– The Merchant of Venice
Cesca tossed and turned in her bed, checking the dial on her watch every five minutes, wondering whether Sam was still planning to see her. When he’d told her he’d ‘talk to her later’, Cesca had assumed it was a promise of sorts. Especially after their encounter in the gardens. But that was before Foster messed everything up. Now it was almost three in the morning – only two hours before she was due to leave – and she was wondering if she’d taken it completely the wrong way.
Maybe he’d meant it as a goodbye.
The thought made her hands shake as she reached out to put her watch back on the bedside table. He couldn’t have meant that, could he? After everything that had happened, he wouldn’t just let her walk away without even a proper farewell? He’d told her she was his in the gardens, as he’d plundered her mouth with his kisses. Was that real, or just something he’d said in the heat of the moment? Was it possible his words were fuelled by jealousy more than desire?
Her mind went back to the nights they’d spent apart since his family had arrived at the villa. Though it had been Cesca who had initiated their separation, Sam hadn’t exactly fought against her. He might have liked her, but not enough to want to keep her.
The thought made her want to cry.
Cesca glanced over at the case up by the door, waiting for Sandro to carry it down to the car in the morning. She was leaving exactly as she’d arrived; alone. She could live with that, couldn’t she?
Another half-hour passed, slower than molasses, and Cesca tossed and turned until the sheets were a wrinkled mess at the bottom of her bed. Her agitation was increasing, thinking about him, wondering why he still hadn’t made an appearance at her door.
It brought back old memories. Dark ones of her falling so far after he left. So hard to push out of her mind.
Sighing, she sat up, swinging her legs around to hit the floor. It was the inaction that was killing her. The waiting for somebody who clearly wasn’t coming. She’d been waiting for too long – for six years – this time she wasn’t willing to hang around any more.
The landing was quiet as she stepped out of her bedroom, her bare soles padding against the warm wood floor. It took seconds for her to reach Sam’s door, not long enough for her to think of her next move. Should she knock? Just barge her way in? Cesca hesitated for a moment, resting her hand on the thick oak panel.
That’s when she heard the voices. A low and deep one, followed by one distinctly feminine. Her mouth went dry as she realised he wasn’t alone.
‘I don’t understand, how could he lie to us for so long? How could you?’ It sounded like one of his sisters, though she couldn’t make out if it was Izzy or Sienna.
‘I didn’t want to upset you.’ That was Sam’s voice. ‘I wanted to protect you. It doesn’t mean anything anyway, I’m still your big brother.’
Another soft sob. ‘But all the things he said about you, Sam. I hate him, I really do. I’m never going to talk to him again.’
‘Of course you will, he’s your father, after all.’
‘He’s a liar and I don’t want anything to do with him. I don’t even want to see him, not ever again. He’s such an arse.’
Cesca thought she heard Sam’s low chuckle. Its familiarity stabbed her like a knife. ‘You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, sweetheart. Just take it easy, OK? You’ve had a big shock, and it’s a lot to take in. I know when I found out it sent me reeling.’
‘And then you left us all without a word. I never really understood until now. I thought you were just being a typical bratty older brother, and didn’t care about us at all.’
‘I’ll always care.’ Sam’s voice sounded like warm sunlight. ‘I always did. I just couldn’t stand being near him.’
‘Nor can I.’ A small silence followed, punctuated by the occasional sob. Cesca closed her eyes, imagining Izzy crying into her brother’s chest. Sam was probably stroking her hair, whispering quietly to his sister. Listening to such a private discussion was making her feel uncomfortable. Cesca was about to turn around and walk back to her room when Izzy spoke again.
‘I keep thinking about how mean he always was to you. No wonder you left for Hollywood.’
‘Yeah, I guess that was one of the reasons,’ he agreed. ‘But not the only one. I think I was looking for an excuse to leave.’
Oh, Cesca remembered.
‘Please can
you come back and live in London with us?’ Izzy pleaded. ‘I can’t stand the thought of being there with Mum and Dad. I hated it when you went away, please come home.’
‘Izz . . . ’
‘Sam, please.’ Her voice was plaintive. It made Cesca want to cry.
‘I can’t.’ Sam sounded half broken. ‘I wish I could, but I can’t live in London. I’ve got a life in LA, friends, a job. I can’t move back there for you.’
Another silence. Another sob. Cesca felt as though her heart was breaking alongside his sister’s.