Deep and Silent Waters

She turned on the shower and stood under the jets of water. First an ice-cold sting her muscles, her nipples, her tensed shoulders and face, then the water changed gradually to lukewarm. She relaxed under it, eyes closed, breathing with delight as the moisture trickled down her hot body, oozed between her naked breasts, crawled down her flat midriff, the curve of her abdomen, along the creases of her inner thighs, down her legs to her toes.

Laura turned slowly to sluice every part of herself in blissful sensuality. You never appreciated water until you were in a very hot country.

That image was suddenly replaced by another: Niccolo’s dead kitten in the oil-slicked water of the Grand Canal. She had looked up at Sebastian, tears in her eyes. ‘I left it on the sofa in the salon. How could it have got into the canal?’

‘Its neck looks broken – it must have fallen out of a window.’ He sounded so offhand, but there was a darkness in his eyes that frightened her. Clea had fallen out of a window. Was that what he was thinking about?

How had the kitten died? Nobody would want to kill a kitten. It must have been an accident. It must have climbed up to the window and fallen out.

She had stared back at the palazzo vanishing into the dark blue night, lamps lit on the walls of the landing-stage, the upper windows of the salon glowing gold and pink. They were all closed, to keep out the mosquitoes and moths. The kitten couldn’t have fallen out.

The kitten had been so small and soft; she thought of the fast beating of that tiny heart under her fingers, the stare of those milky blue eyes, and tears burned in her own.

Sebastian said abruptly, ‘My mother died out here. She drowned, too. Soon afterwards we left Venice, my father and I, and went to the States.’ He looked round at her. ‘I want to make a film here. On location at Ca’ d’Angeli. It may exorcise some ghosts. And there’s a major role in it for you, Laura …’

She heard Melanie bellowing from the bedroom for her to hurry and switched off the water, wrung out her hair and pinned it up deftly at the back of her head before she stepped out of the shower.

She towelled herself dry rapidly and put on clean underclothes she had laid out in the bathroom cupboard, before she went back into the bedroom to find something to put on.

Mel was turning Jancy upside down so that her dress fell over her head. ‘I see you still go around with this doll. When are you going to grow up?’

Laura took Jancy away from her and put her gently in her accustomed position at the foot of the bed. ‘She’s the best friend a girl ever had. She never argues or criticises, just listens to whatever you want to tell her and nods sympathetically.’

‘Nods? What the hell is it with you? It’s a bloody doll! How can it nod?’

Laura picked up Jancy and said, ‘She’s dumb, isn’t she, Jancy?’

Jancy nodded.

‘See?’

‘You did that! I saw your finger at the back of her neck, moving her head up and down.’ But Melanie was grinning; she had enjoyed the joke. ‘I have to admit, I could do with someone like that in my office. A silent nodder. Wonderful.’

‘I’ll buy you a doll on your next birthday.’

‘Diamonds would be better.’

‘Dolls cost a lot less.’

‘Skinflint.’

Barefoot, in a lace-trimmed white silk bra and matching lacy camisole, Laura went over to the wardrobe and flicked through her clothes while Melanie watched her.

‘The white dress, Laura. White always looks good on you – cools down all that red hair.’

Laura took down the ankle-length silk dress, classic in style, with a halter neckline and low back, and let it slither down over her head, the folds clinging softly to her body as it fell almost to her feet.

She stood back to survey the result. The dress gave her a very feminine line, emphasised every curve of her body, from her long neck to her breasts and on, down her shapely legs.

‘You look great,’ Melanie assured her.

Laura smiled, sat down at the dressing table and blow-dried her hair into its accustomed style, then started on her foundation. She brushed a dust of the lightest gold glitter on her eyelids, curled her lashes with mascara.

‘Get a move on,’ implored Melanie, but Laura was not going to hurry because she did not want to start perspiring again. In this sultry night heat, you were wise to move as slowly as possible, especially if you were wearing a white silk dress that would show every tiny stain.

‘There’s plenty of time yet. Men expect women to be late. I haven’t finished explaining about Sebastian’s film. He wants to shoot some of it in Ca’ d’Angeli. He needs the Count’s permission, which is why Sebastian invited Nico to breakfast.’ She looked wryly into the dressing-table mirror at Melanie’s disapproving face. ‘You see? I’m not being set up for a seduction scene. I’m needed to help Sebastian persuade the Count to co-operate on this film.’

Melanie sniffed scornfully. ‘He’s using you, in other words. As usual. And what’s in it for you?’