She knew she would hear it first-hand soon but if it was true, if they really were about to wed, then there was one thing she could do other than pace their tiny apartment, trying not to dwell on a night that had taken place five years ago.
She went through to the small kitchen, knelt under the table and pulled out two bricks and then put her hand in.
Oh, she had done her best not to touch the money she had saved for her mother’s stone but sometimes it was a matter of taking care of the living and Bella wanted to help her friend in the best way she knew how.
Bella headed to the market and to her favourite stall, where she spoke at length with the owner as she examined the bundles of fabric and the little boxes of beads.
‘This is beautiful,’ Bella said, running her hand over a length of ivory tulle that was affordable but they both knew she was trying to convince herself for her eyes kept going to the back of the stall and a roll of fabric that was close to four times the price of the one she was looking at. ‘Let me see that one again,’ she said.
It was chiffon, the texture similar to that of the engagement dress she had once made for Sophie, though that had been a cotton chiffon and this was in silk. And that had been coral. This, though, was a parchment white.
‘It would be very difficult to work with,’ Bella said, still trying to dissuade herself from spending so much, ‘and I don’t have much time.’
There would be no time for beading, Bella thought, but then again her best work had been the most simple cuts. And the challenge of working with such an exquisite fabric, to create for a relatively small price a dress that might cost thousands, even tens of thousands in a bridal store, had her heart beating with excitement.
The thought of making, with love, a wedding dress for her friend fulfilled a long-ago promise. Oh, Bella had thought she would be rich by then, a famous seamstress who people flocked to. She laughed for a moment, remembering sitting at their secret cove at home, looking out across the water. Bella would be rich and famous and Sophie was going to sail the seas, working on the cruise liners.
Life had seemed a lot simpler then.
She would do this for her friend, Bella decided. Even if the wedding was a fake one, Bella knew that Sophie’s heart resided with Luka.
And, Bella knew, as the stallholder cut out the required length, this might be her one and only truly luxurious creation—she was snared in the poverty trap, sewing together other’s cast-offs, whereas this would the first piece of clothing that she had made from scratch in years.
Bella bought oil for her small sewing machine and silk thread as well as needles and tissue paper and then raced home.
She set to work in the bedroom, cutting out the pattern from memory. Sophie was curvy, a little more full in the bust and hips than she had been at eighteen, but Bella allowed for that.
She ached to cut into the fabric but she forced herself to be patient. Measure twice, cut once wasn’t going to work here, but at the very least she could get started on the skirt. Finally, that night, the first cut was made, her scissors slicing through the sheer fabric until the beginning of a dress was born—the fabric, like huge tulip petals, was still pinned to paper but its beauty was starting to emerge when she heard the rattle of the security gate and Sophie’s voice.
‘Sophie...’
Bella came out of the bedroom and hugged her teary friend as soon as she stumbled into the apartment.
‘Luka says that he wished he’d never loved me,’ Sophie sobbed, and she told Bella far more than Matteo had. ‘He’s going to jilt me.’
And though Bella would have loved to linger on her own problems, there were times when a friend, no matter how badly your own heart was bleeding, needed you to help with the gaping wound in theirs. Her own problems could wait for now, she decided.
Sophie was leaving tomorrow for Bordo Del Cielo to be jilted in front of the town, and to add to things her father was dying.
Yes, Bella put her own problems aside.
‘I had an argument with my father,’ Sophie wept. ‘He wants me to wear my mother’s wedding dress and I said no. I don’t want a marriage like theirs.’
Never had Bella been happier to spend her savings for the smile she gave her friend then. ‘I’m already making your wedding dress.’ She told her that she would be working on it through the night. ‘I’m going to be there with you, Sophie.’
‘No.’ Sophie shook her head. ‘You have to work, and anyway...’
‘Anyway?’
‘Matteo will be there and...’
‘I know that he has a woman,’ Bella said. ‘And I know that she is stunning. I’d love to come and be your bridesmaid, Sophie. And don’t worry about work—as of this morning I am suspended.’
‘Bella?’
‘I got in a lot of trouble,’ she explained with a slightly mischievous smile. ‘I spilt an ice bucket on a guest’s lap when I was delivering the breakfasts to the room.’
‘An ice bucket?’
‘It was mainly cold water. I tripped but his girlfriend kicked up a fuss and called for the manager. It was a simple accident. The room was dark. I didn’t see him—or rather they didn’t hear me come in with breakfast. They were otherwise engaged.’
Sophie looked up at the sound of venom and mischief in Bella’s voice and her mouth actually gaped for a moment before she spoke.
‘You threw a bucket of iced water over Matteo?’
‘I did.’ Bella grinned. ‘So, you see, now I am free to be at your wedding and I’m going to work on your wedding dress tonight. Sophie, you’re going to be the most beautiful bride.’
She would be.
Bella took a lot of measurements as they chatted. Paulo’s house had been part of Malvolio’s estate and was now owned by Luka. ‘He’s given it back to my father,’ Sophie said. ‘Well, at least that is what he has said to him. Who knows what will happen when my father is dead? For now, though, it is good that he thinks he has a home.’
‘I want to see my old home,’ Bella said. ‘I’m sure it has people living there now but I might knock and ask if they will let me come in, or at least take some cuttings from the garden. She loved her flowers so much.’
It was good to have her friend back in the apartment but a strained Sophie, now she had relaxed a little and confided in her friend, could barely keep her eyes open.
‘Go to sleep,’ Bella said.
‘We fly at seven,’ Sophie said. ‘On his luxury jet.’
‘So we will return to Bordo Del Cielo in style.’ Bella smiled. ‘You just try and rest for now, we don’t want the bride to have bags under her eyes and ruin my dress.’
Sophie smiled but then it changed into a yawn. ‘Are you nervous to see Matteo?’ she asked.
‘Not really,’ Bella lied. ‘We have already spoken. He took me to some fancy restaurant for breakfast this morning.’ Bella gave a tight smile. ‘He still thinks I’m a whore.’
‘I hope you put him right!’
Bella shook her head.
‘Bella?’
‘It was fine.’ She squeezed her friend’s hand. ‘Don’t worry about me right now. We’ll get through the next few days, we’ve been through worse.’
‘But you and Matteo...’
‘Matteo and I can never be,’ Bella said.
She hadn’t even told her friend the full truth.
‘But—’
‘Get some sleep,’ Bella interrupted. ‘I don’t want to talk about Matteo now.’
She didn’t want to think about him either.
She didn’t want to look back at that time.
Neither did Matteo.
As Bella sat sewing, not far away Matteo was speaking to his assistant, who had adjusted his itinerary. The company jet was being used by Luka so he had had his assistant book his trips. Tomorrow mid-morning he was taking a helicopter to Bordo Del Cielo and it would bring him back to Rome at seven on the Sunday night and then he would fly to Dubai on Monday morning.
‘One thing,’ she checked. ‘Will you be coming back to the same hotel on Sunday night?’
He was about to say no, but then remembered that Bella was to be a bridesmaid at the wedding that wasn’t taking place.
No doubt she would be busy mopping up Sophie’s tears.
‘Yes,’ Matteo said. ‘For one night.’
Oh, he could have flown out of Bordo Del Cielo early on the Monday morning and still made his flight to Dubai, but there was safety in distance and he needed that distance from Bella.
He hung up the phone and told himself he didn’t care about Bella. She had chosen that life, he reminded himself.
He had emptied not just his wallet that night, he had given her his heart, he had promised to take care of her, and she had thrown it all in his face.
Yes, he accepted her mother had been ill and that would account for her not being at the airport.
It didn’t account for later, though.
Was it male pride that had let her walk off?
Was it her shameful past that had kept them apart?
It wasn’t love he had found that night, it had been sex, that was all, he tried to tell himself.
Good sex.
But, no, he’d had plenty of that since then.
What had it been about that night that clung to him? A night that was as present as a damp cloud, seeping into everything, ensuring nothing was as bright or as clear as it had been then.