Chapter 9
Sitting at the terrace of his big and comfortable apartment that overlooked the courtyard of the Venetian Arsenal, general Guerini was ending, without any rush, his breakfast. He was on a happy mood. His wife and their two last children had left the day before to visit the maternal family, and he was delighted with those two weeks alone that were presenting to him. Whatever stripes he wore, his authority unfortunately used to stop rubbing off as soon as he crossed the doorstep of his home in which was in charge, with firm hand, the one who formerly had been so tender and so nice, his beloved wife. When he had met her, twenty years before, he had thought nothing about her sour temper, her hysterical crisis at each contrariety, so much he had been dazzled by her beauty: her long jet-black hair which cascaded down along her back, her big dark eyes which had pierced his heart, her red-lipped like cherry mouth that smiled to him. But now with time, her waist had become heavier as much as her bad temper, her lovely sketches had left place to grinning rictus, which brought him to regret that the Big War was over and that he could not to go back to the front. He had fiercely fought there, but he had at least peace!
Savouring that moment of quietude, he was sipping his cup of coffee, humming pleasantly. It was a beautiful morning of July, the schedule of the day was promising to be quiet, and with a bit of luck, he would may be slip away for a few hours to go fishing in a little cove that few people knew, on the other side of the lagoon. He screwed up his eyes with satisfaction at the prospect of this and swallowed his last coffee limp. He was putting his cup back on the saucer when an officer came to inform him that some Count Contarini wanted to see him and that he was hanging around in front of the Porta Magna (1) of the building.
- That man has long enough kept company to the lions (2) ! Hurry up and bring him here! He's a friend of mine ! - Said the general, pushing back his chair as he stood up.
He had not seen him for years. They had met during poker games, which recalled him some biting defeats he had inflicted on him. The count was an excellent fellow gamer... from the moment he did not lose, which led sometimes to memorable arguments between the players. With time and the occupations of each one, those night-time meetings had become less frequent and they finally had lost touch with each other. The general was then very curious to know the reason of that unexpected visit, but he had not the time to ask him the question because his visitor, as coming into the apartment, cried out when seeing him :
Alfonso ! I need your help!
(1) The gate of the Venetian Arsenal, represents the access to the pedestrian road to the military-industrial complex of the arsenal.
(2) The lions of the Arsenal are statues from ancient Greece, brought back during war spoils of the XVIIth century, and that are located on both side of the gate.
Albert looked at his alarm clock and could not believe his eyes. 2 o'clock in the morning! Who was waking him up at that time then ?
- I'm sorry, sir – did his butler, very embarrassed – But that man insisted to have you receiving that information personally.
- Have him wait, Oscar. I'm going down immediately. ! - Said Albert, irritated, as he went and wore a night-gown. What was so urgent to get him out of bed in the middle of the night then?
His surprise was all the more bigger as he realized that it was a soldier who was waiting for him in front of the entrance of his house. That latter took off his Navy Cap and saluted Albert.
- Officer Wilson Smith from the Naval Station Great Lake, sir. Please, forgive that intrusion but I've been ordered to tell you about an urgent message from Italy...
- From Italy? - Asked Albert as he looked at the piece of paper the soldier was handing to him. It was a telegram.
"To Mr William Albert Andrew,
Wedding rumours about Miss Candice White Andrew and Mister Capwell. On honeymoon to Venice. Please, confirm. Reporter from the NY Post investigating.
Terrence Grandchester informed and disappeared since then.
Count Contarini, via the Venetian Arsenal, Italy"
Under the influence of emotion, Albert's hand began to shake. He looked at the officer with a bulging gaze melted with incredulity. That latter said to him:
- My mission is to help you to answer...
With this, he led him to the courtyard, protected from the darkness by a row of streetlamps displayed all around. With his head, he discretely showed him a small truck parked behind him, whose half-opened rear doors let perceive a soldier equipped with headphones, sitting in front of a telegraph.
- I... I don't understand! - Mumbled Albert – Why the army, then?
- Because, the person who is looking for contacting you has obviously some excellent relations and does not want to lose time. Through our transmission network, we can exchange telegrams across the ocean in a few hours while it could take days through the civil network.
- In that case – Answered Albert, recovering his mind. His voice indicated his anger that he had difficulties to control – You are going to tell that gentleman that this is just a vast TRICK!
The radio operator was already clicking on his little machine that answered with little metallic noises. Albert followed, firmly.
- You'll add that my daughter is indeed on vacation in Venice with her girlfriend, Miss Patricia O'Brien ! Tell him also to do everything possible to find back Mr Grandchester ! Otherwise, I'm going to call my assistant and will leave you with him because I've a very important matter to settle.
- I beg your pardon? Where are you going? - Moaned the officer noticing that his mission was taking an unexpected aspect.
Albert had already set a foot on the doorsteps, and half turning around, letting guess his perfect profile, he exclaimed with a bitter tone suffused with irony.
- To meet some reporter of the New York Post !...
Half an hour later, Albert was settling in his sports car, a little French wonder, a 35 horsepower single-seater Panhard & Levasson. He was not dissatisfied with his purchase which he had, at the time, considered as an impulse but which was very useful now. With a top speed of 220 km/h, he hoped to arrive in New York before the end of the day. He turned on the engine and listened to it throbbing wildly under its hood. He let out a scream of admiration before the vigour of the mechanic and pressed several times on the accelerator. In a few seconds, the garage became enveloped with a puff of ill-smelling gas. Then, he adjusted his safety goggles and noisily disappeared in the dark alley. The road would be long but he would have time to think about the treatment he wanted to inflict to that gossips-maker hidden behind his Press card, and also to his informer… He was not dupe and could not ignore that this ignominious act was holding the signature of a devious mind that he knew only too well: his dear niece, Eliza… The time had come for purgatory and she was going to feel its torments!
Given over to the excitation of his thoughts, his pressed an enraged and determined foot on the accelerator, crossing at full speed the still-sleeping quarters of the town.
- I might arrive in New-York sooner than planned, he thought, as he enjoyed the speeding up.
In the morning, the postman delivered between George's hands, Candy's telegram from Verona…
The train arrived in Verona's station in the middle of the morning. The whole theatre company got off on the platform, heckling. It was mainly composed with young comedians, who, by their impetuosity linked to the freshness of their age, were easily agitated. This used to make their manager very nervous, who could become furious very quickly, but they did not mind, so used they were to his emotional outbursts. They enjoyed sometimes to provoke them, giggling of his reactions. It had turned into a game to which he liked to participate too, without any naivety. They were his kids and he was very attached to them. Most of them used to be young disillusioned persons before, to whom he had taught that another life was possible, a thrilling life that would intoxicate your soul: the theatre's one. Each time a new member entered the troupe, it was for him a huge emotion to observe the transformation in him: that transition from disillusion to enchantment, from weariness to enthusiasm, that changed his sad face into sun. It was his reward, an irreplaceable richness, the one to share the same passion for what would turn them into beings of light for a couple of hours…
He admitted that Terry was of that moral fibre. However, he regretted that years had been unable to sweep away these shadows that lived in him, the ones he had already detected when he had met him at the Stratford Company and which were still pursuing him. He wondered about the origin of that inner suffering, which used to leave his friend lost in his thoughts, isolated from the surrounding world. He suspected the cause of it for having himself endured the violence of that devastating assault that would plunge you into a deep affliction and that would eat into your heart like an inner leprosy. It was called love… And a deep feeling of powerlessness invaded him…
- All right, Miss O'Brien, how do you feel today?
Patty smiled without looking up immediately, recognizing without any difficulty that voice which was, day after day, becoming more familiar. She liked the way he pronounced her name, that warbled in his throat like a tender melody.
- Please, doctor, call me Patricia – she said, becoming bolder but still turning red.
- Pa-tri-cia… - he whispered, insisting on each syllable – In those conditions, I would be pleased if you called me Alessandro…
He sat down on the edge of the bed, his head slightly leaning on the side. The eloquent way he looked at her made her thrill. He liked the way she had to lose her control each time he contemplated her, and also the energy she consequently deployed to recover some countenance. The fragility and force that emerged from her piqued his curiosity.
Hidden fire under the ice… - he thought, as he tried to capture what she had in mind. She looked down.
- A… Alessandro… - she mumbled with burning cheeks, trying in vain to dissimulate her trouble – In response to your former question, I can tell you that I am very fine.
- I'm so pleased. But tell me, did you sleep well?
- Yes I did, thank you.
- Tired?
She shook her head negatively.
- Good! I think we can try to walk, then. It will help you to recover your forces.
Before her dubitative gaze, he followed, with a reassuring voice.
- Don't worry, Patricia, I'll be close to you…
He pulled out the sheet that covered her legs, and she thanked heaven for having changed of nightgown after her morning wash. However, she would have preferred to wear a pretty dress before that man who was making her heart beat so fast as soon as he looked at her. She pivoted towards the edge of the bed and set a foot on the floor, then a second one. He held his hand out to her and she firmly clanged to it, feeling unsecure. She began to walk, slightly bending, because of the stitches. But it was bearable. In any case, as soon as the handsome Italian was in the room, she was losing her control, even until forgetting her name. Few stiches were not going to distract her from her most secret thoughts…
- Well done, Patricia… - he said as she moved forward with short steps in the bedroom – You're getting along swimmingly!
Patty emitted a sigh of relief and followed her pace with more insurance. But suddenly, her still weak legs tottered and she toppled into the doctor's arms who retained her in her fall.
- Everything is fine, Patricia? – He asked, a veil of anxiety in the voice.
She nodded, her face having, in the momentum, hit the hollow of his chest. She could hear the regular beatings of his heart, feel the movements of his serene breath against her cheek. He smelled deliciously of the eau de toilette, an irresistible flavor of musk… My Goodness!
When she stepped back, scarlet and trembling, she noticed him observing her with a malicious smile.
- Are you sure about that? – He asked, shooting to her a cajoling gaze, which achieved her definitively. And as she remained paralyzed before him, mouth opened, he took her hand between his and said:
- Patricia, how about…
But Candy's sudden irruption in the room interrupted him abruptly.
- What's going on here? – She exclaimed, horrified, as she discovered her friend between the doctor's arms. Under the effect of surprise, she had let fall the pack of letters she had brought back from the club to distract her.
My God! Here we are! Casanova has moved onto the offensive!
- Alessandro… Well, doctor Biazini was making me walk… - answered Patty as she moved away from him, red with confusion.
- She's doing very well! And she's recovering very fast! – He added, like nothing happened.
I can see it…
He looked down, trying to avoid Candy's suspicious gaze who had hastened to see her friend to her bed. An heavy silence was prevailing in the room. Feeling more and more uncomfortable, he ended up exclaiming, making casually snap his arms against his thighs:
- Well… I have to leave you, my ladies. Other patients are waiting for me…
Yeah, sure! Run away!
- I'll come back tonight, miss O'Brien, as usual…
- See you tonight, doctor – answered Patty with an inaudible voice, while, out of the corner of her eye, looking at him leaving.
Before the equivocal behavior of her friend, Candy rolled her eyes with a sigh of consternation.
- I'm coming back – she said to her, raising a finger towards her that wanted to say she had not done yet with her, and she went to the hall, looking for the transalpine heartbreaker. Obviously, he was not there anymore, and it took her time to find him, in a patient's room, at the other side of the hall. When seeing her in front of the door, he simulated the surprise and asked:
- Miss Andrew? Everything is all right with miss O'Brien?
- This is what I wanted to ask you! – she did, sharply – Would you have a moment, please?
- I'm sorry, but as you can see, I'm visiting my patients. I don't have time to…
- I can wait.
- I'll be a while.
Before his lack of conviction, she retorted to him, fulminating:
- I don't mind to talk about that case here, if you prefer. We'll both save time!...
As an answer, He did two sidesteps towards her and grumbled at her ear, looking infuriated.
- Ok, ok! Let me finish with that patient and I'll meet you in my office.
- Don't make me wait too long, doctor Biazini…
The doctor turned around, pretending to not hear and came back to his patient. Candy, as agreed, came and sat in he office of that latter and began to wait. Five minutes, then ten elapsed… There was no doctor Biazini! It was only a quarter of an hour later that he showed off, with a determined step and an obvious intent to fight back. Candy stood up to face him.
- Here I am, miss Andrew! – He did as he carefully closed the door behind him – What is so important that you have to come and bother me while I'm working?
- You know the reason why, doctor! – Answered candy, firmly – This is about my friend, miss O'Brien…
He gave an ironic pout that irritated even more the beautiful young American.
- Don't act innocent! You are trying to seduce my friend and you should be ashamed of your behavior!
- Ashamed?
- Yes, ashamed! I don't know how things work in your country, but in mine, this is strictly forbidden! She is your patient and you are her doctor. You are taking advantage of her weakness!
- Of her weakness? Fancy that!
- Exactly! Miss O'Brien is just getting out from a very painful experience. She's still very fragile and I don't want that…
- What don't you want?
- I don't want you to break her heart, that's all!
- This is then the opinion you are having about me, miss Andrew. The one of a seducer without any qualm! ...
- Indeed, doctor! – She answered, insisting on his title to recall him the delicate situation into which he was.
- Can you give me any reason for being so severely judged by you?
- Reasons? You want reasons? You, her doctor, who offers her flowers, who looks at her languorously, who visits her more often than usual, while I am finding her today in your arms! Isn't it enough to have me suspicious about your intentions?
He observed her for a while, as if he was thinking, then answered with certain arrogance.
- In short, if I were not her doctor, you would not mind at all…
- This… This is not as simple as you think – mumbled Candy, discountenanced – You've been knowing each other for three days only. I think it's a bit hasty…
- I don't think that offering flowers to her has harmed her virtue…
- Maybe not, but you're playing with her feelings!
- When listening to you, you seem saying that she does not deserve the feelings I could have for her…
- This is not what I meant! I…
- Quite the opposite, and that time, you are the one, miss Andrew, who should be ashamed of thinking that about your friend. "Your single good friend, always so available!". Isn't it reassuring?
- I won't let you! This is insulting!
- Insulting? Who for? For you or for her? I can see well what is bothering you. You are afraid to lose her, to lose her for an unknown person, a doctor, rather good-looking, who would have the boldness to be concerned for her. You are afraid to stay all alone and be pointed out as the last single one! Do you have by the way an explanation to that mystery? How come such a pretty girl is not married yet?...
Candy's eyes widened with stupor. She looked down to avoid the searching gaze of her interlocutor and mumbled:
- This is none of your business!
- Have you ever been in love at least?
Oh God, yes, I have! And each time I paid a high price for it!...
- Your silence let me guess that it remains a painful topic to mention for you… May be you love someone who does not, or may be he's already married…
As an answer, she shook her head negatively.
- Well, your situation looks rather complex and you are the only judge of that. But, for me, concerning miss O'Brien, let me tell you that I will not let anyone dictate my behavior because it is a gentleman's one, even if you have doubts about it.
Candy crossed her arms with an ironic pout. He followed, frowning his brows with irritation:
- Have you ever been to the front, miss Andrew? There is nothing worse than war to make you understand what is important in life. After all those horrors experienced, you don't get tangled up anymore in useless reflections, you don't try to find out if the propriety behind which you are hiding, "miss", demand to wait one hour, three days or one month, if only to look at someone you like! You don't shy away from because you know that this could be over in the following second. Believe me, I've closed the eyes of hundred of young men who would have wished to put into action my point of view!...
- Your argumentation is very convincing but this does not justify my consent.
- This is not what I'm asking you! I'd just like that you put your preconceived ideas aside and that you let me prove you the depth of feelings I have for miss O'Brien. May be they do not obey your customs but they are sincere, and this, since the first day her hazelnut gaze met mine…
That time, Candy uncrossed her arms, speechless. The doctor's words were mixing up in her mind and were leaving her confuse. Deep down in herself, she liked the way he had to stand up to her and to fight for his honor that she had unfairly put to the test. It was also possible she had behaved a little too much patronizing towards Patty. She needed to detach herself from all of this…
- So? – He exclaimed, delighted to make her start as she was plunged into her thoughts.
- Excuse-me?...
- So, miss Andrew, do you agree to have me court miss O'Brien?...
- Well, I think that everything is all right! – Exclaimed Giuseppe Russo, the manager of the Verona Banco Popolare, as Terry was signing the last formalities. That latter was feeling relieved. He believed that it would have been more difficult to get some cash advances from a foreign bank, but it was obvious that his name and his title had facilitated the transaction.
- When do you think that the money transfer from my account in England towards that one will be effective?
- In a few days' time, mister Grandchester. But don't worry, we'll help you until then.
The banker gave him a wad of bills and also a note with his bank account details.
- Here is your account number. You'll be able to withdraw money at any time.
- Thank you very much. This is very kind of you to have acceded to my request.
The bank manager brushed Terry's remark away with a modest hand.
- Tssss, tsss! Mister Grandchester. It's not often we have among our clients an American star, who, furthermore, is a member of one of the greatest families of England!
The young man nodded in silence, embarrassed. This type of obsequious before his family tree had always made him feel uncomfortable. But he had to admit that reporting it today had been very useful to win the banker's trust and get some cash. He had spent all what he had left in the train ticket, and he needed to pay for some necessities: finding accommodation, buying some clothes and may be something to eat if his appetite came back…
- Do you need something else, mister Grandchester?
The young actor thought a while then answered.
- Indeed, perhaps you could help me.
With his hands fan-shaped, his elbows in support on his desk, his eyes half-closed with satisfaction, the manager adopted a listening posture.
- Well. As you know, I've just arrived in town, and I'm searching an accommodation. I don't want a hotel. I'd like to find a furnished room that would not be to far from the city center, in a quiet district, a quiet place in which I could rest. Could you give me an address to which I could get some information?
- It won't be necessary, mister Grandchester, because I've what you need.
Before the asking gaze of his interlocutor, the banker followed, a triumphant smile on his lips.
- It is out of the question that you stay anywhere! I own a little house along the river. In fact, it's my mother's. She is having a course of treatment in the mountain. She can't bear the summer heat anymore. I would be very honored if you accept to stay there. As long as you like…
- Well… I don't know how to accept…
- That house is very cozy with a very beautiful view over the Adige River. An ideal setting to relax between two performances.
- Listen… I… Let me at least pay the charges!
- Consider you are my guest, mister Grandchester! My mother would skin me if she knew that I have left on the streets a big Shakespeare lover. He's her favorite author!
- Really?
- Really! She has taught English literature for forty years. I know what I'm talking about!
He had rolled his eyes, laughing. Terry found that funny. His interlocutor sounded like he did not share that motherly passion, which might have been daily imposed to him during his youth. But, to the sound of his voice, one's could feel that he was remembering it with certain tenderness.
- Here are the house's keys. This is not very far from here, on the other side of the New Bridge, right down the amphitheater. The house bears the name of "the squirrels house", referring to my brother and I who used to spend our time in the trees when we were children.
- I.. I'm confused…. I don't know how to thank you – mumbled Terry, taking the keys.
- Just send me some invitations for the play!
- The best seats! – Terry exclaimed with a frank smile.
- For sure! Hahaha! – Answered the banker, holding out a knowing hand that Terry shook warmly. That latter greeted him one last time and moved towards the door. But, as he was leaving the room, the manager came back to him.
- I almost forgot, mister Grandchester. Your neighbors will be the Cavaletto, some very charming people. They usually help my mother in the house maintenance. Rosa, the woman, will prepare your bedroom before you arrive. She will also take care of the cleaning and of your meals during your stay. She is an excellent cooker!
- I'm eager to meet her! – Lied Terry who was unable to swallow anything.
- Do you have anything else to do before going there?
- Yes, I do, I'd like to buy new clothes.
- In that case, go on my behalf to Vincenzo's. He will treat you like a prince!
He wrote the address on a piece of paper.
- It's about two streets from here.
- Definitely, I'm going to think that you are my guardian angel! – Did Terry, laughing, as he took the paper.
- Well, who knows! In a so religious country such as Italy, this would not be surprising!
Terry burst out laughing and thanked him for the last time. Both men left each other on the doorstep of the bank, then the young man went to Vincenzo's shop. Giuseppe Russo had not lied to him. A prince would not have been better served. He liked that Italian fashion that he found more creative than the elegant British dandies'. Dressed like this, he looked at him in the mirror, which reflected him, the image of a young man, definitely handsome, but whose dawn features, beginnings of a beard, and pale complexion increased the feverish sparkle of his eyes. He shook his head to chase that image that reminded him about the whole misery of his life, and came back to the fitting room. He stopped his choice on a new suit, two casual outfits, and some underwear. He was eager to change of clothes! The shopkeeper knew well Miss Russo's house. She used to come sometimes to the shop to buy a new tie or a new shirt for her beloved son's birthday, and he proposed to deliver his purchases there. Terry agreed. He did not have any idea about the travel distance until the squirrels' house and did not want to load himself for nothing.
All in all, he arrived at destination half an hour later. The crossing of the old town had seemed to him very pleasant in spite of the heat of the early afternoon. On the road, as he was following the left bank of the river, he had met a couple of men in shirtsleeves and plain canvas trousers, sitting under the shadow of a tree, eating their snack. Their heavy workhorse was peacefully browsing close to them, before going back to his labor and pulling the barge loaded with trunks that was moored in front of them by the waterside. Terry had greeted them with a discrete sign of the hand and had followed his road.
Some rowboats carrying goods were also sailing back up the river, reminding to the visitor he was that Verona was not just a touristic city but also a business one, and this, since Antiquity. In this new environment, he was feeling a little disoriented. Few hours before, he was in a train on his way back home, and now, he was going to play again the role which had changed his life.
At the end of the path, one could just hardly guess the roof of the Russo House, half hidden by an enclosure wall of about two meters high, that he had to bypass to gain access to an old wrought iron gate. It was half opened. Terry pushed the gate that creaked on its hinges. In front of him, a gravel path went through a lawn garden adorned with one hundred years old trees, bushes and flowerbeds.
- Not bad for a "little" house!... – thought Terry as he moved forward in the alley.
The XIXth style building was waiting for him at the bottom of the garden under the care of a splendid lime tree. He had the feeling that it was inclining its sun-dappled stone frontage to welcome him and complaisantly observing him through its louvered shutters. He turned the door handle. It was not locked. Rosa should be around, busy in the preparation of his coming. He put a step inside and called to announce his presence. No one answered. Then, he walked around the house, through the kitchen, the dining room until a living room that opened onto a garden that went down to the river edge. In the shadow of a wisteria enlaced on an arbor, the terrace stretched to the whole width of the house. A very pleasant place to have one's breakfast… and to have some rest too, he thought, noticing a deck chair on the side.
He returned to the living-room and remained before some pictures that were on the piano, close to the French window: some faded shots of a passed youth that let perceive the past beauty of the householder. There was also a picture of her wedding and some others of her sons in short pans, the famous little squirrels. It was a very touching family portrait that summarized a very fulfilled life. The type of life he would never know…
He left the living-room and walked towards the stairs at the end of the corridor. The bedrooms were on the first floor and he hesitated an instant. He had the feeling to crack the secret of his host's privacy and he felt embarrassed. The wooden floor began to creak under his feet. He passed before a half opened door. Since his arrival, it looked like his path had been traced. That bedroom's window gave onto the garden and he noticed that the clothes he had bought were already there, carefully put down on the bed. Facing it, next to a wardrobe, a door led to a bathroom. Since the morning, he had been dreaming of a good shower and he took off his clothes without delay, leaving them all over the tiled floor. There was no hot water visibly, and he let out a cry under the effect of the frozen water on his skin. But he quickly got used to it, reinvigorated by that sudden freshness that cleaned his body and his mind. As he was having fun with the showerhead, swallowing and spitting out the water with gurgling of satisfaction, a noise, a strident scream rather, able to burst someone's eardrums, made him startle. With his head soaped and his eyes full of foam, he groped for a towel to wipe his face, and heard a thud, like someone's one stepping back and hitting on something. He was not alone in the room! Darn! He realized then that he was bare-naked and got paralyzed. With his hands clumsily put on his genitals, legs bent, he immediately opened his eyes and met the alarmed gaze of another person. It was an about fifty years old short woman, brown-haired, with, at her feet, the towels she had just let fall down, under the influence of emotion.
- Buongiorno… - he said, shyly, with an embarrassed smile.
- Santa Maria ! – She cried out, turning quickly her head to the opposite direction. With her neck outstretched to the extreme, she squeezed strongly her eyelids, agitating her arms in all directions in front of her, mumbling apologizes that strangled into her throat. Then she ran away with little frightened screams that merged to her hasty steps on the floor.
Terry stayed for a while dumbfounded. When recovering his mind, he picked one of the towels and began to dry himself. He met his soaked face in the mirror and shrugged, laughing.
- Well… I think we've been introduced to each other!
When Candy returned to Patty's bedroom, that latter was patiently waiting for her in her bed. She had been brought her meal but she had not touched it. She raised some eyes full of worry and reproach towards her friend who was sitting next to her on the edge of the bed.
- I'm sorry, patty. I think I've overreacted – Candy did, putting her hand on her friend's, with a sigh of embarrassment.
Patty nodded, with a bothered pout.
- You know – followed Candy, lowering her head and staring at the folds of her dress – He told me something that made me upset, something that he believes to know about me but which is not true. This made me think a lot. In other circumstances, I would not have cared about it, but I wouldn't like you think the same thing about me too…
Patty leaned her head on the side, intrigued.
- He told me that I reacted that way because I did not want that things change for you, that I only wanted to keep you single for my own comfort, to keep you available, in order not to be sent to my own solitude. But he's wrong! Oh Patty, believe me, he's wrong!
She had turned to her friend with an unblinking straight and frank gaze.
I don't care about being alone, about being the one who attends her friends' wedding while always comes back the same question: "Why aren't you married yet?". You know, I could be the only single woman on that earth that it would not have any importance to me. What matters is your happiness, Patty. I've so much seen you suffer all along those years that I couldn't, I couldn't prevent myself from getting worried for you and from behaving like an overprotective mother. I should not have reacted that way, forgive me…
- Candy – answered Patty, kindly. Her gaze had changed, full of benevolence – I understand what you feel. I think I would have reacted the same if I were you. Ever since, you've protected us, Annie and me, and this suited us, I can confess it to you. But now, you have to trust me. I'm not a little girl anymore. And if unfortunately, I am wrong about Alessandro, I mean, doctor Biazini, I'll have no one to blame but myself. I know that life has kept for me some other surprises, some good and bad ones. But I'd like you let me grow up. It's really high time!
- Forgive me, Patty, for having been too much intrusive in your life. I think I've transferred my own fears on you. I'm going to make some efforts and stay where my place is nowadays: the one of the friend on which you can rely on and who will always be there to help and support you.
- Oh Candy, I'm not worried at all for that! I know that you are the best friend ever. This is the reason why you are so excessive. You take it too much to heart.
- What do you want, one cannot change oneself! – She chuckled, shrugging.
Patty nodded with rolling eyes. Then she took Candy's hand and asked, carried away by curiosity:
- But tell me, how did he do to make you change your mind ?
- He had a speech, well… , striking!... He brilliantly fought back. He was honest with me, without any concession. This is what I appreciated in him. I think he deserves another chance….
- You know, Candy… - murmured Patty with a voice that modesty was making her shy – I had not felt that for someone since, since…
- I see what you mean…
- It's so good to feel one's heart beat again for someone! I thought I would not be able of it anymore.
The young blonde answered with a knowing smile. She had also thought that it would never happen to her after Anthony's death. It had been a childhood love so pure, so perfect, which had brought to her so much happiness, that she would have never thought possible to feel something so strong for someone else. But when she had realized what she was feeling for Terry, the power of her own feelings had frightened her. It had hit her like an earthquake, a violent tremor that had penetrated all her being, and which had left her knocked out, unable to find the words to describe the strength of her emotions. It had brought her back to life. The grey veil of sadness that covered her had ripped, revealing a light, colors that she had forgotten and who had surprised her with their intensity. She had found herself in a state of grace, similar to the one Patty was plunged into, and she was moved to see that latter's eyes, shining with the same brightness as hers at that time.
- I'm happy to see you so radiant, Patty. Though it is for this irresistible smooth talker…
And before her friend's disapproving gaze, she rushed to add:
- Who was gentle enough to ask me the authorization to… to court you!
- Are you kidding? This is what he asked to you? – Cried out Patty, startling in her bed as if she had just sat down on a porcupine.
- Yes, it is…
- And what did you say?
- Do you think he's of those denied something?
Patty answered in the negative with a mischievous pout. Her cheeks had become pink and a smile of relief split her tender face.
- But, I told him that his best interest was to behave whether not he would have to experiment my lasso…
- He didn't believe you!
- Of course, he didn't. He mocked like a madman…
- Oh no, he shouldn't have provoked you…
- I've let it bathe in his ignorance, taking great delight in thinking about him tied up and hanging from a tree like a piglet.
- What a reckless idiot!... – moaned Patty, shaking her head. She had difficulty to hold back a laugh.
- Besides, talking about pig, is it a roast pork and fine herbs, waiting in your plate? – Asked Candy, whose stomach reminded her its presence. She stared at the plate with avidity.
- It looks like so…
- And you haven't touched yet? – She exclaimed, scandalized, her eyes wide opened with astonishment.
Her stomach still gurgled, letting out hungry shouts eager to get satisfied.
- I was not very hungry… - did Patty as she pushed closer her plate towards Candy who was longingly salivating.
- What about now?
- Appetite has come back to me…
- Good news! I'm dying of hunger too !
- The contrary would have surprised me…
- You can laugh at my stomach but don't forget that you have to recover your strengths too if you want to go and dance with the handsome Alessandro…
She had pronounced his name, warbling, her eyebrows curving themselves with a repetitive movement, a blissful smile on her lips.
- Oh! – Cried out Patty, throwing her napkin to her face – Instead of laughing at me, you would better go and ask the nurse if there is one meal left for you. It would be a shame if you had to watch me eating…
- Oh no, they can't do that to me! I'm almost passing out! – She exclaimed as she disappeared in a flash in the hall.
Laughing inwardly, Patty stuck a fork into the piece of roast and brought it back to her mouth. The dish had cooled down but it did not prevent her taste buds to immediately get excited through contact with the smooth and delicious flesh. Without forcing herself, she took another mouthful. That gustatory delight was leaving her agog. That country had clearly many qualities and she though, getting pink, that if a people was able of such a tasty cuisine, it could be very promising in many other fields… With flushing cheeks, stupefied by the suggestiveness of what had just crossed her mind, she welcomed with a sigh of relief Candy's come back, who was proudly holding her meal, visibly very satisfied of herself.
- Yummmm, that smells good! - She exclaimed, with her mouth full - Those Italians are really gifted at cooking, don't you think?
On earing those words, Patty almost chocked on, and burst into laugher, leaving the young starving one who was sitting next to her, dumbfounded. Her scar came back and she grinned of pain, still shaken with a nervous laugh.
- What did I say? – Candy did, stunned, far from guessing what could make her friend laugh so much. Finally, that latter was able to calm down, and told her, recovering her breath, exhausted:
- Never change, Candy! Above all, stay as you are!...
Before her perplex look, Patty began all over again in an uncontrollable laugh, praying for a break before her scar had to be stitched. Hopefully, Doctor Biazini could be the one who would do it, and she blushed like a strawberry at this thought….
Cleaned dressed and clean-shaven, hair still wet, Terry pushed the kitchen door. Nobody was there but a plate of minestrone soup on the table. He suspected that given the circumstances, the poor Rosa had not wanted to wait for him and had run as far as possible from the flasher he might look to her. He began to laugh, thinking about what had happened and hoped that he would not have chocked her too much when appearing "au naturel". In any case, he could not turn back the clock. It had been a first unordinary and very embarrassing meeting for both of them, and he promised to himself to do his possible to win her trust.
All these emotions had brought his appetite back and he wolfed the soup down in a few seconds. He cut a piece of cheese and ate it with some bread, and ended with a glass of red wine that he drank without any rush, savoring each sip. The grandfather clock ticked its three hits at that time, and he sat up straight on his chair. It was time to join back the company. He had behaved like a diva for most of the day but now he had to have a professional attitude. People were relying on him and he did not want deceive them. Sidney had given to him the address of the hotel in which they stayed and he set off to meet them.
The hotel was in the old city, in the piazza Nicolo area, close to the arenas. Holding a map, he was trying to find his path in the labyrinth of streets: via Pigna, Garibaldi, Rosa, Corso, la piazza del'Erbe, then via Capello, that left at a crossing to go towards the piazza Nicolo. But as he was walking down Capello street, a strange bustle before him captured his attention. He went closer and discovered an odd ceremonial that was taking place in the bottom of a little street, in a paved courtyard, surrounded with ivy covered walls, partly lighted by the sun. Oddly, he felt attracted like a magnet and moved forward. He had never seen that place before but he recognized it. He had come there so many times in his dreams. And when he looked at the sign above the house front door before which he was standing, his heart began to beat faster and he trembled of emotion…
Sitting on one of the steps that overhung the amphitheater, Terry, a cigarette at his hand, was looking thoughtful at the sunset lights, drawing big shadows around him. He blew up his lungs with a new puff then spitted the smoke back that rose in violet glowing curls to go and die in the purple sky. His cerulescent gaze turned to the stage on which were getting fixed the last sceneries of their future performance, and he sighed sadly. He was not very proud of what he had done during the rehearsal. His mind was somewhere else, troubled with contradictory feelings that had invaded him in the afternoon, as soon as he had come into the courtyard of Juliet's house. They had not left him since then.
In that place, in spite of the surrounding crowd, he had felt that he was not all alone and that Juliet only, his long-standing friend, could read and understand his distress. They had been knowing each other so well, had been side by side for so many years that she could not ignore his secret wounds. With his back leaning under his sweetheart's balcony, his arms crossed, a foot against the wall, he had for a long time observed the tourists' comings and goings. Some came in a couple, others alone, and in those ones' eyes, he had recognized, thrilling, a shared distress with his own pains. Unable to explain it, he also had felt the need to share them with her, with that imaginary confidant who would let him reveal himself without any judgment. Then, sitting in a corner of the courtyard, away from prying eyes, he had written a letter in which he put all his despair and all his bitterness, as to quench his thirst of disappearing that never abandoned him. He had thought that it would ease his soul, but he had left very disappointed with the unpleasant feeling that putting words on his sufferings had revived them instead of shading them off. He arrived then in this state of mind at the hotel in which he was told that the troupe was already rehearsing at the arenas, an amphitheater dating back from Roman Empire, in which were yearly celebrated, since 1913, a famous lyrical festival. Sidney Wilde's troupe had been recruited by the festival manager to occupy the nights between two operas, and to give tribute, at the same time, to Shakespeare and his mythic heroes, those who had made the reputation of Verona: Romeo and Juliet. Unfortunately, Terry's performance had revealed itself more than deceiving. Though he knew his text, though the other actors had talent, he did not have his heart into his work, which could be felt, without any hesitation. He blamed himself for not being up to, for having disappointed his colleagues who had put so much hope in him. He had seen worrying and despair in Sydney's eyes, who probably was already wondering if they would be able to perform in two days. He wanted to get a hold of himself, he wanted it deeply, but it was like if that passion that had always burned in him was out and that nothing could revive it. And this got him more depressed.
- You don't come to eat with us, Terry?
He turned his head. Sidney Wilde's profile was silhouetted in front of him. Before his silence, that latter sat down next to him. Leaning forward with his elbows on support on his knees, his hands crossed, his gaze lost straight away, he finally said, with a touch of lassitude in his voice:
- I remember a time that is not so old… A time in which a young man, freshly arriving from England, pushed the door of the Stratford Company. I remember that day perfectly, because I was in Robert Hathaway's office when he entered, shy, stammering, but with something in his gaze, a determination, an absolute conviction, so rare in a person of his age that it had troubled us. We had immediately recognized in him that voracity, that fever that animates the ones of this race, the one of the bests, the one of the greatest who with one gesture, one word could give greatness and nobility to the most mediocre of texts. That young man was you, Terry… You so often dazzled us with your talent! As soon as you appeared on stage, we used to become your audience, admiring your prowess. You used to create an emulation that spread in the whole academy, which revealed unknown richness in each of us. We wanted to measure ourselves against you, to be up to you, for the better…
He followed, observing Terry from the corner of his eye, who was quivering.
- When that accident happened, something died in you. Feeling powerless, I watched you sinking little by little into alcohol and despair, and one day, you disappeared… And when you came back, long time later, I found back with relief the old days Terry, who did not hide anything of his cracks but who faced them with courage. He had found back his inspiration, and his creativity. I'd like then you tell me, Terry, what brought you back to life, what gave you back that strength to fight, because the Terry that I'm having just next to me is just the shadow of his former self, and I don't want to look at him destroying himself once again. Tell me what it is, please!
The young man shook his head and let out a painful sigh.
- You can't help me, Sidney… Nothing can be done for me now…
- How can you say that, Terry? Nothing is never lost!
- Quite the opposite, everything is lost when you don't have any reason to live, neither to hope… The only person who was able to get me out from the emptiness to which my life was limited before meeting her, has…
His throat filled with sobs and his voice choked. He looked up towards the sky to hide the perfidious tears that filled his eyes.
- I've been lied to, I've been cheated, I've been made to believe that I could know the joy to be with her again, until I finally learnt that she was actually married… How do you want to pick yourself up again?
- I'm so sorry for you, my friend! This is really a dirty trick! I don't know what to say…
- Neither do I… I've been trying for two days to find a meaning to all of this but I don't have much more answer as you… You know, yesterday night… I've wanted, I've almost…!
Looking down, he pulled his hair backward. He was trembling and his breath was panting. Sidney's comforting hand on his shoulder made him startle, and the moved way he was looking at him with, ended shaking him.
- Oh, Sid!... – he moaned – I'm aching so much in my flesh! It's so painful that I'm almost regretting that that good guy who caught me on the last moment, did not let me fall into those dark waters and let me disappear in the flows!...
On these words, Sidney Wilde stepped back, obviously upset by what he was hearing.
- Terry, I can hear you angriness. You want to blame everybody but this does not allow you to talk that way.
- That curse that I've been knowing since my childhood, gave me that legitimacy, Sid…
- You don't realize what you're talking about. Shut up!...
He was gritting his teeth and feeling the angriness rising inside him.
- Nobody can understand me anyway…
- For fuck's sake, Terry, shut your mouth! I cannot let you talk such nonsense!
Sidney Wilde had sat up in a jump and was staring at him with a reproachful look. The tone of his voice had radically changed too.
- How long are you going to keep on lamenting your fate? You say you're cursed, but my poor friend, the fairies are most likely the ones who bent over your cradle! You are young, handsome, riche, talented! Many people would kill father and mother to have only a few of what life gave to you. And you want to end with it? Well, what are you waiting to go and jump in the Adige River? There are a lot of bridges around here!
- Sidney, I… - Terry mumbled, his eyes wide opened, surprised by his friend's unexpected and violent reaction.
- You are heart-broken, but you are not the first and neither the last one! You can still pick yourself up and create yourself a new life, without her may be, but a worth-living one, because with some courage, and I know you have some, you'll be able to give a new breath to it. I'm sorry but crying over what you lost won't help you. Do you want to stay the rest of your life like that, lamenting on something unreachable? Is the life you want to have?
- Of course, not…
- I know that sadness has blinded you. You are unable to see the light at the end of the road. But believe me, that light is there, dazzling, ready to warm your heart. You just have to look…
With his back bent, Terry nodded in silence.
- I'm telling that, Terry, because I don't want you to waste all the beautiful years that lie before you. They won't give you any favor but they will build you, they will make you a good man who has so much to give. This is what I would have said to my son if he were still there…
- You son?
Sidney opined, dropping on the stone-faced tier of seats.
- Tim… Timothy… He died when he was fifteen of a blood disease, soon after my leaving from the Stratford company, for taking care of him…
- I… I'm sorry, Sid. I did not know that…
- You could not anyway… I had asked Robert to keep all of this, secret. Reluctantly, he had accepted to make people believe that I had left because of some disagreements between us. I did not want people feel sorry for me. It was so painful for me that I could not stand those compassionate looks towards me… And when…. When Tim… died…
His voice broke…
- When Tim died, I though I was going to turn crazy. I missed him so much! My wife and I could not communicate anymore. We were too much imprisoned in our own sadness… So we separated and I left for England. I don't know why I chose to go there. I think that I wanted to go as far as possible from anything that could remind me of my son… Oh, Terry, there is nothing worse than losing one's child! This is not in the nature of things! How can we get on our feet after this? I had become a living-dead!...
Terry was listening to him without saying anything, a lump in his throat. He was feeling ridiculous.
- One day, wandering the streets, I met a kid whose gaze paralyzed me. That was Tim's!... That kid lived in an orphanage. I took him under my wing and I taught him the only thing I knew: performing. Oh Terry, that kid saved my life! He was so receptive to all that I taught him, so hungry of knowledge, so gifted too, that he gave me back the taste to live for him, and for the other ones who joined us later. I've been so lucky in my misfortune!
Terry was having difficulty to swallow. He was so ashamed of himself, of being there lamenting without reacting, far from suspecting what this little dynamic man who was standing next to him had been through. How selfish he had been! He was feeling revolted by the indecency of his behavior. He half-opened his mouth, looking for the words that could excuse his pathetic attitude but Sidney stopped him in his tracks.
- At some point or another, you have to get back on your feet, Terry. Life dents us but if we don't move forward, we do not deserve those of loved us. We have to honor them by doing our best in life. I think that Tim would be proud of mine now. The pain of his absence remains always the same, it brings me down every day, but I still stand up, thinking about what he will tell me the day when we see again: "Very well, Daddy!..."
Bowledover, Terry shook his head, unable to hold back his tears.
- I'm such an idiot, Sid! Forgive me…
- Your whole life is in front of you, Terry. Don't give up! Gosh! If I were your age, I would have already torn my sweetheart away from that moron's arms who plays her husband! Instead of… Instead of thinking about a dive in the canal of Venice! Prize idiot!
He had said that with certain irony and Terry sighed with relief. Being so rightly sermonized had moved him deeply but oddly, he was feeling much better then.
- Tim would be almost your age, Terry… And when I look at you, I imagine what he could have become… I unfortunately cannot talk in the present, so please, take that chance and live! LIVE!
Terry stood up with a nod and stretched his hand to him.
- I… I promise you, Sid. I will never let me go again… I won't disappoint you anymore.
He was facing the company manager's gaze with determination. A new glint was shining in his reddened eyes and Sidney understood that he was sincere. He accepted his hand that he shook, his other hand giving to the young man's forearm a frank and affectionate tap.
- I like to hear that! Listen… Enough tears for tonight! Let's meet the others at the restaurant. I've been told about a sparkling wine named Lambrusco. I think it will do us good to knock back few bottles of it!...
- Few bottles? I don't know if it is wise but I've no objection to the discovering of that curious wine. You must fight the fire with fire!... – Terry chuckled.
- That precept suits me, my friend. Come on, let's hurry up! They are so hungry that they are going to tear us to pieces!
Terry agreed with a holding smile and followed him, hands in pockets. On the way, Sidney's words came back to his mind and he thrilled at the thought that aroused in him.
If I were your age, I would have already torn my sweetheart away from that moron's arms who plays her husband!
He was right… For an unknown reason, Candy intimidated him so much that she had removed all boldness from him. Was it the slap she had given him one day that had made him lose any confidence in him, but also in her? He was not that seventeen years old upstart anymore, he was free to do what he liked, he had nothing to lose! Yes, by the end of the performances, he would leave again to find her and win her back! On his word of Grandchester, she would be his one day! No matter the plots and blows below the belt, they will be reunited and he will never let her go away from him. Even if he had to sacrifice everything to succeed….
End of chapter 9