Unmasked by Natasha Walker Read Free Book Online

his nod of recognition measured and his smile warm, but not once did he try to talk with her as any other Italian male would.

    Then after a rush of sightings a few days went by and Emma started to miss his smile. He wasn’t around. She swore to herself that she wasn’t looking for him but her walks in the old town became rather comprehensive. She thought of the old town as one big structure, a large mansion with many rooms. She was familiarising herself with all the narrow passages that cut through between the ancient squares.
    One of the busiest of these passages linked the castle with the cathedral. Emma emerged from this passage about a week after her rescue and entered the small square in front of the cathedral. She saw Marco immediately. He was across the square in the sunshine, seated on a camp stool in front of a sketchpad that was resting on a small easel. Facing him was a large woman sitting on an identical camp stool. Her husband stood a few feet away reading a map. He had to be her husband as they were wearing matching pale yellow jackets. During the day the square was never empty. The dull, unadorned façade of the cathedral was duly photographed by each and every tourist and now there stood at least twenty people doing just that from many different angles.

    Emma was able to get quite close without being spotted. Marco was busily marking the paper. He looked up at the woman and saw Emma. He smiled and kept on sketching. Emma moved around behind him to see his work. He had taken the features of the plain, round-faced woman before him and transformed them into a thing of beauty. Emma could clearly see it was the woman – everyone who knew her would be able to recognise her – but it was unlikely she had ever looked as beautiful in life.
    As she was studying this drawing, Marco swiftly exchanged it for another and Emma burst out laughing before she could stop herself. It was a caricature of the woman. She turned around and tried to smother the laugh by faking a coughing fit. But it was too late, the damage had been done. The woman stood up, demanding to see the sketch.
    Marco stood too. In faltering English he explained that he had shown Emma a funny picture. He pulled out a cartoon he had done earlier of another of his customers and then pulled out the flattering sketch of the woman, which delighted her as he must have known it would. The husband was drawn into thediscussion. Marco was shorter than the man, she noticed, and money changed hands. Then the couple waddled off, sketch rolled up and tied with a ribbon, placated and pleased.
    When Marco had finished he found Emma where the woman had been sitting.
    ‘No, no!’ said Marco, smiling.
    ‘Why not?’
    ‘No, I no draw you,’ he repeated. He leant forward and scribbled something on a page and then lifted it from the easel. He handed it to her. It was the caricature of the woman and on it he had written in capitals, TOO FUNNY.
    ‘Is this for me?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Thank you. Now draw me.’
    ‘No, no, no,’ he said, waving his hands in front of his face.
    Emma laughed. ‘Why not?’
    ‘No, no,’ he said.
    Emma stopped laughing and looked into his eyes. He returned her gaze and held it. Emma had to turn away.
    ‘My English … no good. I no draw you. It is job. Lavoro . Work. I painter.’
    Emma didn’t understand.

    ‘I work bar. I work boat. I work draw. I work Club Med. But I painter. Capito ? See?’
    Emma shook her head.
    ‘I show you. You come?’
    ‘Now?’
    ‘I work now. Later?’
    Emma nodded. He was sure of himself but not overtly. He had none of the restlessness of other Italian men she had met. He had an inner calm. And though he had made it clear he found her attractive he would not press her to accept his attentions.
    ‘Here. Later? Two hours?’
    Emma nodded again and stood up. She felt light-headed as she moved away down the alley towards the port. She hadn’t been sleeping well. Too much time alone. She was thinking of David