This chapter took awhile to get up on here because I've been without internet access for the past week or so. Don't worry... I haven't lost inspiration. Enjoy the new chapter.

Disclaimer: Disclaimed.

Chapter 3

Two days left.

By this time I was almost feeling physically sick. I knew I was being silly... and that I had to be a grown up about this, for my father's sake if not for my own sanity. But I couldn't help feeling horribly worried that bad things were going to happen.

Feeling restless, I went out wandering into the city. I had gotten over the initial excitement of being in Rome after a week or two, and now the beautiful architecture, for all its magnificence, just wasn't as distractingly awe-inspiring as I needed it to be. Nevertheless, I went out, and spent an entire afternoon looking around the little local markets, where I kept being bombarded with offers from the dark-skinned Italians in charge of the stalls.

I envied them. They seemed none the worse for the scorching summer heat. Being used to the milder English weather, I had to make every attempt possible to keep cool. My hair, thick and long, was pinned up at the back of my head to keep it off my neck, and my clothes were light and airy. But I still found myself seeking the shade whenever possible, and I constantly had to fight off waves of dizziness brought on by the heat.

In the end, after buying nothing except some ripe, delicious-looking plums from one of the stalls, I decided to go back home. If Paula had gone out then maybe I could practice some more music. I quite felt like singing something lively to get this restlessness out of my system.

Putting my key in the door, I stepped inside into the luxuriously cool house. I let out a sigh of relief and rubbed the film of sweat that had collected at the base of my neck. Maybe I'd have a shower first to help cool down. From the atmosphere in the house I guessed Paula was gone, although there was no note on the front table. I shrugged and headed up the stairs, taking a plum out of the bag and sinking my teeth into the soft flesh. I let out a murmur of appreciation to the world in general as the sweet, succulent juices flowed over my tongue.

I took another bite as I opened the door to my bedroom, and nearly swallowed and choked on the stone inside.

"Good afternoon, ma chere."

He sitting there. Sitting in my chair, at my desk and gazing casually back at me as if it was his room and I was the intruder. The white mask was still in place, covering everything except for his mouth, the corner of which was pulled up in a smile that was almost mischievous. He leant back, his arms resting either side of him, and his legs crossed. He seemed very much at home, and I quaked at the thought of how long he might have been there and what exactly he might have been doing as he waited (I presumed) for my return.

"You seem a little surprised to see me."

Finally I got my voice back. "Is there any reason why I shouldn't be?"

The smile broadened a little. "I suppose this visit was a little unexpected," he conceded, swivelling the chair around a little so he could pick something up off my desk. He opened up the little dark-blue book and began to flick through it.

It took me a few seconds to register exactly what he was doing, and then I promptly crossed the room and snatched my diary out of his hands before retreating back to the opposite wall, close to the door in case a quick escape was necessary. He watched me quietly for a moment, then gave a careless shrug. He then picked up something else from the desk, but this time I didn't feel quite the same instinctive need to take it from him. It was actually the prospectus for the school I would be leaving for the day after tomorrow.

"This new school of yours seems an interesting place," he remarked, still casual as could be.

"Get out," I said, trying to make my voice as commanding as possible.

"Now why would I do that?"

I decided to bluff. Anything was worth a try at this point. "My step-mother's downstairs."

To my dismay, he only smiled and raised an admonitory finger at me. Then, with considerable smugness, he produced from his coat pocket a small slip of white paper and read: "'Christine... Have gone out with Joseph to see a friend. Will be back around 6:00. Paula.'"

I bit my lip on hearing this, but at least he didn't seem angry about the lie. He held out the piece of paper to me and, taking a few tentative steps forward, I plucked it from his long fingers, which were still covered by those black leather gloves. Reading the note, I recognised the handwriting and gave a resigned sigh.

"Alright. What do you want?" I asked, a little more rudely than was probably wise.

Another casual shrug. "I thought you might appreciate some company."

I had to fight the urge to scoff at that particular comment. If I wanted company of any kind it certainly wouldn't be his, after all. I gave him a sardonic look. "What do you really want?"

He returned the look with infuriating calm. "Well... Christine." He pronounced my name with such smug satisfaction I wanted to hit him. All that stopped me was an undertone in his voice that I couldn't place... as if there was more to his enjoyment of knowing my name. "I couldn't help noticing how restless you've been recently."

So he had been watching me then. Well... at least now I knew it wasn't just paranoia. "So?" I asked, hoping that this conversation wasn't going to go where I thought it was.

There was a slight pause as he gave me a long, steady look. "I wondered if you thought perhaps you might escape me by running back off to England."

I kept my face straight, but inwardly I winced. I would be lying if I said that I hadn't hoped to, as he said, 'escape' by going back to England, but it wasn't as if I had much choice in the matter anyway. And what was he going to do about it anyway?

"It's not like I asked for it," I said a little sulkily.

"Indeed." he said, his head tilting slightly in a display of curiosity. I didn't answer... just tried to return his stare as levelly as I could. For a minute or two we had a little competition of who would give way first and say something.

I lost.

"I have to go to boarding school," I said irritably. "I don't know enough Italian to go to school here and it's not like I can go back and forth from England every day."

"Clearly." He treated me to another long, analytical stare. "You certainly don't seem too thrilled by the idea."

"Duh."

The sarcastic and very immature sound came out of my mouth before I could stop it, and I saw instantly that I had angered him. The hand that had been turning the page of the booklet in his lap stiffened, and the one that rested on the arm of the chair clenched into a tight fist. Nervously, I hugged my diary tighter against my chest and waited to see what he would say or do next.

Mercifully, he seemed to establish control of himself and the tension in his body dissipated a little, although when he spoke his voice sounded a little colder.

"I hope you realise that this doesn't change anything."

I did. Well... sort of. Things would change a little. I might not be in any danger from him, being hundreds of miles away, but I would be stupid to think that there was no threat remaining. My family would still be here... very much within his reach. Putting them in danger would be unthinkable.

"Yes, I know."

He looked up at me again. I don't know if my acceptance of the situation had surprised him. If it had, he certainly did a good job of hiding it.

"You will not speak a word," he went on and I merely nodded dutifully in reply. The hopelessness of my situation... my utter impotence when it came to ensuring the safety of myself and most importantly my family, made me sick with anger and misery.

"It's good to see that you've decided to be sensible about this," he said, interrupting my despairing thoughts. His tone wasn't exactly condescending, but it still grated on my already ragged nerves.

"It's not like I have much choice," I remarked bitterly. For some reason, talking about my situation to this masked man brought out all my underlying resentment. It wasn't just about his threats... it was about how my life had been messed up for the benefit of other people. Not that I blamed my father for coming out here. I loved him... I wanted the best for him. But a tiny, selfish part of me hated what was happening to my life as a result.

There was a long silence, while I stared at the carpet and fought to keep myself from making an even bigger scene than the one we already had going on. I could feel him watching me, no doubt considering my angry resignation to what was happening. I knew I couldn't meet his gaze. If I did and I saw that calm, analytic look in his eyes, I knew I would start to break down.

The sound of him rising from the chair caught my attention and I glanced up briefly.

"Since you seem to charmingly accepting of the matter, I think I'd better be on my way."

I nodded, and once again averted my eyes from his as he approached. At first I began to tremble, thinking he had some intention... some new reminder of the threat he posed to me and my family. I felt my heart crashing against my ribs, until he swept past me and out of the door beside me.

Silence fell, and I was about to allow my body to sag in relief when something touched my arm. I jumped and turned to see that my unexpected visitor had reappeared in the door-frame, his masked face looking down at me from that lofty height. His gloved fingertips were barely touching the bare skin of my upper arm, and the sensation made me shiver involuntarily. I stared up at him. Now that he was so close I was able to take in the finer details of what little he allowed the world to see; hair so black it seemed unreal, a mouth that, I now realised, was slightly twisted and shrivelled... as if this man did not eat enough and eyes that were shadowed by the mask, but I now saw were an unusual yet beautiful blue-grey... like storm clouds hanging over mountains.

"Whatever worries you might have about what will happen," he said, in a voice so soft it was almost a whisper, "they are groundless. With a talent such as yours... you have nothing to fear."

It took a few minutes for his words to sink in. Was he actually reassuring me? Reassuring and complimenting me? I wasn't sure which I should be more surprised and confused by. This man had gone from threatening the safety of myself and my family to offering me encouragement and commending me on my 'talent'. All I could do was stare up at him, my mouth slightly open in bewilderment before replying with the only response that I could think of.

"Thank you."

With the barest trace of a nod, he disappeared from the door, his fingertips leaving a strange tingling sensation behind as they lost contact with my arm. Another shiver coursed through my body, bringing me back to reality a little. I realised that I had tears in my eyes and quickly drove my knuckles against the closed lids to prevent them from falling. Taking a few deep, ragged breaths I bent down and retrieved my bag of plums from the floor, as well as the half-eaten one that had dropped from my hand in those first few moments of shock.

When everything was picked up and I had returned my diary to its proper place, I leant against my desk, staring own at the music sheets and cassettes that lay on the surface.

For some reason, I no longer felt like singing.

"Stop fidgeting, Christine... you're making me nervous!"

"Sorry."

Well, I couldn't argue with that. I was being extremely jittery. But you couldn't really blame me for that. We were in the car, heading for the airport and I felt like my head was going to explode, there were so many conflicting thoughts inside it.

The last twenty-four hours had been a nightmare of panicking and last minute checking of all my luggage. I still wasn't sure I'd got everything I would need... not sure I was ready to go... but here I was, about to get on a plane to a completely different part of my life, one that I was expected to confront almost entirely by myself. I knew that the only contact I would have with my family would be weekly phone calls. I would be coming home for the half-term holiday, but even with that brief period of time, I still wouldn't see my father, Paula or little Joseph for about two months. It was the longest time I had ever been away from them, and it wasn't as if I could go home for a weekend if things got rough.

That was a scary thought... knowing that I would basically have to handle this whole thing by myself.

We finally pulled into the airport and pulled my two bags out of the trunk. I checked in, got my boarding pass, and headed for the customs desk. Just outside I stopped, since the others couldn't come any further.

"You know what gate your heading for?" my father asked.

"Yep."

"Your passport ready?"

"Yes."

"Got phone numbers in case there's a problem?"

"Dad."

He smiled at me. "Just want to make sure."

"Yes... but you're not helping my nerves."

Another smile, and then I stepped forward and put my arms tightly around him. He gave me a big, long squeeze, stroking the back of my head reassuringly. A lump rose in my throat as I thought of how long it would before I saw him again, or gave him a hug. Finally I pulled back, giving him a final kiss on the cheek. Then I gave Paula a peck on the cheek too, smiling and feeling the sting in the corners of my eyes.

Paula and I got on well, not having the usual relationship of step mother and daughter, where she went out of her way to ingratiate herself towards me and I simply hated her guts. I admit to being sceptical of her at first, but after seeing the positive effect she had on my father, I had accepted her, and later Joseph, into my life. I understood how my father needed someone to love him in the way Paula did, and I was too delighted by the prospect of having a little brother to feel in any way usurped by Joseph's presence. I looked down at my baby brother and smiled. "Bye bye you little monster," I said, tickling his chest until he gave me a gorgeous little smile.

Then I stepped away from the three of them, adjusting the strap on my backpack and forcing a brave smile on my face. Then I turned and headed for the customs desk, clutching my passport in my pale, sweaty hands. I made it through without any fuss and turned to wave a final goodbye to the little gathering of people. My father waved... Paula waved, and then took Joseph's hand and waved it for him.

I smiled and then took a step in the direction of the departure gate when something caught my eye. It was only a brief flicker of movement, beyond the picture-perfect family standing together. A shape, disappearing as a crowd of people walked past. I took a few steps, and then looked again. But the person, whoever it might have been, was no longer there.

I shook my head and began walking quickly away.

It couldn't possibly have been...