‘I’m sorry I couldn’t give you sand. Pebbles will have to do.’
She followed him down the stairs and onto the pebbles of the private beach, uneven under her ballet flats. In a few spots along the bank there were artfully planted trees. Under one ancient tree sat an outdoor table, chairs.
The magnificent blue of Lake Como lay out in front of her. Mountains framing the scene. The late afternoon sun, warm on her body. A cool breeze caressing her skin. The magic of the scene seemed to unknot her. Her shoulders slowly dropping. Tension in her neck loosening. Matteo kicked off his shoes, walked to the water’s edge and waded in to his calves, overlooking the view as if he ruled the whole lake. She followed to the water’s edge and a shiver ran through her. How it seemed so dark and impenetrable.
‘You coming in?’ he asked.
She’d love to be like him, take off her shoes, throw away caution, but a little voice began whispering in her head.
‘My mother would never have approved.’
Why did that woman still enter her consciousness, always holding her back whenever she wanted something for herself?
‘Why not?’ Matteo asked.
‘Well, for one, germs. She’d say you never knew what lurked in unchlorinated water.’
He snorted. ‘Every day is about risk. Your mother’s not here now.’
No, she wasn’t. Louisa walked to the water’s edge. Took off her shoes, the creamy pebbles cool under her feet. Water lapping the edges just ahead. It all seemed so overwhelming, how fathomless all of this was. It was as if the world shifted under her feet and she was trying to find steady ground.
Then she looked over at Matteo. His patient smile. Somehow, everything seemed to solidify.
‘Come on in,’ he said. Could he see her struggle? Years of conditioning that was sometimes difficult to shake. Her dress brushed at her calves. It might get wet, though she supposed she could hold it up. There were so many decisions...
Matteo walked back towards her, the water sluicing around his legs till he was only ankle deep. ‘I’m warning you, it’s probably a bit cold given the lake’s fed by the mountains. But you’ll like it—’
‘I don’t know how to swim.’
The words simply blurted out of her. It seemed like such a huge failing. Another thing her mother had stopped her from doing.
‘What if I’m not there when you’re swimming, and you drown?’
Always so much fear. Louisa hadn’t understood at the time, but now she believed it had less to do with love and more to do with control. Her mother had never stopped to think that the greatest risk to Louisa’s health was not knowing how to save herself. Or maybe she hadn’t really cared.
Matteo frowned. ‘You don’t know...’
His voice was incredulous, drifting off as if he couldn’t even finish the sentence.
‘How to swim.’ Her voice, in contrast, sounded firm, because she wasn’t broken. Not many people knew how much she’d endured, what it had taken to survive. She just needed to convince herself of that strength, some days.
Sunlight glittered on the water’s surface. It looked so inviting, if she could forget the fears that plagued her when faced with something new.
‘The water’s shallow here. There’s no drop off. Take my hand.’
She hesitated. Matteo held out his arm, palm up. That gentle, encouraging smile still warming his face.
‘I won’t let you fall.’
She looked down at her feet, toes so close to the water. Took a deep breath. Hitched her dress into her underwear as something about Matteo’s gaze darkened, melted. Then she reached out, his warm fingers clasped about her own as he gently guided her to him. At the first touch of the icy water on her feet she sucked in a breath, her heart skipping in her chest as he drew her close.
Not into his arms as she had been earlier in the day when they’d first arrived. In that moment when his body had felt so hard and solid. Initially she was just trying to be thankful till it morphed into something else. Something she refused to give voice to but would keep her up late in the dark of her own bedroom. Fuel for the drawings only she would ever see in that secret sketchbook. Her fantasies, where they’d always remain. How could there be a reality with him? She could never forget he was the enemy.
Yet why did she feel as if he was turning into something else?
Matteo squeezed her fingers. ‘Not so bad?’
She shook her head. There was no bad in this moment. It was all good. Really good. Something bubbled up inside her, an unusual sensation. Joy. A sense of freedom. Like when she’d been a child and sent to Mae’s. Even though her father was ill she’d used to play in the stream on the grounds of Easton Hall. Especially the summer Matteo came to stay too. She’d had no fears then, not really. At the time she hadn’t understood her father was going to die. She was a child who wanted to forget that her dad was sick, and her mum wasn’t emotionally available.
