Island of Mermaids (16 page)

‘
Is she ever going to get as far as professional opera?
’

Kent was silent for a minute or so while he lit a long thin cigar.
‘
No, I don
’
t think so. She has a good, flexible light
-
opera voice, but she has neither the power nor the temperament for La
Bohème
or Butterfly.
’

‘
Does she know this herself?
’

He laughed.
‘
She pretends she has the makings of a great star, but she doesn
’
t really believe it. Marriage and a couple of nice children are going to be much more in her line.
’

The word
‘
marriage
’
struck coldly at Althea and she no longer wanted to pursue the subject.

‘
We shall come to the famous Villa San Michele soon,
’
he told her.
‘
Have you explored it yet?
’

‘
Yes, although only a brief visit with my father. I
’
d like to see it again.
’

As they walked through this lovely villa something caught at Althea
’
s senses, easing the dull aches and piercing jabs of the afternoon. It was impossible not to be influenced by the peaceful atmosphere which surrounded this exquisite home built by Axel Munthe, the Swedish doctor who worked and dreamed for most of his lifetime of rebuilding and restoring an ancient ruin, then filled it with antiquities and treasures, some of them even rescued from the sea.

‘
Wonderful old man,
’
murmured Kent.
‘
He called it his
“
temple to the sun
”
and it
’
s a good name.
’

In every alcove of the long sculpture loggia were busts and statues of marble or bronze; the end of the pergola seemed poised precariously over the sea and here Kent and Althea sat for a few quiet moments on the wide semi-circular seat.

‘
What a colossal task it must have been to build a place like this
!’
she murmured, lost in the dream-world of beauty.

‘
You
’
re resting on the site of one of old Tiberio
’
s villas,
’
Kent said.
‘
When he died they threw all his palaces into the sea, but some of those slabs of coloured marble we
’
ve walked on here were once trodden by the Emperor
’
s noble feet, nearly two thousand years ago.
’
He turned to look at her.
‘
That should give you a sense of perpetuity, make you realise how short and insignificant our puny lives are.
’

She nodded without speaking, for words would sound feeble when below the precipitous cliffs the murmur of the sea had spoken with many voices, calm and angry, through eternity.

When she and Kent arrived at the red granite sphinx, he said.
‘P
ut your hand on the sphinx and make a wish. They say it has magical properties for those who wish from the heart.
’

His tone of voice caused her to glance swiftly at his face. He was gazing at the mysterious Egyptian sphinx and his expression was serious and thoughtful, almost sombre. Then he turned his head and his intensely blue eyes met hers for an instant before she lowered her lids, unable to sustain that compelling regard that melted
her bones and undermined her will-power.

What did she imagine she saw in Kent
’
s eyes? What had she revealed in her own? She put her hand on the smooth dome of the sphinx
’
s head, polished now by the caress of many hands, and made a wish, one that was not expressed in silent words, but no more than a half-formed, incoherent thought in which Kent, love and happiness were mingled.

Kent placed his hand over her own, then slid it to the sphinx
’
s back. He smiled at her, then abruptly moved away, but he was still grasping her hand in his own as he guided her towards the exit.

‘
Don
’
t you want to know what I wished?
’
he asked after a few moments.

‘
No, indeed,
’
she said hurriedly, almost putting her hand over his mouth.
‘
Don
’
t tell—or it won
’
t come true.
’

‘
I
’
d no idea you were so superstitious,
’
he jeered.
‘
I thought you were too hard-headed and matter-of-fact for such notions.
’

‘
Everyone has her own inconsistencies,
’
she retorted.
‘
That
’
s why one says,
“
Oh, I should never have believed it of her
”
when some unexpected incident takes place.
’

When they walked through the village towards the Villa Stefano, Kent said suddenly,
‘
What was it you were telling me about Carla? That she
’
s forbidden to leave the house?
’

She laughed at this show of ignorance. He remembered perfectly well, she had no doubt at all.

‘
Not quite. You
’
re the one who
’
s forbidden to visit Stefano.
’

‘
And the lessons in Naples?
’

‘
Not without a reliable chaperone,
’
answered Althea.
‘
If I can
’
t go or can
’
t be ordered to act as duenna, then probably Mamma herself will go and escort her capricious daughter.
’

‘
I see,
’
he said airily, then added,
‘
Well, you
’
ll have to let me know when they
’
re both out of the way, so that I can come and hobnob with your father. He says he wants further advice about the projected shop.
’

‘
I can see I
’
m going to be kept ful
ly occupied as a messenger girl.’

‘
There are classical precedents. Think of Iris tripping across her rainbow with all those messages from the gods.
’

‘
You have it wrong,
’
she told him firmly.
‘
The gods sent Mercury with peaceful commands and Iris when they meant trouble. You
’
d better make up your mind which kind I
’
m to be.
’

‘
Oh, you
’
ll be both by turn whenever it suits you,
’
was his reply as they arrived at the gates of Villa Stefano and he took his leave.

It was almost dinner-time when Althea reached her room, but she was in such a rapturous mood that she was reluctant to shower, and change her dress. She flung herself on her bed and stared ecstatically at the ceiling as though that would answer her wild questions. Was Kent beginning to love her? Or was he merely idling the time with her to draw attention away from the fact that he wanted Carla?

The atmosphere at dinner that evening astonished Althea. Though it was only this morning when Emilia had abused her daughter and raised Cain over the matter of singing at a cafe, all was now apparently sweetness and light. Carla betrayed no touch of sulkiness but was animated and gay, Emilia was her gracious but lively self and Lawrence full of chatter and anecdotes. Althea wondered whether the benign influence of her visit to San Michele was now enabling her to view everyone through rose-coloured spectacles, but eventually decided that the other three must have come to better terms during the afternoon.

Whatever the reason, she was relieved that the tension was over. For some time after dinner Lawrence and Emilia and the two girls sat on the terrace until the two older people withdrew into the salon.

‘
Your mother seems to have recovered her good temper since this morning,
’
Althea remarked idly.

Carla laughed.
‘
Oh, Mamma
’
s bad moods do not last long.
’
She flung herself back in her chair and clasped her hands behind her beautiful dark hair.
‘
Now everything is coming right for all of us.
’

‘
How many of us?
’
queried Althea, smiling at her own not too despondent thoughts.

‘
Now you can see that Kent and I will become one couple.
’
Althea remained silent. Was Carla entitled to be so sure of Kent? But the girl was already rattling on with her neat plans of everyone
’
s future.

‘
Then there is Cristo for you, Althea.
’

‘
Oh no!
’
Althea was quick enough to refute this unwelcome suggestion.

‘
Cristo is quite pleasant when you know him well, and in Rome you would have a lovely life if you were married to him.
’

‘
I certainly don
’
t want to marry him, nor do I want to live in Rome,
’
asserted Althea.

Carla looked disappointed.
‘
Oh well, perhaps not, but I thought it might be so nice, with me married to the Englishman and you marrying an Italian.
’

‘
We can
’
t all marry men of some other nationality just to please you, Carla,
’
Althea pointed out.

‘
No,
’
the other girl said thoughtfully. Then, as a new thought occurred to her,
‘
Perhaps you would prefer the Englishman who is the artist? He is quite nice. Not very handsome, true, but he looks kind. Has he fallen in love with you yet?
’

Althea laughed at this naive question.
‘
I
’
ve no idea. I haven
’
t asked him.
’

‘
Oh, I could do that for you,
’
offered Carla.

‘
Oh, please don
’
t!
’
Althea was extremely opposed to any interference from Carla, however kindly meant.

‘
You are most awkward!
’
Carla grumbled.
‘
You are spoiling my nice plans.
’

‘
Sorry. What plans?
’

Carla paused before replying, as though she were being careful to choose the right words. Then,
‘
Have you not guessed that your father would like to marry my mother?
’

Althea sat up straight and leaned towards the other girl.

‘
My father?
’
she echoed.

‘
He likes Mamma very much, and she is very
simpatica
towards him.
’

Althea now had no words to comment on this new possibility.

‘
You would be offended. Why?
’
demanded Carla.

‘
No, not offended. Just very surprised.
’

‘
But sometimes you have thought that your father might marry again, have you not? Suppose you are married, then who would look after him? He is not old and ho is too nice to be left to a cook or a housekeeper.
’

‘
Yes, I can see that point of view.
’

‘
Then there is my mother,
’
continued Carla.
‘
She also is not old and—if you will forgive me—she is still pretty, even though she is plump. My father died three years ago, nearly four years now. It is not disrespectful that Mamma does not wish to live to be seventy without another man to help her sometimes with her problems and look after her.
’

Althea mustered a smile of part reassurance.
‘
All these reasons are very good ones. It
’
s just that I
’
d never thought about the possibility.
’

‘
Then that was because your father, Lorenzo, had never met anyone who was suitable until he met Mamma. Oh, I am now very glad that you have both come to Capri, for you see, I shall have a new father and one who is charming. Also, Althea, Mamma would be a kind and loving second mother to you. I know it is many years that you have been without your mother.
’