Chapter Eight

Live in the sunshine, swim the sea, drink the wild air.”
- Ralph Waldo Emerson

Under the stream of hot water, with the night still clinging faintly to my skin, I couldn’t decide if I was falling in love or letting my imagination snatch my rationality away; the taste of sea salt lingered on my lips, and when I closed my eyes, I could still feel his hands in my hair. I shuddered and reached for the shampoo. I had reluctantly let Gabriel release me and throw on his shirt. Sofia and Luca had come giggling up to us, drunk on euphoria and oblivious to the heated threads of tension snaking between Gabriel and myself. I watched Gabriel leave and stroll up the beach to find Stefano, my mind screaming at the increasing distance between us. I dressed mechanically, trying to appear unaffected when my entire body quivered with heat.

Consumed by my thoughts, I had drifted from the car, up the stairs, into my bedroom, pushed off my clothes and climbed into bed. I lay, replaying the night over and over again in my head, like a favourite song, lingering on the chorus. Sleep finally consumed me under, plunging me deep into a fevered flood of dreams.

I woke slowly, shaking off clinging dreams as I clawed upwards and finally broke the surface. I unstuck my eyelids and yawned. Almost immediately, the memories rushed back and I smiled contentedly. Then my nose was assaulted by the repellent odour of stale sweat. Luckily, the bathroom was empty.                                             

A secret smile played on my lips all day. Sofia wished to visit a local market so we meandered unhurriedly through the stalls of overpriced wares. The sun glared down uncomfortably hot and though we took refuge beneath the awnings the heat did not relent. I scanned the goods laid out neatly, avoided eye contact with the vendors and nodded along to Sofia’s conversation. I stole furtive moments to indulge in sweet recollections and wishing he would be around the next turn, waiting for me.

I scolded myself for my foolishness, behaving like an infatuated, lovesick schoolgirl. It was just a few kisses. Most likely Gabriel was caught up in the atmosphere of the night and nothing more. It was too good to be true. We barely knew each other. Meeting a stranger on holiday and he miraculously falls in love with me? That only happened in books and films. Last night, in Gabriel’s arms I had felt something so rare and foreign to me, I had wanted to hold onto it and never let go. 

We were busy digging into lunch when Gabriel buzzed the door. He was taking the institute’s boat out to check traps and invited me to join him. I was delighted. Sofia and Luca were due to visit friends so I had been facing an afternoon alone. I rushed to change and tried to perk up my flattened hair.

The boat, Gabriel informed me, was a hard top nineteen ninety, twenty one foot Sylvan Offshore fishing boat a benefactor had purchased for the institute. They had christened her Salacia after the Roman sea goddess. Gabriel brought up two life jackets from the cabin. “Safety first,” he said and held out one to me.
I thread my arms through it and Gabriel tightened the straps, dropping a kiss onto my nose. Gabriel handled The Salacia expertly, casting off her moorings and piloting her out of the harbour. The sea lazed complacently beneath us, disinterested in our presence.

Gabriel stopped to haul up and inspect his traps. I stayed well out of the way, happy to watch him at work.
“That’s the last one,” he said, letting it drop back into the water.
He returned to the helm and we chugged on.
“Shall we find a quiet spot, drop anchor and enjoy the peace?”
“Yes, that’d be wonderful.”

About two miles from shore, Gabriel turned off the engine and threw out the anchor. There were fishing boats a mile or so away, but it was quiet, save the sea babbling its ceaseless discourse. From a hamper, Gabriel produced a glistening bottle of Moscato and two glasses. He filled one and handed it to me. I leaned on the gunwale, hardly believing where I was. Gabriel clinked his glass against mine.
“Salute.”
“Salute,” I repeated, and gulped a mouthful.
I could feel his eyes on me, a phantom touch nuzzling my neck and warming my cheek. His gaze was steady and intense. I drained my wine hastily and hiccupped.

Gabriel plucked the glass from my fingers and put it aside. He wound an arm around my waist and drew me flush against him. He ran his thumb along my jaw and tipped up my chin. His lips were already so familiar but I would never tire of their soft, demanding touch.
“I’m sorry,” he said, resting his forehead against mine, his hair flopping into my eyes. “I just . . . it feels like I am on borrowed time with you. That I’ll blink and you’ll be gone and I . . .”
His words both frightened and delighted me. I slid my hand beneath the opening of his shirt and laid my palm against his chest. He clasped it. I looked up at him.
“I’m here now,” I whispered.
His lips grazed mine gently, then deepened the kiss. His free hand stroked up my nape and curled into my hair.

We slumped to the deck and separated, sitting opposite one another. Gabriel refilled my glass. I twirled it between my fingers, watching the sunlight skip across the bubbles.
“So, what’s on the horizon for Jenny Stewart?”
“Oh,” I half laughed. “A few hectic months I am not looking forward to.”
He frowned.
“Why?”
I hesitated, wondering whether I should tell him. His face, as always, was so kind and open, I couldn’t help myself. The need to share had been raging inside me for weeks.
“I need to move far away from what is now home and find a new job,” I said.
The words sent a nervous flutter through my stomach.
“Really? Why? Did something happen?”
I nodded, my lips squirming.
“After you’ve been accused of theft by your own family,” I said, trying my best to sound nonchalant. “It does leave you feeling sour and with a strong desire to get as far away from them as possible.”
Gabriel stared at me.
“What?!”
“My parents accused me of theft,” I repeated, blushing. “And reported me to the police.”
“But why?” breathed Gabriel, his voice hushed incredulity.
I took a sip of wine.
“Well, my grandmother passed away earlier this year and she left me her house and all of her savings,” I explained, my tongue growing leaden as the familiar sadness knotted in my chest. “I was shocked, I had no idea. But my parents were furious, feeling like it should have all gone to them.”
An ugly, nervous sensation spread through my gut.
“They and my brother and sister tried to persuade me to give my parents the house and the money, saying they needed it,” I continued, swirling the wine in my glass. “But I refused. They had already taken so much from me and I didn’t want to ignore my grandmother’s last wishes.”
I could feel Gabriel’s gaze but couldn’t look at him.
“So they tried to contest the will, accusing me of bullying and coercing my grandmother into bequeathing her money to me. But the witness of the will, a good friend and neighbour of my grandmother’s, assured my parents that it was what my grandmother wanted, that she hoped I could use the money to follow my dreams,” I choked. “And build the life I always wanted.”
The tears sprang into my eyes, the ache tightening my lungs. 
“I was very close with my grandmother,” I brushed the tears away, unable to stop the words slipping out. “My parents had always been so cold and strict and distant, but my grandmother, she was warm and kind. I spent so much time with her, she was my rock. And she was looking out for me even after she’d gone.”
A warm wind skipped across the boat and ruffled my hair. I drew in a deep breath and still Gabriel waited.
“My parents didn’t give up. They bombarded me with phone calls and text messages, some were gentle coaxing, others were threatening and angry. I didn’t relent. So their last resort was to call the police and say I’d stolen a large amount of money from them.”
Shame washed over me, the memory so fresh.
“The police arrived at my office at work to question me. I was so embarrassed and humiliated,” I shook my head. “I explained to the police what had been going on and they spoke to my grandmother’s lawyer, they eventually believed me.”
I could still see the look of the policeman’s face, pity and sadness.
“I couldn’t believe my parents would stoop so low, that they would be so desperate,” I sniffed, pressing a fingertip to the corner of my eye. “After the police visit, I received a scathing text message from my mother, telling me what a selfish woman I was, how I had never genuinely cared for my grandmother, just pretended so I could manipulate her into leaving me her money. That I was a cruel, pathetic mercenary and an ungrateful daughter.”
I paused, inhaling deeply to calm the cries threatening to overwhelm me.
“I changed my phone number, I don’t want them to be able to contact me,” I said, resolutely. “So when I go back, I’ll have to look for another place to live, use the money my grandmother left me to settle somewhere. I don’t want to but I’ll have to sell her house, it’ll break my heart to do it, but I have to get away from there, for good.”

I nodded to myself, rocking gently.

“But I had to get away as soon as possible, just for a breather, so I asked Sofia if I could come and stay. I didn’t tell her anything, just that I had two weeks off work and would love to visit. I didn’t know how to tell her,” I faltered. “I didn’t know how to tell anyone.”

My chest clenched so tightly and tears dropped from my eyelashes. 

“It had been a long time since I wanted or expected anything from my parents,” I insisted, finally looking at him. “But it was that ever present feeling of loneliness that exploded and really struck me deep down. I have never felt so truly alone.”

Gabriel rocked forward and up onto his knees. He crawled across the deck to me. His hands gently framed my face and he held my eyes.

“Jenny,” he said, his voice so soft and kind. “I am so sorry.”

My stomach spasmed, a fresh wave of tears rising. His thumb stroked soothingly across my cheek.

“Tell Sofia and Luca what happened,” he urged. “They’ll want to know, they’ll want to help.”
I nodded. He shuffled beside me and stretched an arm around me, tugging me close.

“Life is an unpredictable, churning, sea that often feels unnavigable, especially if you’re sailing it alone,” he said, ruminatively. “With endless storms to weather, often with no land in sight. But if you look through the fog or the rain, you’ll spy other boats riding the waves, though they may be far off, and up ahead the bright beam from a lighthouse.” 

“Right now, I feel like I've been shipwrecked and I’ve washed up on shore, battered and beaten,” I said, rubbing my sleeve across my face. 

He kissed my hair.

“Yes, I thought the metaphor was excruciating too,” he conceded. 

I laughed. 

“I hope you understood the underlying sentiment though?”

“Yes,” I nodded.

“And it’ll be a difficult few months relocating, finding a new job, but you’ll get there.”
“Right now it feels like a trek across Antarctica.”
“You mean, desolate, cold, demoralising and no sign of the cute penguins you were promised?”

“Yes,” I chuckled.

The rapid rush of despair that almost swamped me had dwindled now to a fading trickle. The relief of sharing spread through me and scrubbed away the niggling doubts. My parents and their small world were light years away. And they could no longer hurt me. I leaned my head against Gabriel’s shoulder and entwined my fingers in his.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
The sea rocked the boat gently, the waves gurgling against the hull.
“You should be cherished,” Gabriel murmured, softly.
The tears stood in my eyes. His words soothed a tired and battered heart, a balm over the ragged scars of the past. I had trusted him and he hadn’t disappointed. He’d given me what I needed. A tear rolled down my cheek. The pad of Gabriel’s thumb caught it and brushed it away. He titled my head up and kissed me, until my tears dried to salt on my skin.
Hugging myself, I skipped up the stone steps to Sofia’s apartment. Grinning from dimple to dimple, I rapped lightly on the door. The lock clicked. Sofia’s face was sombre.
“You have a visitor,” she said, closing the door softly behind us.
My eyebrows furrowed.
“Who?” I asked.
She gestured towards the living room. I kicked off my shoes and padded through the hallway into the living room. Inspetorre Gianetti sat on Sofia’s white leather couch, cradling an espresso in his hands. My stomach churned and I stared at him.

The detective inspector was not much older than myself but his thick waves of brown hair were already streaked with grey. His warm brown eyes were shrewd but his face was friendly. We had met briefly in the bay when he had arrived to investigate Vittorio’s death. His English was excellent and he had been kind. I pulled my sunglasses off my head and folded them in my hands. He smiled.
“Miss Stewart,” he greeted me, standing. “Forgive me for intruding, but I have a few more questions I’d like to ask you.”
“Yes, yes of course.”
I pulled out a chair at the dining table and sat down, laying my sunglasses aside. Sofia walked to her bedroom, leaving the inspector and I alone. I took a deep breath.
“How can I help?”
He laid his cup on the coffee table and pulled a small notebook from the inner pocket of his jacket. He considered me.
“First, I have to inform you that we are investigating Signor Rinaldi’s death as suspicious.”
“You believe he was killed.”
“Correct.”
My heart sank.
“That is why I need some more information from you.”
“OK. Please, continue.”
“You told us you met Gabriel Moreau two days before Vittorio Rinaldi‘s body was found.”
“Yes.”
“And you spent the afternoon at the bay together?”
“Yes.”
“Did you or he leave at any time?”
“No, well, Gabriel went to the car to fetch more water and I fell asleep.”
“You don’t know when he returned?”
“No, but he told me I had been sleeping for an hour.”
“I see.”
“And you told us, you had seen Vittorio Rinaldi two days before at the Cala Nascosta         bar.”
“That’s right. The bartender was talking to him.”
“Did Gabriel Moreau speak to him?”
“I don’t think so.”
“You were together all the time at the bar?”
“No, I walked further up to use the Ladies bathroom on the seafront twice.”
“OK.” He looked down at his notes. “Gabriel told you he knew Vittorio Rinaldi?”
“Yes.”
“Did he say how he knew him?”
“No, only that Vittorio had shown him the bay and had started the rumours about the jellyfish.”
“The jellyfish?”
“Yes, he, Vittorio, apparently told everyone the bay was infested with jellyfish,” I explained. “To keep people away.”
“I see, clever idea.”
He took a sip of coffee.
“Miss Stewart, may I ask what Gabriel has told you about himself?”
“Oh, well, that he works in marine conservation here on the island, he’s passionate about it and well . . .”
“Nothing else? Where he is from? His family?”
“No.”
“That isn’t strange for you?”
“Well, yes,” I stammered. “But it’s only been days and most of the time there hasn’t been opportunities for lengthy conversations.”
I blushed, hoping he didn’t assume I meant that Gabriel and I hadn’t talked much because we were too busy with one occupation in particular.
“But you trust him?”
“I don’t know,” I said, confused at his question. “He’s been very kind. Why?”
“Just to be clear,” he shrugged, indifferently. “But let me tell you that Gabriel Moreau is a Dutch citizen. He was previously an engineer who designed a component that revolutionised the building of ship engines apparently and he made a lot of money.”
I wasn’t sure how he expected me to respond to this, so I remained silent.
“But five years ago, he left the Netherlands and came here,” Inspetorre Gianetti continued. “Started working at the marine research institute.”
I looked blankly at him, expecting there was more to come.
“You see, Miss Stewart, shortly before he left his home country, he was arrested for murder.”