Broken Chord by Margaret Moore Page A

this. It was so ridiculous. Overseeing the work on the villa he’d run into the boy and had allowed himself to get involved in something really stupid, but what was a small peccadillo compared to months of good behaviour, so to speak. He couldn’t believe she wanted to end it, after all he’d done for her. He braked and parked in a lay-by. He was thinking furiously. He’d been an absolute fool. He’d overreacted to her accusations. He should have played a much more subtle hand but he’d been taken so unawares that he’d behaved like an idiot. Could he mend it? Was it possible? Would she accept an abject crawling acknowledgement of his sins and his avowal of sincere unhappiness at the thought of losing her? She needed him. She would come round in the end, but the immediate problem was what to do, where to go, where to sleep that night. Tomorrow he would think about how to make his overtures. He started the car and drove off towards Lucca to look for a hotel. There was no point in driving to his flat in Florence. He wanted to be near to hand. As for Ursula, he’d leave her to cool off for now. It would be pointless to try anything further at the moment. He needed her to calm down. He thought he’d phone her the next day, no, first thing in the morning he would send three dozen red roses and a note declaring his undying love. He smiled. It would be alright, it had to be alright or he’d make the bitch pay for it. He was not without resources and vendetta was always a wonderful dessert after a good meal, and up till now the meal had been excellent.
     
    Marianna was back on her bed but this time she was not weeping and helpless. She’d had a sudden flash of understanding. Ursula, her mother, the bitch, the whore, was maybe something even worse. And Piero, where did he come in all this? A man of so many resources.
    Now she had to get out of the house and go and see Roberto. A whole week of being locked in the house like some prisoner had been a waste of time. Let them try and stop her now. She picked up the phone and called a taxi.
     
    Two hours later Ursula staggered out of bed and had yet another shower. She felt so awful that she stayed there under the gentle spray of cool water until she was actually cold, but at least her head was clearer. The injection that Marta had given her had worked. It had dulled the pain, brought it down to an acceptable level, but as always had left her feeling a little groggy. Now she dressed, took a good hard look at herself, squared her shoulders and opened the door resolutely.
    To her surprise, the house was empty. She walked slowly through the rooms, trying not to jar her head with the movement, and found no-one. Finally, she went slowly down to the kitchen where preparations for dinner were under way. She beckoned Marta out and asked, “Where are they?”
    “Who?”
    “All of them.”
    “Tebaldo has taken the children swimming, Isabella has a migraine, I think Marianna’s in her room and… everyone else is out.”
    “Thank you.” She turned and walked even more carefully back upstairs keeping her head quite still. In the drawing room she picked up a magazine and sat flicking through it until, finally, she heard Teo arriving with the children. They were chattering happily.
    Almost immediately after that a car arrived and for a moment her guts clenched as she thought Guido had come back, but to her surprise it was Marianna who came in. “Where have you been?” she asked abruptly.
    “Out,” replied Marianna heading for the stairs.
    “Whose car was that?”
    “If you must know, it was a taxi.”
    “A taxi! Where have you been?” Marianna ignored her and walked away.
    “Marianna!” she yelled, reawakening the throbbing in her head. “Come back here. I demand to know where you went.” Marianna went up the stairs without replying.
    Ursula fell back in the chair feeling that things were getting out of hand but knew she was incapable of dealing with anything. She put her