Chapter Thirteen #3
Briefly, Jade outlined the meeting. Sheenagh seemed lost for words and kept repeating, ‘Well,’ and, ‘My.’ And, finally, ‘I don’t think you should give her a job, Jade. It won’t be good for you. I’m sure Mairead would be outraged.’
Jade stared up at where the plaster had crazed around the ceiling rose and wondered whether Sheenagh was right on the last point. Though soft of heart, Gran had been tough when necessary.
‘Are you OK? You’ve had one shock after another this summer.’ Sheenagh gave a frustrated growl. ‘I can’t believe her cheek.’
‘Same.’ Jade pictured the thin woman with the pewter-coloured curls, the worn dress and mules, the gaze that had wavered as she’d asked for a job.
The phone number in Gran’s jewellery box.
‘But she’s gone now. How’s everything with you?
It was lovely to see Sofi growing a grandchild for you to love. ’
Sheenagh laughed delightedly. ‘I can’t wait for that wee one to be born!’
Jade listened as her friend babbled about baby gifts and nursery equipment, glad Sheenagh had allowed herself to be diverted. It was great talking things over with your friends . . . but not that useful when they held opposing views. Neither Sheenagh nor Vittoria had provided quite what she wanted.
It was later, past nine-thirty in the evening, when someone rapped on the apartment door.
Jade had been lounging on the faded purple velvet sofa staring at a movie, but seeing Geneva Gallo instead of a dramatic scene at sea.
She ignored the knock. Guests tried the apartment sometimes, rather than comply with the notice asking them to ring the out-of-hours number if there was an issue.
Another knock. She sighed and rolled to her feet.
The caller would have to put up with seeing her off-duty self, with crazy hair, her old shorts and faded yellow sleeveless top.
But, when she opened the door, it was Leo Sartori who waited, hands jammed into the pockets of his khaki shorts. He gave her a blithe smile, as if nothing awkward had ever passed between them.
‘Oh.’ She regarded him. ‘After yesterday evening, I assumed we’d avoid each other until you left for Riva.’
‘I did think you’d tell me not to come if I phoned you first,’ he said candidly. ‘But Mum told me what happened with . . . And I wanted to make sure you’re OK.’
‘I’m OK,’ she answered automatically. Then a hand seemed to squeeze her throat, making her eyes burn and water.
‘Liar,’ he murmured, forehead furrowing. ‘How about I come in for a minute?’
Mutely, she found herself stepping back. When his arm almost brushed against her, it felt like a warm breeze blowing over her skin.
‘How are you doing?’ he asked gently, clearly trying not to penetrate further into the apartment than the small hall.
She gulped. ‘I feel as if I’ve been thrown in a washing machine.’ Her voice emerged as a squeak.
Slowly, he took her hand. Just that. Her hand. But somehow, she swayed forwards and laid her head on his shoulder, her cheek against his cotton T-shirt.
His arms slipped softly around her. ‘What do you want?’ His voice was warm and low. ‘From Geneva, I mean. Mum didn’t seem to know.’
Jade shook her head, feeling the reassuring beat of his heart. ‘I don’t know either. She didn’t ask for money. She didn’t try to excuse herself. She said she needed a job and asked if I would employ her.’
Through her curtain of hair, his hand stroked her back, soothing and familiar. Comforting. ‘Must be hard, Jade. Must have been a shock.’
She shook her head, letting tears ooze from her eyes. Probably they’d carry the day’s mascara down her cheeks and onto his T-shirt, but it was difficult to care. ‘I don’t know what to do. Don’t I have enough to cope with?’
‘You do.’ His hands continued their mesmeric stroking.
She let the tears come – for the loss of Mairead, the gaining of sisters, the shellshock of seeing her mother for the first time – unless her newborn eyes had looked up and registered the woman dumping her on Gran.
Finally, she sniffed and collected herself. ‘Sorry about your T-shirt.’
His shoulder moved beneath her cheek as he shrugged off the apology. ‘Shall I get you a drink? Water? Tea? Whisky?’
She shook her head, still sniffing, disentangled herself to find a tissue, wiped her eyes and blew her nose.
‘No. I need an early night. But thanks for letting me blub all over you.’ She managed a wobbly laugh.
‘I might miss you a bit when you’ve gone.
’ She laughed again, to show him that he shouldn’t read anything into those few stupid words.
He gazed at her for a long moment, eyes unreadable. Then he patted her arm and let himself back out of the apartment door. ‘Buonanotte.’
‘Buonanotte.’ With a last watery smile, she locked up behind him.
Then she closed her eyes and rested her forehead against the white-painted door.
She would miss Leo, because, unlike Vittoria or Sheenagh, he hadn’t tried to influence her.
He’d asked how she felt and tried to understand.
She really would miss him when he’d gone.
But she’d better get used to it, because he was going. Again.