Free Shadows of the Past by Margaret Blake Page B

exaggerated — and she was older than Alva had imagined her to be. Her black hair was obviously dyed and there was a pinched look about her eyes, yet when she smiled the woman exuded warmth and enthusiasm.
    ‘My favourite client,’ she murmured, ‘has returned. Welcome, Contessa.’
    It occurred to Alva that the woman probably said the same thing to every one of her customers yet she did not care. The warmth the woman exuded boosted her self-esteem and she willingly gave herself over to her.
    There was only one dress really and they both agreed on it. Others were tried but Alva and Paola came back to the first one. Midnight blue — a bustier top, falling away to a full skirt. The dark colour was set off by her creamy skin, the bustier emphasized the smallness of her waist and the skirt swirled elegantly around her hips. ‘Midnight blue is your colour. Of course blondes look wonderful in black but this is so flattering for you, Contessa.’
    Buoyed up by the woman’s obvious honesty, she purchased the dress, and then checked her watch before making her way to where the launch had dropped her.
    The sun was sinking over the horizon in a bright orange ball. The burning streaks across the sky were reflected on the blue sea, making it look as if it was on fire. Alva paused for a moment to drink in the view. Across the bay, the island could be seen rising out of the water in a blaze of golden light; it was a spectacular sight.
    She saw the boat; someone was standing on the quay alongside it. Someone taller than Antonio. She crossed the road to the quayside and only as she drew near did she realize it was not a stranger. The man standing by the boat was her husband, Count Mazareeze himself.
    He had to have heard her heels striking the pavement, for he turned. He smiled a greeting. Even in the wine-coloured cashmere shirt, he looked elegant, cream chinos had never looked as good as they did on him. He did not need the posing accessory of a sweater tied around him, or aviator sunglasses on his head, he just looked good in anything. He possessed an effortless elegance that, she knew, would always steal her breath.
    ‘This is a surprise.’
    ‘I had something else for Antonio to do; besides I had someone to see in town. Come aboard.’
    He held out his hand and she took it, stepping on to the deck with as much elegance as she could muster. He took her bag from her. Like Paola’s windows, the bag was stylish, black and shiny, tiny gold name in the top comer. There was nothing garish about Paola’s marketing.
    ‘I won’t peek.’
    ‘You’d better not. You have to trust both our judgements.’
    ‘I do,’ he smiled down at her. It seemed a long time since she had seen him smile like that. It had not been while she had been in Italy; remarkably she knew she remembered it from before. There were little breaks of light in the darkness but she said nothing to him about them. It was too soon and she did not want either of them to feel optimistic. There had to be brighter chinks of light before she shared them with him.
    He went to the wheel and started the boat’s engine. She did not follow him but sat just outside the cabin admiring the play of scarlet ribbons across the turquoise water. Halfway across the stretch of water, she turned back and looked at the town. The sun was casting red streaks of light over the honey-coloured buildings, dancing across the terracotta roofs.
    ‘This is so beautiful,’ she called to Luca. He turned and looked at her.
    ‘Yes, it is, very beautiful.’
    Something in the way he said it made her catch her breath. Did he really mean the town? He could not have been referring to her , yet if he was not why had he looked at her in that way. In what way? Her mind teased. As if he liked what he saw, a little voice echoed through her, very much. Nonsense, he does not care for me, he cannot forgive me for what he thinks I did. He is being nice because he wants something from me. And will you give him what