Memories of a hundred nights came back to him: pure, vigorous sex for the sake of it, love spiced with exquisite tenderness, sometimes one followed by the other. The silk dress might not have been there for all the protection it gave her from his fevered thoughts.

‘Am I a credit to you?’ she asked lightly. ‘I did my best.’

‘You look glorious, but-’

‘What is it?’ She’d felt him stiffen.

‘Are you wearing anything under this dress?’

‘Of course not. It’s tight-fitting satin. I wouldn’t want any awkward lines showing.’

He took a deep, ragged breath. ‘I’d forgotten what a shocking flirt you are.’

‘You don’t really mean flirt. You mean something much more extreme.’

‘Whatever I meant, you’re driving me crazy.’

‘Of course. It’s one of the great pleasures of life. You wouldn’t expect me to give it up, would you?’

‘You’ll never give up any chance to torment me,’ he growled. ‘I know that.’

‘I never tormented you-not on purpose.’

‘Are you saying you didn’t realise you were doing it? I find that hard to believe.’

‘Does that mean you’re doubting my word?’ she asked lightly.

‘It means I know you. You could always tell what was going on, whether you seemed to or not. That was the joke you always had at my expense.’

‘But I couldn’t always tell,’ she mused. ‘When we were together there were times when you might have been exchanging lingering glances with every girl in the room. How would I have known?’

‘You’d have known,’ he said softly. ‘Because my attention was always on you, every second of every minute of every day, and you’d have sensed the moment it was taken away. But you knew it never would be. Didn’t you?’

‘Yes.’ She sighed. ‘I did know.’

‘It was one of the things about me that you found unendurable, wasn’t it?’

‘Don’t say that,’ she urged quickly. ‘Unendurable is a terrible word.’

He wanted to say that it described his life without her, but he controlled himself, refusing to admit the truth. He still had his dignity.

But it was hard to think of dignity-or at least to think that it mattered-when the feel of her body gliding against him reminded him of a hundred lovings. Why had she come here to torture him?

‘What do you look like?’ she whispered. ‘If I could see, what would I find in your eyes?’

‘The same look that’s always been there,’ he said softly. ‘You never really doubted that, did you?’

‘I don’t know. Everything became so confused. You gave me so much. It’s just that-’

‘I gave the wrong things.’ With a sudden rush of sadness he added, ‘And I always would, wouldn’t I? A man can’t change himself that much-’

‘Don’t, Francesco. I didn’t mean-’

‘Celia, my dear girl!’

Angelica was descending on them, full of a booming bonhomie that would not be denied. She enveloped Celia in a vast bear hug, while Francesco gave an inner groan, knowing how she would hate this.

‘I’ve been searching for you all evening for our get-together,’ Angelica informed the world. ‘I’ve been watching you, and I want to tell you how much I admire you. I just can’t believe how well you manage to cope with life.’

There was a brief silence. Francesco clenched his hands, knowing that this was the worst thing to say to Celia. Even the others, who didn’t know her so well, picked up the tension.

‘But what is there to cope with?’ Celia asked, smiling. ‘I live life just as you do.’

‘Not exactly, surely?’ Angelica cooed. ‘There must be so many things you don’t know about-’

‘And many things she knows about that we don’t,’ Francesco said. ‘Celia’s world is different to ours, but not worse.’

‘But surely,’ Angelica persisted, ‘it must make life very difficult, having so much less than other people-’

Hope and Toni exchanged alarmed glances, but it was Celia who saved the situation by bursting into laughter. Someone suggested more coffee and there was a cheer. Toni took over Angelica again, demanding that she come out and see the stars with him.

‘Phew!’ Francesco breathed close to Celia’s ear.

‘She didn’t mean any harm,’ Celia said, still laughing.

‘If I’d said anything like that you’d have hung me out to dry,’ he said wryly.

‘But you don’t say things like that any more. And thank you for what you did say.’

‘Well, as you said earlier, I guess I’m learning,’ he said lightly.

She turned her face to him with an odd expression, as though she was thinking something important. Suddenly his heart was beating with hope.

But before she could speak they heard the sound of her cellphone coming from inside her bag.

‘I’m sorry. I should have turned it off,’ she said, hastily reaching for it.

‘No problem. We’ll leave you in peace,’ Hope said.

She shooed everyone away, including Francesco, although he lingered long enough to hear Celia say, ‘Ciao, Sandro.’

He could have cursed. Just when things were going well that buffone had to intrude.

‘Come away,’ Hope said, chivvying him. ‘Let her be private.’

‘There’s no need,’ Celia said quickly. ‘I’ll just tell him I can’t talk now.’

She did so, shutting off the phone almost at once, but, still, Hope drew Francesco away some distance to ask furiously, ‘What were you thinking of to let that wonderful creature slip through your fingers?’

‘It wasn’t quite like that, Mamma.’

‘That’s a matter of opinion. And who is Sandro?’

‘A vulgar nobody,’ Francesco snapped, ‘who pushes in where he isn’t wanted.’

‘I see,’ Hope mused. ‘As dangerous as that?’

CHAPTER SIX

IT WAS A fine evening, and they were both feeling cheerful as they drove away. Francesco’s good humour had been restored by Celia’s refusal to talk to Sandro for more than a moment.

‘Oh, I like your family so much,’ she enthused now.

‘They just love you. My brothers are particularly impressed with the way you combine pleasure with business.’

‘Not just your brothers. I had a most interesting conversation with Olympia who, I gather, is the real power in that factory.’

‘Yes, I think Primo has only just discovered that. Jacko was a big success, too. Everyone wanted to make a fuss of him.’

‘I know,’ Celia said. ‘They were all very nice, and asked me first if it was all right to pet him while he was “on duty”. I said it was, but I don’t think he enjoyed it much. He didn’t seem to respond.’

‘Not like Wicksy,’ Francesco recalled. ‘He was a real party animal. But Jacko’s always a bit quiet.’

‘He and I need a little more time to get used to each other,’ Celia said. ‘I’m going to give him lots of extra love until he feels better.’

Suddenly she began to chuckle.

‘What is it?’ he asked, grinning with delight in her pleasure.

‘There was one moment tonight when I really wished I had eyes. It was when Toni announced that he wanted a divorce so that he could marry Angelica.’

Francesco shouted with laughter.

‘But he made sure Angelica was safely off the premises before he said it,’ he recalled.

‘I’d have given anything to see Hope’s face,’ Celia said longingly. ‘Still, I expect she got the joke.’

‘I think even she was a bit taken aback by that one. Toni said it would make her think carefully about what commands she gave him in future.’

‘Does he always obey her commands?’ Celia asked with interest.

‘More or less. But don’t think he’s henpecked. Being devoted to her is what makes him happy.’

‘Then he’s the one who loves?’

‘They love each other,’ Francesco declared.

‘No, I mean, that old saying about there’s always one who loves and one who lets themselves be loved. He’s the one who loves.’

‘I suppose that’s true,’ Francesco said thoughtfully. ‘I’d never realised it before, but I often see his eyes follow her around the room. With her it happens less.’

She didn’t answer this, and when he stole a brief glance at her he saw that she was leaning back with her eyes closed, perhaps dozing.

At her apartment he opened the car door, handed her out, then did the same for Jacko, and watched as the dog took her to the front door.

‘Can I come in for a moment?’ he asked.

‘Yes, of course.’

He forced himself to stay back as she allowed Jacko to take her inside and knelt down to remove his harness. He immediately went to drink from his bowl, then flopped onto his bed.

‘He looks a bit dispirited,’ Francesco observed, ‘not lively as Wicksy used to.’

‘I know,’ she said. ‘I sense it. He works hard, but he’s not happy.’

‘You said he was with his last owner a long time?’

‘That’s true.’

‘And then he got told to go?’ Francesco mused.

‘Well, not quite like that.’

‘It probably felt like that to him. He doesn’t understand the reasons. Everything he thought was secure was suddenly snatched away.’

‘But the same thing happened to Wicksy, and he adjusted to his new owners,’ Celia pointed out. ‘When he was playing with those children he had that special note in his bark that means a dog’s having the time of his life.’

‘I suppose dogs have different personalities, like people. Wicksy got lucky, but it hasn’t worked out so well with Jacko. How does he come to terms with his loss if nobody can explain it to him?’

Celia turned her head towards him, frowning at something she’d heard in his voice.

‘What did you mean by that?’ she asked.

‘Nothing,’ he said hastily. ‘Nothing special.’

‘Yes, you did. Tell me. Francesco, please, it’s important. Tell me what you meant.’

‘I’m not sure that I know. Just that it’s something I seem to sense in my bones: being safe, and then not being safe and not understanding-’

‘Tell me,’ she said again, urgently.

‘I can’t. I don’t know the words.’

Even as he spoke he felt the mood drain away from him, leaving him empty inside.

‘I only meant-about Jacko,’ he said heavily.

‘Yes, of course.’ Celia dropped to her knees and fondled Jacko, kissing and caressing his ears. ‘Poor old boy,’ she crooned. ‘It’s hard for you, isn’t it?’

The animal responded by gazing up at her from gentle, yearning eyes. Francesco watched her hands moving over him, offering comfort, and suddenly he was back in another time.

The details were vague, but he recalled that he’d missed a contract he’d badly wanted and come home in a foul mood. She’d come up behind him as he’d sat glowering into a whisky, slipped her arms about him from behind, and dropped a kiss on top of his head.

‘Don’t let it get you down,’ she’d murmured. ‘It’s not the end of the world.’

‘Right now it feels like it,’ he’d growled.

‘Nonsense. Other things matter far more.’

‘Like what?’

‘Like this,’ she’d said, proceeding to demonstrate.

In a few minutes they’d been in bed and the contract had been forgotten.

Now her caresses were wasted on a dog.

‘Is Jacko looking any happier?’ she asked.

‘Yes, he only wanted you to show you love him. You can leave him now. He’s all right.’

To his relief she did so, rising to her feet and turning in his direction. He reached out his hand and took hold of hers gently.

‘You’re beautiful,’ he said. ‘All evening I couldn’t take my-my eyes off you.’

She smiled and moved closer to him. ‘That’s good,’ she said. ‘At one time you’d never have said that. You’re learning fast.’

‘You once said I’d never learn.’

‘I underestimated you.’

‘Sure, I’m a quick learner. If you bash me over the head a few times I get the point-even if it’s too late.’

‘Yes,’ she echoed. ‘That can be the worst of all. You look back and think-’

‘If only,’ he murmured.

‘Yes-if only. If only I’d known then what I know now I’d have made better use of it. If only I was wiser and cleverer than I am-’

‘I thought I was the one who wasn’t wise or clever,’ he said wryly.

‘I wasn’t so bright. I could have handled a lot of things better than I did.’

There was a melancholy in her voice that made his heart ache. So much between them. So much anger and misunderstanding, resentment, grief, yet so much warmth, so much joy and love. Where had it gone?

‘Could you have done anything differently?’ he asked. ‘Could I? We are as we are. I think we were made to hurt each other-’

‘And miss each other in the dark,’ she said wistfully.

‘But you’re not afraid of the dark,’ he reminded her.

Celia was standing very close to him, and it was natural to lay his hands on her bare shoulders, so that she turned her head up, almost as if she were looking at him, and spoke softly.

‘No, but there are other things to be afraid of.’