Again she half rose to go, glancing at her watch.
‘
Will you stay down here in Capri and have dinner with me?
’
‘
Thank you, but I ought to be getting back to my father,
’
she replied hurriedly.
‘
Why? He
’
s no worse than usual, is he? There
’
s no emergency?
’
She shook her head.
‘
Another time, perhaps. Besides, the Marchettis have a guest, Cristoforo Turriani.
’
Kent Sanderby leaned back in his chair and laughed.
‘
Oh, that chap Cristo! I
’
ll bet if he stays a week, he
’
ll tell you that he loves you better every day and that your eyes are the most ravishing he
’
s ever seen.
’
‘
You know him then?
’
‘
I should think everyone between here and Milan knows him. He can
’
t resist a new girl, whoever she is.
’
‘
Thank you
!’
she said coldly.
Her reply sent Kent Sanderby off again into hilarious laughter. When he could speak, he muttered quietly,
‘
So he
’
s already made passes at you! When did he arrive?
’
Her sudden flare of anger died as she saw the humorous side of the situation and she gave a quiet chuckle.
‘
Yesterday.
’
‘
Then that
’
s it. You can at least escape him for one evening. Besides, if you like to look at it that way, you can consider that I owe you some compensation for injuries received on my property. Will you stay?
’
‘
I shall have to telephone my father, so that he knows where I am, or he
’
ll be worrying.
’
As she went inside the cafe to telephone, she marvelled at herself for agreeing so easily to his suggestion. She told her father that she would not be home for dinner.
‘
I
’
m dining with Mr. Sanderby,
’
she explained.
‘
You met him the other day. You don
’
t mind, do you?
’
‘
Certainly not. Enjoy yourself. You need an evening off occasionally. Go dancing somewhere if you want to. There
’
s no need to hurry back.
’
‘
But listen, Father. Better not to tell Signora Marchetti or Carla. I don
’
t really like acting so underhand, but there
’
s no need to make trouble. You understand?
’
‘
Of course, my dear. I won
’
t say a word. Trust me.
’
When she rejoined Mr. Sanderby, she regretted that she had acted so impulsively and unwisely. She could easily have refused his invitation without offence. Now she felt that she had committed herself to a policy of defiance against the Marchettis.
‘
That
’
s right,
’
Kent said.
‘
You mustn
’
t let the Marchettis dictate to you and decide your friends for you.
’
He had put into words something of her own vague motives. Yet already she sensed the rumblings of a miniature Vesuvius which would erupt and involve her in disaster.
Kent chose a restaurant in one of the narrow streets leading from the piazza. Behind the tiny facade was a small courtyard with white walls covered in vines and morning glory and other trailing and climbing plants with fiery blossoms.
Although at the Villa Stefano Althea had been able to sample a wide range of Italian dishes which might not so easily have been discovered in the average hotel, the meal which Kent ordered was a revelation to her.
‘
I take it that you haven
’
t an English addiction to the
bistecca
,’
he teased her when they studied the menu.
‘
Even if you have, I
’
d advise you to avoid it and give the local food a chance.
’
‘
Signora Marchetti
’
s cook is most competent indeed and would never dream of serving a
bistccca
.
’
‘
Which wouldn
’
t be anything remotely resembling a beef steak as we know it. Now what about
piccate
? They
’
re little squares of veal in a Marsala sauce. Or we could begin with a nice varied hors d
’
oeuvre, then try some local fish like
moscardim
.
’
‘
I leave it all to you to choose,
’
she said,
‘
but don
’
t stuff me with too much spaghetti or I shan
’
t be able to eat anything else.
’
This little restaurant evidently specialised in local Capri or Neapolitan dishes and Althea found herself eating through numerous courses of paper-thin ham with figs, spaghetti with mussels, followed by some unknown kind of mushroom cooked in vine leaves. At the end she decided against a sweet, but enjoyed the delicious
stracchino
cheese.
‘
Did you like what you ate?
’
Kent asked when they were finishing the dry white Capri wine.
‘
It was all delicious,
’
she assured him.
‘
Thank you.
’
‘
I hope I
’
ve repaid the injury to your arm. Is it better now?
’
‘
It was only a graze in the first place.
’
He ordered some liqueurs and lit a long thin cigar.
‘
You wanted to know something about the opera—if I can call it that—which I
’
m working on.
’
‘
Only if you want to tell me.
’
He grinned at her.
‘
I think I
’
ll reserve it for some future occasion when possibly I could use it as a bribe.
’
‘
A bribe? How?
’
‘
I might want you to agree to so
mething
or other and I could use the description as a
quid pro quo
.
’
‘
I think it
’
s an unlikely exchange,
’
she returned.
‘
Perhaps Carla would respond better—or does she know all about it?
’
‘
She knows about the two previous ones I
’
ve done, but not this new one. The others were based on old stories, but this time I want to weave some of the local legends into a concoction. You know, of course, that several Mediterranean
islands, Capri especially, were the original homes of the Sirens.
’
‘
Yes, I think I
’
ve read that.
’
‘
Mermaids, too. All these caves and grottoes must have been full of seductive witches only too ready to seize unwary sailors and other travellers. I haven
’
t worked out yet the exact lines of the story, but I shall come to that later.
’
‘
And have you promised to let Carla sing one of the parts if and when your opera is produced?
’
He slanted a mocking glance at her.
‘
I
’
m not sure if I care for that
“
if and when
”
. My previous operas have been presented, even though one was done by an amateur company in Liverpool and the other had a one-night stand as part of a bill in Birmingham. These places may not be in the same operatic league as Covent Garden or La Scala, but it
’
s something to get them staged at all.
’
‘
I apologise then for doubting your abilities.
’
She judged him arrogant and lacking in modesty about his work, although as she had not freely mixed with the world of musicians and composers, she supposed they were probably all alike.
‘
A most insincere apology,
’
he commented.
‘
You
’
d be glad to hear eventually that the new work was a flop. It would serve me right for being so ambitiously confident. It would carve me down to size.
’
She could do no more than laugh at the exact way in which he read her thoughts, but even that made her uneasy. This was not the kind of man to whom one longed to be transparent.
He knocked the ash off his cigar.
‘
They were both flops, those two earlier operas,
’
he admitted.
‘
Satisfied?
’
‘
Not particularly. But their failures may have taught you something so that you can make this new one a success.
’
‘
Diplomatically spoken! Oh, I can see, Althea—I hope I may call you by your very attractive name—I can see that you
’
re going to have a most restraining influence on me. Whenever I get over-excited or carried away by an aria with a thrilling top C, you
’
ll bring me down to earth.
’
‘
I doubt if I shall be around to serve that purpose,
’
she
answered drily.
‘
Why? Are you leaving Capri soon?
’
‘
No. Not as far as I know, but if you
’
re not a welcome
visitor to the Marchettis
’
villa
—’
‘
You
’
re welcome at my house. Bring Carla with you if you feel the need of a chaperone, although I have an old crone to cook a meal or two for me. But don
’
t let Carla persuade you into midnight visits.
’
‘
D
’
you think she would?
’
she queried.
‘
That girl is ripe for any lark,
’
he murmured darkly.
‘
Then don
’
t encourage her by promises you might not want to keep.
’
‘
Such as
?’
‘
Singing in your operas, for instance. It
’
s doubtful whether her mother would allow her to go off on that kind of career. Signora Marchetti refuses to let Carla go to Naples for singing lessons.
’
‘
M
’
m,
’
he murmured.
‘
Come on, let
’
s go.
’
He paid the bill and walked with her out to the narrow streets and towards the piazza.
‘
We may be too late,
’
he muttered.
‘
Too late for what?
’
she queried, hurrying to keep up with his long stride.
‘
Seeing the sunset from the terrace at the piazza.
’
They threaded through the jostling crowd and came out in the irregular square as the sun was sinking and the island of Ischia was silhouetted against a blaze of glowing colour.
‘
One of the most lovely sights this island can produce,
’
Kent murmured.
‘
It never fails to fascinate me.
’
Althea stood in silence beside him, unwilling to utter some triviality, yet uncertain as to whether he saw only the natural beauty before him or was viewing its magnificence in terms of theatrical backcloths.