ambushed Joanne’s mind; she pictured a yacht, its sails taut in the wind as it whipped over the blue sea and excitement rippled in. Come what may she longed for this chance to sail and any doubts in her mind were cast off.

  Her thoughts fractured as Renzo suddenly spoke, his tone a little sharp.

  ‘Will you excuse me dashing away, Angelina? I have urgent business that needs attention. I must get back to the yacht.’

  There it was again, the sudden change of mood. Feeling she’d overstayed her welcome and unwilling to stretch Angelina’s hospitality Joanne got to her feet. ‘I’ll go up and get my things. I’m packed. Will you drop me off at my hotel please Renzo?’

  In a short time she was back and ready to leave. ‘Thank you so much Angelina for your wonderful hospitality. I’ve enjoyed being here with you and the children; I can’t thank you enough.’ She returned her new friend’s kisses lightly on her cheeks.

  ‘You are welcome here any time, Joanne. It’s been a pleasure, my dear. And thank you for your help with Cecilia; it was so reassuring. Do come and visit soon, you promise?’ Angelina gazed steadily into Joanne’s eyes as she took her hands.

  It was almost as if she was pleading, but Joanne let the thought vanish. ‘I shan’t be able to keep away! I just don’t want to become the nuisance guest.’

  Angeline threw back her head and laughed rather loudly. ‘Then I’ll have to send the children to fetch you with a big stick!’

  Renzo waited stiffly and then quickly kissed Angelina and patted her shoulder in a gesture that to Joanne looked like praise for something well done. Again, she sensed the slight frown that briefly creased Angelina’s forehead but dismissed this as imagination. All too soon they all bid one another goodnight. The taxi was waiting.

  ‘Ischia Ponte please. Hermitage hotel,’ Renzo instructed. He turned to Joanne, ‘I usually like to make an early start but must tackle work tomorrow morning – I’ll be on the yacht until mid-day.’

  He clearly assumed she would arrange her plans to fit in with his. As doubts swept in once again her mind clouded. So this was the start of her holiday.

  Chapter 4

  A crescendo of noise jerked Joanne awake as all the church bells in the town tumbled over one another in an avalanche of chimes. Her body tensed with anticipation for what might lie ahead. For a few moments she was content to lie still and listen to the bells, until the strident noise shook her wide awake and the urge not to waste a precious moment had her leaping out of bed. A moment’s sadness came with the idea to find a church and send up prayers to her mother. How thrilled her mother would have been to know how Joanne’s life had changed.

  Her bedroom oozed comfort and style. Stepping over the thick carpet, she opened the French windows and stood on the balcony. Arbours burdened with roses almost concealed wooden seats amongst the lush botanic gardens verging onto dense Pine forest. It was pointless being annoyed at finding she’d been allocated this luxuriant room rather than the small simple room she’d booked. Renzo must have added a considerable sum of money to her own in order to upgrade her. And then she’d decided this had been Renzo’s way to make up for the trouble with her luggage.

  She leaned over the rail and gazed down, delighted to see a glimpse of sea beyond tall conifers.

  ‘We’ll need to get up early when we start sailing, so why don’t you take it easy tomorrow morning?’ Renzo had suggested as the taxi dropped her off at her hotel. He repeated, ‘I shall be busy working on the yacht so I’ll come ashore early in the afternoon, meet you at the hotel and take you out in the dinghy to see my yacht.’

  It was a statement which broached no argument. Joanne had always balked at being organised but reminded herself how lucky she was. The cost of a sailing holiday would be prohibitive on her salary. She frowned; her wish to be free sometimes to explore the Island on her own must be made clear to him in the nicest possible way. After all, she’d booked this holiday here before they’d met.

  So, it seemed her first morning was free to go as she wished. Joanne took a shower and shampooed her hair, making use of the expensive toiletries. Feeling relaxed and pampered, she dressed in a well cut cotton skirt with a long sleeved top and hurried down to the dining room. After a continental breakfast, she returned to her room and soon, casting a silk scarf about her shoulders, had picked up her sun hat and satchel and was ready to go. It would be just a short walk downhill to the old town.

  Her lungs filled with crisp air as she stepped outside the hotel. At 8.30 am the sun had yet to burn off the early morning mist which shrouded the surroundings in a veil of mystery. Joanne smiled and exchanged greetings with people she guessed were on their way to church.

  She followed family groups beneath the pine trees which lined the avenue down to the harbour and the old part of town, admiring the stylish villas on either side with their recently watered gardens displaying subtropical plants and mysterious looking statues, half obscured amidst trees. ‘It’s heavenly,’ she murmured to herself and soon arrived amongst small ancient houses, tight packed along narrow streets which led to a wide open square.

  Instantly she was immersed in noisy Italian life. Youths on scooters dodged the crowds, revving their engines and screeching to a halt to greet friends. The market was in full swing and bustled with people who bantered as they selected fresh produce. Joanne soaked up the atmosphere; strings of onions and garlic, cheeses, salami, all kinds of vegetables and fruit, enough to last through a siege. The array of colours dazzled her sight; tomatoes, aubergine, courgettes and bunches of herbs all powered the air. Joanne caught the waft of strong tobacco and saw elderly men in their best dark suits sitting on benches to enjoy a smoke and banter before attending church. On the far side of the square where the stalls petered out, she saw people entering the church tucked between old buildings. She decided to follow them up the stone steps and entered through a massive thick door and was transported into the hushed sacred atmosphere. Wafts of incense coiled in
her throat as she slipped into a pew at the back of the church and knelt to pray. The priest’s monotone words echoed about the chilled interior. Unwilling to stay through the service she slipped outside ahead of the congregation.

  The vibrant red cherries that tempted her earlier drew her to the stall holder and she spent a few moments conversing with him in Italian. She took a bite of the succulent fruit - and nearly swallowed a stone as her sight registered Renzo standing by the church door. He must have been inside all the while!

  She ducked behind a stall and confirmed it really was him. Renzo, tall and distinguished his dark suit fluid on his figure stood arms folded on the church steps in conversation with the priest. It was then she noticed another man, Renzo’s companion hovering behind him in shadow. Each shook the priest’s hand as they left together. She stared after the two men in their dark suits as they strode past the market stalls and disappeared in the direction of the harbour.

  Joanne reflected that although she knew little about Renzo Balzarin she’d never imagined him religious. A silly idea, she realized. In Italy, religion formed a part of everyday life. It puzzled her that he had twice said that he’d be working on his yacht all morning. She was convinced he’d made a particular point of it – repeating it when she’d arrived at her hotel last night, but reasoned he must have been contacted by someone when he returned to his yacht so his plans had changed. Nevertheless, it seemed out of character for him to manhandle his rubber dinghy ashore wearing a suit for she’d gleaned he was fastidious about his appearance. Puzzled, she tried to make sense of it and deep in thought slowly made her way back to the hotel. It was mere chance she’d spotted him here. On the other hand - hadn’t Renzo Balzarin urged her, in fact all but ordered her to remain at her hotel this morning and relax?

  ‘Make the most of a rest in the hotel gardens before we set sail. The Hermitage grounds are beautiful!’

  Stop seeking riddles where none exist, Joanne chided. What this man did in his private life was none of her business. Nevertheless her senses were sharpened when later she waited for Renzo to arrive in the hotel lounge. She had no intention of revealing her sight of him that morning and wondered if he’d refer to his change of plan.