Unknown by Unknown Page B

the air itself. Kate sniffed appreciatively and hung on grimly to Philip, who had spotted a fountain in the middle of the courtyard and wanted to throw himself into it.
    Jerome noticed the sniff. ‘Bergamot,’ he explained. ‘The sweet lime. It’s the main crop in this area, used in perfume and tea among other things, and during the harvest, when the skins are being squeezed to extract the oil, you can smell nothing else. Come inside and meet Constantina, she’ll look after you. Her English is limited, but you’ll manage.’
    Constantina took one look at Philip and ignored everything else. She clapped her hands to her kerchief-covered head in delight and yelled an incomprehensible sentence which ended with the word bambino, and Philip, who even at this early age could recognise a child- worshipper when he saw one, smiled fatly, nodded his dark curls and offered a kiss. Kate watched them go, the little plump old lady, her long black skirts swinging under her white apron, and the little boy skipping at her side. Constantina was chattering as if there was no tomorrow and Philip was basking in adulation.
    Kate walked in through the door very slowly and made polite conversation. ‘It’s warmer here,’ she ventured. ‘Warmer than in England, I mean.’
    Jerome matched her inanity. ‘The average January temperature is fifty degrees Fahrenheit. It’s warmer than that now and this side of Calabria is dryer than the side facing Sicily.’
    ‘And the chief crop is bergamot,’ Kate finished the geography lesson. ‘Is there a bathroom?’ She heard herself make the stiff, polite query and wished frantically that she could be normal and waspish as she followed him up the stairs and watched him put their cases in one room. The bed looked very large and quite modem, and she caught herself on the edge of hysterical laughter. What did it matter what the bed looked like?
    ‘Yes, there is a bathroom.’ Jerome was matter-of-fact. ‘But that’s where the primitive part comes in. There’s no hot water system. The villa is not generally used except during the summer when I find a cold shower sufficient, but Constantina will toil around with jugs of hot water if you like.’
    ‘Oh no!’ she babbled. ‘I wouldn’t dream of asking. It’s not too cold for a cold shower, in fact it will help me to wake up a bit. It’s just that I feel a bit grubby and sticky after the journey.’ At this point her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, she felt tears in her eyes and a painful lump in her throat. ‘I can’t,’ she whispered, while her eyes slid to the bed.
    ‘Welshing on our agreement, Kate?’ He sounded exasperated. ‘It’s no more than I expected. Your face has worn a white martyred look since Saturday. I’ve given you enough time, surely, and so far I’ve not forced you into anything.’
    ‘Yes, you have!’ She flung the words at him. ‘You would have taken Philip away from me.’
    ‘Then we must hope you find Philip worth the—er— sacrifice.’ He was unsympathetic as he abstracted clean clothes from a case and left her alone in their bedroom.
    Within a short while Constantina was tapping at the door. With a very few English words, a few more Italian and a lot of mime, she made Kate understand that Philip had eaten, drunk, been bathed and was now in his bed and sleeping like an angel; that there was a meal ready for the Signor and Signora and that it was all to be eaten, and furthermore, that she, Constantina, was happy! Jerome came in at the end of the monologue and it was all repeated to him, but without the English words or the mime, just a swift torrent of Italian. He smiled at the little woman as she bustled out.
    ‘Did you get all that?’ he enquired lazily.
    ‘Most of it.’ Kate sat down wearily on the bed. ‘Philip’s been bathed, fed and put to bed where he’s now sleeping, we’re to eat all our dinner and Constantina is happy.’
    ‘But my wife is not. Hmm?’ He was harsh. ‘Where’s your