Deep and Silent Waters by Charlotte Lamb Read Free Book Online Page B

carefully controlled; he knew precisely what he was doing, what effect his chisel would have, where to strike, with what force, and what would happen in consequence. Sculpting was a science as much as an art: you had to understand stone to work with it, and he had chisels and hammers of every size and shape, lined up with great precision on a table behind him. As far as his tools were concerned, he had a passion for order.
    A shape was emerging from the block: where once there had been simply a featureless square of stone you could now see a long, thin nose, angled cheekbones, hollowed eye sockets.
    He stood back and pushed up his goggles to get a clearer view of what he had just done, blinking at the reflection of blue water rippling along the walls in dancing patterns of light. The sky outside was turning almost purple in the heat.
    ‘It wasn’t a joke, Mamma,’ he said, absently. ‘All human beings are capable of anything. That doesn’t mean we’ll do what we’re capable of, merely that the potential exists inside us.’
    A long silence followed. Then his mother said, ‘That girl, the actress, her hair … did you notice? The same colour as his mother’s.’
    ‘Titian red. Of course I noticed. Gina had wonderful hair – I’ve never forgotten it, like fire in sunshine. The girl’s bone structure is similar, too.’
    Standing back, his head on one side, he ran a hand tenderly over the face he was carving, watching the way the strange light from the water flickered over it, making it look as if the mouth moved in a smile. He had read somewhere that Phidias, the Greek sculptor, had been able to carve stone so that it looked alive, real flesh that you could swear would move under your fingers. God, to be able to get that effect! ‘Strange, what happens inside our heads, isn’t it?’ he thought aloud.
    ‘What are you talking about now?’ His mother watched him, frowning, her olive skin pale.
    ‘I think we should invite Sebastian here while he’s in Venice.’
    ‘No!’ The word came in a high sound, like the shriek of one of the gulls outside in the sky.
    He pulled down the goggles over his eyes and lifted his chisel and hammer again. ‘Of course we must. Don’t be silly, Mamma. Will you ring his hotel? While you’re at it, invite that girl, too.’
    ‘I won’t have either of them under my roof!’
    ‘
Your
roof, Mamma? My roof, you mean. I want them both here, especially that girl. I want
her
here especially.’
    ‘Nico, please … don’t …’ Her hands twisted together and she watched him with a fixed, anxious gaze.
    ‘Don’t keep arguing. Go and ring Sebastian now. You don’t want to make me angry, do you?’
    Laura spent ten minutes unpacking, hanging up her clothes, filling drawers, but only after she had sat Jancy, the doll she had had all her life and was never parted from, on the end of the bed. She had been given her for Christmas when she was four and Jancy had sat at the end of her bed ever since. Eighteen inches high, soft-bodied, with a smooth, pink porcelain face, delicately modelled little hands and feet in the same material, curly blonde hair and blue eyes that shut if you laid her down and snapped open again when you sat her up, Jancy had always worn the same knee-length pleated blue dress, with pearl buttons from her waist up to a rounded collar. Now and then Laura took her clothes off and washed them, the dress, the white slip, the lacy panties and the white shoes.
    Melanie always teased her about Jancy. ‘Aren’t you too old to be carrying a doll around with you everywhere? I’ve heard of people who still keep their teddy bears – but a doll, for heaven’s sake!’
    ‘Call her my mascot. She’s company for me when I’m alone in a strange hotel room.’
    ‘Get a man!’
    ‘Jancy’s far less trouble.’
    ‘That depends on the man. You choose the wrong ones.’
    ‘So do you!’
    Melanie couldn’t argue with that and, anyway, Laura didn’t care what she thought.