They’ll be back in time for her eighteenth birthday and then as far as I’m concerned that’s it. I will have done my best for her. My job will be over.”
“Well, I hope she’ll be grateful to you one day, when she’s old enough to fully understand. You’re getting her out of a stickysituation and the boy is quite unsuitable.”
“We all do silly things at one time or another, the important thing is to realise in time and find a remedy. That’s something I’ve always managed to do, one way or another,” she said with a rather grim smile.
Guido looked across at her and for a brief moment he wondered exactly what she meant.
CHAPTER FIVE
The previous evening, after an interminable week of boredom that increased in intensity every day, Jacopo Dragonetti had driven home impatiently and stepped out of the car with a feeling that he couldn’t quite define although he recognised one of the components as excitement. The cat had rushed to greet him as usual and he bent to caress it and pick it up before walking up the stairs. He could hear Vanessa moving about in the kitchen and felt a familiar thump somewhere in the region of his heart. She was back. Deep down he knew he was always just a little afraid she wouldn’t return. He was never quite sure why she loved him and felt an uneasy sense of unworthiness. He stood in the doorway holding the cat.
“Vanessa, what’s that wonderful smell? What are you cooking?”
Vanessa Albright turned at the sound of his voice, “Out of the kitchen, both of you, I’m busy,” she said sternly.
She was looking very business-like. She’d swept her hair away her face and tied it high up at the back of her head. She was wearing a huge apron and wielding a large wooden spoon. An enormous saucepan was bubbling on the hob and Drago could identify the ingredients from the perfume that assailed his nostrils.
“And you didn’t say welcome back,” she added crossly.
“Did I need to? I can come in and kiss you if you like.”
“No way. I know it’s only a ruse to look in the saucepan.”
He laughed. “Alright. Can I get you a drink?”
“No, you can lay the table and choose a wine.”
“Ah, well, to do that I would need to know what we’re eating.”
“Uh uh. I’m not telling you that, but we’ll have white wine.”
He smiled. He’d already identified the principal smell as fresh fish. He hoped it was going to be one of those amazing fish and sea food soups that she sometimes made. He went down to the cool cantina and chose a Soave from the north of Italy. It was dark and cool down here and he enjoyed the contrast to the heat of the day. He lingered a moment looking over his store of wine. Vanessa liked wine as much as he did and he had a good stock.
When he came back he set the bottle to cool even further, laid the table and then lit up another cigarette. His efforts at stopping smoking were as frequent as they were unsuccessful. He was forty-seven and in good health, but his smoking was cause for concern. The strange thing was that whenever he thought about stopping he landed up smoking even more, a reflection of the tension he suffered at the mere thought. Then he would become extremely virtuous and stop completely, chewing frantically on mint chewing gum all day until his jaws ached. This phase could last for up to three weeks but he always succumbed again. At the moment he was nearing the moment when he would try stopping. Consequently, his consumption had abruptly increased.
When Vanessa brought the rich sea food soup to the table he nearly swooned with delight. Shell fish were popped open and heaped on a bed of bread rubbed with garlic. The first spoonful confirmed exactly the right amount of parsley, garlic and red chilli pepper.
“This is wonderful,” he murmured.
“My mother’s recipe.”
“I must meet the woman who taught you how to cook this.”
Vanessa made no reply.
He put his spoon down. “Don’t you want me to meet her?”
“She
“Well, I hope she’ll be grateful to you one day, when she’s old enough to fully understand. You’re getting her out of a stickysituation and the boy is quite unsuitable.”
“We all do silly things at one time or another, the important thing is to realise in time and find a remedy. That’s something I’ve always managed to do, one way or another,” she said with a rather grim smile.
Guido looked across at her and for a brief moment he wondered exactly what she meant.
CHAPTER FIVE
The previous evening, after an interminable week of boredom that increased in intensity every day, Jacopo Dragonetti had driven home impatiently and stepped out of the car with a feeling that he couldn’t quite define although he recognised one of the components as excitement. The cat had rushed to greet him as usual and he bent to caress it and pick it up before walking up the stairs. He could hear Vanessa moving about in the kitchen and felt a familiar thump somewhere in the region of his heart. She was back. Deep down he knew he was always just a little afraid she wouldn’t return. He was never quite sure why she loved him and felt an uneasy sense of unworthiness. He stood in the doorway holding the cat.
“Vanessa, what’s that wonderful smell? What are you cooking?”
Vanessa Albright turned at the sound of his voice, “Out of the kitchen, both of you, I’m busy,” she said sternly.
She was looking very business-like. She’d swept her hair away her face and tied it high up at the back of her head. She was wearing a huge apron and wielding a large wooden spoon. An enormous saucepan was bubbling on the hob and Drago could identify the ingredients from the perfume that assailed his nostrils.
“And you didn’t say welcome back,” she added crossly.
“Did I need to? I can come in and kiss you if you like.”
“No way. I know it’s only a ruse to look in the saucepan.”
He laughed. “Alright. Can I get you a drink?”
“No, you can lay the table and choose a wine.”
“Ah, well, to do that I would need to know what we’re eating.”
“Uh uh. I’m not telling you that, but we’ll have white wine.”
He smiled. He’d already identified the principal smell as fresh fish. He hoped it was going to be one of those amazing fish and sea food soups that she sometimes made. He went down to the cool cantina and chose a Soave from the north of Italy. It was dark and cool down here and he enjoyed the contrast to the heat of the day. He lingered a moment looking over his store of wine. Vanessa liked wine as much as he did and he had a good stock.
When he came back he set the bottle to cool even further, laid the table and then lit up another cigarette. His efforts at stopping smoking were as frequent as they were unsuccessful. He was forty-seven and in good health, but his smoking was cause for concern. The strange thing was that whenever he thought about stopping he landed up smoking even more, a reflection of the tension he suffered at the mere thought. Then he would become extremely virtuous and stop completely, chewing frantically on mint chewing gum all day until his jaws ached. This phase could last for up to three weeks but he always succumbed again. At the moment he was nearing the moment when he would try stopping. Consequently, his consumption had abruptly increased.
When Vanessa brought the rich sea food soup to the table he nearly swooned with delight. Shell fish were popped open and heaped on a bed of bread rubbed with garlic. The first spoonful confirmed exactly the right amount of parsley, garlic and red chilli pepper.
“This is wonderful,” he murmured.
“My mother’s recipe.”
“I must meet the woman who taught you how to cook this.”
Vanessa made no reply.
He put his spoon down. “Don’t you want me to meet her?”
“She
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