‘Go,’ he said. ‘I will order that the doors are opened for you.’
She backed away from him, refusing to touch the money and saying wildly, ‘Oh, yes? Where am I? Where do I go? What do I do? You’re just playing with me, and you should be ashamed.’
Holly could tell she’d taken him by surprise. There was a flash of anger, then he nodded.
‘I admire your courage, signorina. Foolhardy but admirable.’
‘Perhaps it is you who is being foolhardly,’ she snapped, not appeased. ‘You took me into your house, and all you know about me is that I’m on the run.’
‘But you’ve assured me that you’re innocent.’
‘Well, I would say that, wouldn’t I?’ she hurled at him. ‘It was a pack of lies to protect myself. How would you know the difference?’
‘Maria vergine! If you imagine that you could deceive me for a moment, you’re mistaken. If I didn’t think your worst fault was incredible naivety I would never allow you near my daughter.’
Her antagonism died. He’d read her correctly. Naivety was the kindest word for her.
‘Now, can we stop fencing and start being practical?’ he continued. ‘I want you to stay here as a companion to Liza. Berta does an excellent job caring for her, but she can’t give her what she really needs, the thing that only you can give her.
‘It’s clear that she sees you as a connection with her mother. You’re English, you can speak the language with her as her mamma did, and that will comfort her until she’s ready to let go. If you can do that, there may be something I can do for you. Is it a deal?’
‘Yes,’ she said, dazed. ‘It’s a deal.’
‘Good, then it’s all settled.’
‘Not quite. How long do you see this arrangement lasting?’
He frowned, as if puzzled by the question.
‘For as long as I say,’ he replied at last.
Of course, she thought wryly. What else?
‘Now, to details,’ he continued briskly. ‘As far as anyone else is concerned you’re a distant relative of my wife, paying us a visit. Liza calls you Holly, but I see from your passport that your name is Sarah.’
‘Yes. Holly’s a nickname that my mother gave me when I was five. I put a bit of holly in her bed one Christmas.’
‘It’s useful. Since the police are looking for Sarah Conroy, you won’t attract attention.’
‘But if they keep looking-’
‘That train was their best chance and they fumbled it,’ he said with a shrug. ‘Now let us be practical. Take this money. It’s your first week’s wages. You’ll be paid in cash because the less paperwork the better. Is there anything in your purse that has your real name?’
‘A credit card.’
‘Let me see.’
As soon as she produced it he took it from her and cut it up.
‘Hey!’ she cried indignantly.
‘Anything that connects you with your real name is dangerous.’
‘If I’m prepared to take that risk-’
‘But you might reflect that the risk isn’t only for yourself.’
The words were lightly spoken but they made her pause. He was a judge, concealing a woman fleeing the law. She wasn’t the only one in danger.
‘You need clothes,’ he continued. ‘Sit down over there.’ He indicated an extra, smaller desk by the wall, on which stood a laptop computer, connected to the internet.
‘You’re online to a store in Rome,’ he said. ‘Go through it and select some items, then I’ll arrange for them to be delivered.’
She could see that it was open at women’s wear, and connected to an account in his name. All she had to do was add things to the shopping basket. Slowly she began to go through the pages, trying to believe what she was seeing. This was the most expensive store she’d ever come across. Just looking at the prices made her eyes cross.
She grew even more distracted studying the clothes. Underwear, dresses-everything seemed to be made of silk. It was intimidating.
‘I’m really looking for something a little more ordinary,’ she said. ‘More like me.’
‘You call yourself ordinary?’ he enquired.
‘Well, look at me.’
‘I am. You make nothing of yourself. You are tall and slim-’
‘Skinny, you mean. And flat-chested. Like a board.’
‘Give me patience! Is that any way for a woman to talk? There are women modelling on the catwalk shaped exactly like you, and all you can do is run yourself down.’
‘I’m not running myself down,’ she said huffily. ‘I’m being realistic. I’m no beauty.’
‘Did I say you were?’
She gaped. ‘You said-’
‘I said you had a shape you should make the best of, but you don’t think that way. You say “thin” when you should say “slim”. Your mind-set is askew.’
‘Well, pardon me for thinking incorrectly. Obviously an Italian woman would do better, but I can’t help being the wrong nationality.’
‘You must learn not to put words into my mouth. Don’t blame your nationality. My wife was also English, and she was as conscious of herself and the effect she made as any Italian woman. It’s something in here.’ He tapped his forehead.
‘Oh, I’m conscious of the effect I make,’ she said, in a sudden temper. ‘Homely is the word. And that’s the kind version.’
‘No woman with a twenty-two-inch waist is ever homely,’ he retorted.
‘And my face? It’s nothing.’
‘All right, it’s nothing,’ he conceded. ‘That’s better than being bad.’
‘Homely,’ she repeated, raising her voice. ‘Look, it’s my face, I know more about it than you do.’
Why were they having this quarrel? It had sprung up from nowhere and made no sense. But from the deep well of tangled emotions inside her came a tension that had to release itself somehow. So she had turned on him.
Something in his eyes told her it was the same with him. His nerves were as taut as her own, and he too had exploded irrationally.
‘I doubt if you know much about it,’ he said now, ‘or about the person behind it.’
‘I know her all right,’ she said with bitter emphasis. ‘She was so used to being a little brown mouse that she fell for the first pack of lies she was told by a man. There’s nothing else to know.’
He didn’t reply at once, but considered her for a while before saying slowly, ‘I doubt that’s true. You’ve never explored the possibilities, so try to see your face as a blank canvas on which you will write whatever you want to.’
‘Is that what your wife did?’
His mouth twisted, though whether with humour or with pain she couldn’t have said.
‘Now you mention it, yes. She wasn’t a great beauty, but she could make every man believe that she was. When she walked into a room, heads turned.’
‘And you didn’t mind?’
‘No, I-I was proud of her.’
‘But I’m not her. I could never be like that.’
‘Nobody could ever be like her. Now, let us return to business.’
His tone had become practical again, like that of a man announcing to a meeting that it was time for the next item on the agenda.
‘In this house you’ll need a decent wardrobe, so forget the kind of thing you’re used to and choose clothes that will help you fit in with…’ He made a gesture indicating the luxurious surroundings. ‘Please hurry up, I have a lot of work to get on with.’
The last of the tension was diffused. She could concentrate on the screen and even enjoy the dizzying array of delightful garments that danced before her.
‘Do the job properly,’ was his only comment as he seated himself at the other desk.
He had prepared everything efficiently, accessing the English version of the site and calling up a conversion table showing both English and continental sizes.
Her puritanical self made one last effort, pointing out remorselessly that cheap materials had always sufficed in the past. But then she told it to shut up and let her concentrate. After that it was easy.