Indiscretions - Elizabeth Adler [67]
“What?” India stared at him disbelievingly. The rain streamed down her face, dripping under her collar. “You can’t be serious. Are you telling me that we’re here in the middle of nowhere—with no car, and no key to this house?”
“That appears to be the situation,” replied Fabrizio stiffly.
“Goddamn it.” India stamped her foot in fury. “Why the hell didn’t we bring my car?”
“You know why—the paparazzi have you staked out—they’d have followed us here! They’d take photos through the bedroom windows! If you thought they were bad in Hollywood, it’s no holds barred here, India, and you know it.”
“Then why did we come here? I could have met you in a hotel in Switzerland, or France—but no, you had this nice cozy little love-nest only an hour or so away from Rome! Shit!” India’s stamping foot kicked out at him, catching him on the shin.
“Aagh!” Fabrizio stepped back, clutching his leg. He glared at her angrily in the darkness. “Violence does not become you, India.”
His reply to her kick sounded so stiff and pompous that India laughed. “I thought it was the Neapolitans who were volatile and crazy.” She giggled. “But, damn it, you deserved it, Fabrizio.”
Turning on his heel he limped back toward the corner of the house.
“Fabrizio, wait! Wait for me!”
She caught up with him under the portico and grabbed his hand. “I’m sorry, forgive me—I didn’t mean to hurt you, really, Fabrizio.”
“Why were you laughing? You’ve been laughing secretly all night—it’s very annoying, India.”
“It’s just that this whole situation struck me as being too ridiculous. You should be thankful I’m laughing, Fabrizio, and not crying!”
“It’s true, I know.” He put his arm around her wet, furry shoulders. “And it’s my fault—I should have double-checked all the arrangements, but it’s difficult sometimes.”
“Well, what do we do now?”
“We break in,” announced Fabrizio calmly. “There’s a small window at the back of the house that has been left unshuttered. It probably leads into a pantry near the kitchen. I shall break it with a stone and open the latch so that you can get in.”
“Me?” India’s eyes were round with astonishment.
“Of course you—obviously I am too large for such a window. Come on, I’ll show you.”
The window was small even for her, and India stared at it doubtfully.
“Isn’t there any other way?” she asked in a small voice.
“Not unless you fancy walking six kilometers to the nearest town. Come on, now, India, it’s not that difficult. Inside there is warmth and comfort, dry clothes, food and drink.” He prayed he was right and that the house hadn’t been left unoccupied by the servants for very long. “At least there’ll be a telephone,” he added.
A phone! The lifeline to civilization.
“Here’s a stone,” replied India.
The sound of shattering glass was small compared with the roar of the wind that had now reached gale force, and India crouched low, bracing herself against it, as Fabrizio put his hand inside the shattered pane and fiddled with the latch.
“Got it,” he said triumphantly, swinging the window outward. “Come on, India—and watch out for fragments of glass.”
The window was higher than she had thought; she could only just clutch the sill with her hands. Fabrizio gave her a leg up and India cautiously pushed her head through the opening, staring into the darkness.
“Go on!” Fabrizio gave her a push.
“I can’t see a thing,” she called, her voice sounding muffled.
“I know the house,” he called back. “I’m pretty sure that this is the butler’s pantry. There should be a sink immediately below the window—if you feel down there you should find the taps and then we’ll know I’m right. There’s no big drop from the window to the floor, so there’s no need to be afraid.”
India felt forward cautiously; yes, there was the faucet. “You’re right,” she called, wriggling farther through. If she turned sideways she could just make it.
“I’m in,” she called triumphantly. “I’m standing in the sink.”
“Good, now I’ll tell you what to do. If I’m right, directly opposite you is a door. It leads to a passage. If you turn left and