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Ian stared at her, and then almost choked with laughter. This side of her was new to him, but she felt no need to conceal it.
Suddenly there was a waiter beside Ian. “Mr. Newton, sir,” he said quietly. When Ian did not hear him, he repeated it with a light touch on the shoulder.
“Yes?” Ian turned to him. “What is it?”
“A telegram for you, sir. It has ‘Urgent’ on it.” He held out a tray with a single printed envelope. “It’s just arrived, sir.”
“Thank you.” Ian picked it up and tore it open. Suddenly, all the joy in his face died. When he looked up at Elena, his eyes were hollow, as if he had been robbed of something precious.
Fear rose inside her, catching her heart, her breath. “What is it?”
“I have to leave. Immediately. I’m…sorry…I can’t explain to you. It would be a breach of trust. Come with me! As far as Paris, at least.” He stopped, perhaps aware of what he was asking of her.
The music and the laughter went on around them, as if nothing had happened.
She thought of Margot, but only for a moment. “As far as Paris?”
“Yes, I have to go on after that. But if you’re going to Paris, and then on to London…please?”
Her answer was instant. “Yes. Of course I will.”
CHAPTER
6
Elena went upstairs and packed, then left a note on Margot’s bed to say that she had decided to leave a day early and travel with Ian as far as Paris, before going to Calais and taking a ferry home. She added that she hoped Margot enjoyed the rest of her stay and then signed it.
Next, she went downstairs and settled her account at the front desk. Ian was tactful enough to wait for her outside, but he was already there and standing at the door of a car, the driv
er at the wheel.
He put her case in the trunk, beside his own, then held the door open while she got in the backseat. A moment later he was beside her and giving the driver instructions to drive to the railway station in Naples.
As if by mutual agreement, they now spoke of all kinds of things, except the reason he had been called away. The only mention of Margot was from Elena: how she had left a note on her sister’s bed, just enough for Margot to know there was no cause to worry. Whether she would be angry was a different matter.
They spoke of the history of Amalfi, the history of the whole coast, especially of Naples, and of course Vesuvius, one of the most dangerous volcanoes in the world. No one had forgotten that when it had erupted two thousand years before, it had destroyed cities in minutes, immortalizing people and animals at their moments of death. It had darkened the sky and sent rivers of burning lava as far as the sea, taking whole villages with it. Today the Neapolitans sang more lyrical music than other people, and danced a little faster, because they knew life could end without warning.
But still they did not speak of why he was leaving.
They reached Naples, paid the driver, and had only a short time to wait for the next express train to Rome, where they would change and connect for Milan, and from there to Paris. They did not plan beyond that. Elena did her best not to think of it.
The train was barely out of the station, and already she missed Naples. She had begun the journey back to reality. Her sense of regret at having left Margot with only a note on her pillow was not deep enough to spoil the warmth of this sense of hope. She liked Ian more than she could recall liking any other man. The more they talked, the more gentleness she found to his character, and it filled her with interest and a sense almost of familiarity, as if she were revisiting happy times.
He was looking out of the window, leaning forward in his seat to catch the part of the skyline where the volcano was. Finally he sat back.
“The very precariousness of it heightens everything?” Elena said, picking up the thread of their earlier conversation, as if it had been only a moment ago. “Yes, I do think so.” She smiled at him.
There was a sudden shadow of memory across his face. Was he thinking of the same things that she was? Young people dancing too close, too fast, intricate steps in perfect time with the music, wishing the song would never end, and knowing it had to?
In her mind, the picture faded and was replaced by Mike on his last leave, tasting every minute, making desperate jokes, laughing too quickly, one minute catching her eyes, the next avoiding them. He could not have known he would never come home again, but like all young men going to war, he must have understood the possibility. He had seen too many of his friends die to avoid it.
“Elena…?” Ian’s voice cut into her reverie.
She looked up. “Sorry…” She blinked hard, aware of the tears in her eyes. “I was…” She did not want to tell him. He would have his own griefs; everyone did.
“It isn’t only Vesuvius, is it?” he said quietly. “It’s everything…”
She looked at him and saw the amazing gentleness in his face. “You would have liked my brother.” She had not meant to say that, but it was too late to take it back. “And I wish I’d been a bit nicer to Margot before I left. She lost her husband the same day Mike died. They’d been married only a week. I think that’s why she…drinks too much and plays too hard…sometimes. If that had happened to me, I might, too.”
