Lucy Gordon - Married Under the Italian Sun

‘Throw him out,’ Sam protested.

‘Gavin, I’m sorry I can’t invite you for a long visit, but you can stay tonight.’

‘No, he can’t.’ Sam sulked.

‘One night will be just fine,’ Gavin said. ‘It’s enough for me just to see you again.’

‘I’m going to be sick,’ Sam announced loudly.

Vittorio met his eye and winked.

Dinner was a fraught business. Angel’s attempts to persuade Sam that he would rather eat in his room had met with a blank refusal.

‘Well, don’t sit there being rude to him all evening,’ she begged.

‘Why not? I never liked him.’

‘You said you didn’t remember meeting him before.’

‘I don’t. Aha! But you say I did,’ Sam replied.

‘Oh, you’re so sharp! Yes, you did. I was dating him before I met Joe.’

‘Well, there you are, then. I told you I never liked him.’

She waylaid Vittorio to say, ‘I hope you’re planning to stay.’

‘Are you joking? I wouldn’t miss this for anything.’

‘You realise you started the problem with that “Ghastly Gavin” crack.’

‘It’s no crime to tell the truth. And I’m fascinated to discover what your taste used to be.’

‘I was very young then,’ Angel said defensively. ‘And he was a lot slimmer.’

Vittorio grinned.

‘Just help keep Sam in order, please. There’s no knowing what he’ll say tonight.’

‘Really? I’d have thought we could guess exactly what he’ll say. And no power on earth will stop him.’

In the event the evening was so dire as to be almost entertaining. Sam expressed himself loudly and often, ignoring all attempts to shush him. Vittorio, Angel noted with exasperation, was actually encouraging him.

Only Gavin seemed oblivious to the darts headed his way. He had set himself to play the part of a much-loved old friend whose visit was a matter for rejoicing, and nothing was going to divert him. It didn’t matter that the audience was unresponsive and the performance fell flat. It was the role he’d prepared, and he stuck with it.

But he wasn’t the only one playing a part. As the meal ended Sam grinned at Vittorio and said knowingly, ‘You’re drinking well tonight, my boy. I’ve never seen you putting it away like that.’

Since Vittorio had been notably abstemious that evening, everyone stared at this, except Vittorio himself, who said, ‘Sorry, Sam. Do you think I’ve had too much?’

‘Too much to be driving home along a cliff road. You’d better stay here tonight. No problem about that, is there?’ This was to Angel.

‘No problem at all,’ she said, appreciating these tactics, and thinking that Sam could sometimes be more shrewd than anyone guessed.

All Gavin’s cleverness wasn’t enough to have Angel to himself. After supper Vittorio pinned him down to talk about motor cars, which Angel interrupted just long enough to say goodnight, before vanishing.

Then Roy and Frank emerged from putting Sam to bed, and suggested a nightcap. One brandy became three, then four. Gavin was finally assisted to his room by Vittorio, who dumped him on the bed before retiring to spend the rest of the night on a window seat from which he could see Gavin’s door.

Gavin finally secured a private moment with Angel after breakfast the next morning, but this was less because of his own efforts than because Angel, exasperated, had decided to get it over with so that she could be rid of him. So she led him out onto the terrace.

‘I thought we’d never be alone,’ he said, in what he fondly hoped was a winning voice.

‘Well, we’re all rather busy.’

‘I can see that, but I don’t have to go immediately. If we could only spend a few days getting to know each other again…’

‘Sam would never agree to that.’

‘Sam’s very protective of you, and I don’t blame him.’

‘That’s good of you,’ Angel replied, suppressing a desire to laugh.

‘He remembers how close we once were.’

She was about to remind him that Sam didn’t remember him at all, but decided not to bother. There was no diverting him from his self-deception, and the sooner he got to the end of his prepared script the better.

‘You know, Angel, you really hurt me with those things you said in the magazine.’

‘I hurt you? What about all that stuff you spouted about me dumping you for Joe? You know we’d finished before then.’

‘Had we? That’s not how I remember it. We were in love.’

‘I thought we were. Then you wanted me to abandon Sam in a home, and that was that. I dumped you instead.’

‘Scusi, signora. I have come for the coffee cups.’

With an oath, Gavin turned to see Vittorio standing just behind them.

‘There are no coffee cups,’ Angel said.

‘Are you sure? Berta said-’

‘There are no coffee cups!’ Gavin bawled. ‘Clear off.’

‘Scusi, scusi.’ Vittorio withdrew, apparently despondent.

Gavin took a deep breath and did his best to get back on track.

‘I think you do me an injustice,’ he said.

‘Well, you got your revenge in that “heartbroken Gavin” piece. I hope they paid you well for it.’

‘Probably less than they paid you to disparage me in GlamChick.’

‘I didn’t exactly disparage you. I just said your conversation was limited.’

‘That’s not all you said was limited,’ he said, aggrieved.

‘They made most of it up. Look, Gavin, the past is the past.’

‘Sure it is. What matters is the future. When I saw those pics of you, looking so beautiful, I realised that I’d never stopped caring about you. You and I were good together-’

‘And this is a lovely house.’

‘What?’

‘You saw the pictures of this house and thought you’d move in on me.’

‘You do me an injustice.’

‘You said that before. Well, I did say your conversation was limited.’

‘Look, I understand you’re playing hard to get. We’ve been a long time apart, but now we’ve found each other again-’

‘Gavin, listen, we haven’t found each other. It was over long ago, and it’s still over-’

‘You don’t mean that-’

‘Scusi, signora-Berta says-’

‘Will you get out of here?’ Gavin roared, confronting Vittorio, who had appeared like a genie from a trapdoor. ‘Clear off! Do you hear me? Clear off, clear off.’

‘Scusi? Me no spikka da English.’

Angel hastily placed a hand over her quivering mouth.

‘What are you talking about?’ Gavin raged. ‘Last night you-why am I arguing with you? Buzz off!’

‘Scusi? Buzz…?’

‘Clear out! Buzz off! Get lost!’

‘Happy to,’ Vittorio said affably. ‘But you’re coming with me.’

Before Gavin could retreat, Vittorio reached up and took his ear between finger and thumb.

‘Leggo of me! Whaddaya think you’re doing?’

‘Helping you on your way,’ Vittorio said with deadly affability as he moved to the door, forcing the wriggling Gavin to follow.

‘Get off me!’

‘Our friend has decided to leave us,’ Vittorio said, as if he hadn’t spoken. ‘Could somebody bring his luggage down?’

It was only then that Angel realised there was an interested audience that consisted of just about everyone in the household, led by Sam, who was acting as though Christmas had come. His eyes were bright with pleasure, and as he followed Vittorio and his squirming captive outside he was actually applauding.

‘Vittorio, what are you going to do?’ Angel said, half laughing, half anxious.

‘Nothing sinister. Like a good taxi driver I’ll take him into town and drop him at the bus station.’

Gavin opened his mouth to protest but a look from his captor silenced him. Vittorio’s mouth might be smiling but his eyes were not.

‘You can drop him at the station but you can’t make him get on a bus,’ she pointed out.

‘Don’t worry about him coming back. Along the way I’m going to explain to him how unwise that would be.’

‘Then take someone else in case he puts up a fight.’

‘Please, signora, do you really think I need help against this creature? Don’t insult me.’

‘That’s right, don’t insult him,’ Sam echoed.

Having reached the car, Vittorio opened the back door, propelled Gavin inside and locked him in. Angel watched, appalled and fascinated, as Gavin hammered fruitlessly on the windows and shouted abuse that nobody could hear.

‘Like a spider trapped in a bottle,’ Vittorio observed dispassionately. ‘And he isn’t unlike a fat, bloated spider.’

Frank and Roy had hastened upstairs to Gavin’s room and now emerged with his luggage, which they put in the trunk. As the car vanished they all waved at Gavin staring out of the rear window, still evidently wondering what was happening to him.

‘What did he think he was doing?’ Roy demanded.

‘He thought it would be nice to come here and take over,’ Angel said. ‘And he thought I’d be stupid enough to fall for his line. That’s the bit I can’t forgive.’

‘Well, Vittorio took care of him,’ Sam rejoiced. ‘I knew we could rely on him.’ He was almost dancing with joy.

When Vittorio returned several hours later, Sam was the first to greet him.

‘He won’t come back, will he?’ he asked anxiously.

Grinning, Vittorio tapped the side of his nose, but did not speak.

‘That’s right,’ Sam agreed, nodding wisely. ‘Don’t tell us where you buried him.’

‘Actually I just put him on a bus to Naples,’ Vittorio said. ‘Sorry to disappoint you.’

‘I suppose it’ll do for now.’

‘Will you two listen to yourselves?’ Angel demanded. ‘Actually, I could have coped with him.’

Vittorio and Sam looked at her, then at each other. They shook their heads.

After that Sam was quiet for a few days. Sometimes he seemed to be sunk so deep in thought that Angel had to speak to him several times before he knew she was there, but this was different from his usual vagueness. Now she had a feeling that there was a purpose to his reveries, but when she tried to get him to open up he smiled brightly and told her not to worry her head about a thing, just as though she was a child again.

One morning he gave everyone the slip and went for a solitary walk in the garden. For a while he strolled apparently aimlessly, but when he saw Vittorio hard at work, pruning an apple tree, a sense of purpose seemed to envelope him, and he stepped out smartly, waving his stick and calling out.

Vittorio greeted him with a cheerful grin. ‘You managed to escape, then?’

‘Of course I did. That granddaughter of mine is a wonderful girl, but she does fuss so.’

‘That’s women for you,’ Vittorio agreed wisely.

‘The thing is that you have to let them think they’re running the show,’ Sam confided. ‘Never let them suspect that you’re really pulling the strings.’

‘What strings have you been pulling now?’

‘I’ve been thinking about that Gavin creature.’

‘A nasty, slimy piece of work,’ Vittorio agreed.

‘But you knew how to deal with him. You’re a man who can be relied on, and I’ve been thinking…’ His voice trailed off and his eyes suddenly became unfocussed.

‘Sam!’ Vittorio said urgently.

‘Ah, yes, where was I?’

‘Thinking.’

‘Ah, yes. I do a lot of that. People think I can’t think, but I can. I’ve been writing my will. It’s quite a document.’

‘I’ll bet it is.’

Sam fumbled in his pocket and brought out a sealed envelope, which he held out.

‘Is this it?’ Vittorio asked, taking the envelope. ‘You want me to look after it for you?’

‘That’s right. Because you’re my heir.’

‘Oh, no-’ Vittorio tried to hand it back but Sam became agitated.

‘You must keep it because-because I’ve left you my most precious possession.’

‘But surely that should go to Angel? She’s the person you love.’

‘You don’t understand-my most precious possession-you must-’ Sam sat down suddenly, gasping.

‘Don’t get yourself upset,’ Vittorio said worriedly.

‘You must take it-otherwise I can’t feel safe-’

‘All right.’ He shoved the letter into his back pocket and looked anxiously into the old man’s face. ‘Are you feeling bad?’

‘Just a bit-short of breath,’ Sam gasped. ‘I’ll be all right in a minute.’

‘I don’t think so,’ Vittorio said anxiously. ‘Let’s get home quickly.’

He pulled Sam’s arm about his neck and raised him off the ground as easily as though he weighed nothing. Carrying him thus, he hurried to the house, calling Angel’s name.

IT WAS quiet in the hospital corridor. Vittorio pushed the door open slowly and looked into the room where Sam lay connected to machines. Beside him sat Angel, her whole attention fixed on the old man, so that she wasn’t aware of Vittorio until his hand dropped lightly on her shoulder.