‘My dog. He’s a rescue.’
‘I believe your neighbour was out on a walk with him at the time,’ Sergio replied.
‘Oh, thank goodness!’
She sank down into a chair, her legs obviously trembling, and put her head in her hands. Matteo felt for her. Was her home ruined?
‘You must stay here with us. Until everything is fixed.’
She looked up, tears in her eyes. ‘I couldn’t possibly do that.’
‘Nonsense! It’s done. Sergio, could you arrange for Dr Szenac’s clothes and anything she needs to be brought to her quarters here in the palace? Including her dog, who I’m sure will bring her great comfort. We’re going to have a guest for a while.’
‘I don’t know what to say...’ she said, beginning to cry.
He smiled. ‘Say yes.’
She looked at him for a long moment and he saw gratitude. ‘Then, yes. Thank you. Yes.’
He nodded. ‘Sergio? Make it happen.’
* * *
‘I’m so lucky I was here when it happened, she said later. Otherwise I might have been injured!’
‘Well, you were here, and that’s all that matters.’
‘But—’
‘No buts. There’s no point in wondering about what might have happened. You just need to worry about what is happening.’ He smiled. ‘I learned that in therapy. Look at me—spreading the knowledge.’
She smiled as she stroked Bruno’s fur. They’d had a joyous reunion when Sergio had returned with her dog, her clothes, her computer and some rather startling photographs of the damage to her villa.
‘That’s going to take weeks to repair,’ she’d said.
‘Let me take care of that,’ Matteo had offered.
‘I couldn’t possibly let you do that! It will cost a fortune!’
‘Are you insured?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then don’t worry about it. Let me do something good for you. You were kind enough to step in at the last minute and help me out when I needed a doctor—let me step in and help you out when you need a...’
‘A builder?’ She’d laughed.
He’d smiled back. ‘A knight in shining armour. Didn’t you see my suit of armour downstairs? It’s very polished.’
So of course she’d thanked him profusely, feeling so terribly grateful for all that he was doing to help her out.
‘I appreciate that. I really do.’
‘Nonsense. It’s what friends do.’
And she’d smiled. Were they friends? ‘Thank you.’
* * *
Matteo had invited her to dine with him that evening.
‘You can bring Bruno. If he’s lucky we might be able to feed him titbits under the table.’
‘He’ll never want to leave this place if you do that.’
And now they sat on his sun terrace, awaiting their meal, staring out across the gardens below and watching the sun slowly set.
‘By the way, I don’t know if you’ve heard but Dr Bonetti’s wife has pulled through. She’s in a stable condition and expected to go home soon. He phoned from the hospital. Let my secretary know.’
‘That’s excellent news! Wow. So good to have such great news after earlier. And the driver who hit my home? Do we know about him?’
‘Already home. And already charged by the police for drink driving. He’s to attend court in a few days’ time.’
‘If it was an accident I’m sure he’s very sorry.’
Matteo sipped his water. ‘Unfortunately, from what I’ve discovered, the man is a known drunk. He’s already had his licence taken from him and the car wasn’t even his. It was his son’s and he’d “borrowed” it.’
‘Oh.’
‘We’ll get him into a programme.’
‘We?’ She raised an eyebrow.
‘My pack of royal enforcers,’ he said with a straight face, knowing there was no such pack at all.
‘Enforcers?’
He laughed. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t really have enforcers. I was just... Look, he needs help. Someone will go and visit him and make sure he enrols into a programme that will get him the help he needs. Before he kills someone next time.’
‘Maybe I could go and see him myself?’
‘Is that wise? You’re emotionally involved.’
‘Which is why he might listen to me. Meeting the actual victim of his crime might make more of an impact.’
‘Was hitting your wall not enough?’ He cocked his head to one side. ‘How do you know so much about crime and victimology?’
She looked down and away from him then, and he realised there was a story there. Something she wasn’t willing to share.
‘I’m sorry—you don’t have to answer that.’
She laughed. ‘Don’t therapists suggest that talking is good for the soul?’
He nodded. ‘They do. But only when you’re ready. Are you ready?’
‘I don’t know.’
He sipped his drink. ‘You’ll know when it’s the right time. And, more importantly, if it’s the right person to talk to. You don’t really know me, so I quite understand.’
She stared back at him. Consideringly. Her eyes were cool. ‘I think you’d understand more than most.’
He considered this. Intrigued. ‘Oh?’
She paused. Looked uncertain. And then he saw it in her face. The determination to push forward and just say it.
‘I was six years old. And I was taken.’
‘Taken?’ His blood almost froze, despite the warmth of the sun.
‘My father buried me in a hole in the ground.’
Конец
