After an awkward pause, Gina said with a wide red-lipped smile, 'I've heard that you're opening a gallery.'

David swallowed his bourbon; he moved his hand further up his companion's leg. 'Well, if you're gonna have a dream...' he said, and hummed a few bars from South Pacific.

Gina looked disappointed. 'Is it only a dream? I thought...'

'What?'

'Well, um... that if you'd got to the stage of considering work to exhibit, you might be interested in seeing some of mine.'

'You're an artist?' mused David in a tone that might have been ironic.

'An artist-photographer, yes.' When he made no response she began another tack. 'Felix has such an amazing collection, don't you think?'

'Collection's too grand a word for it,' Felix protested, though he was proud of his eye. There was kudos in being a talent-spotter. 'You make me sound like a Guggenheim.'

'Of course you've had some lucky breaks.'

'Skill, darling. The trick is to get in at the beginning, before anyone else cottons on. I can't afford not to buy early. Then, if a work becomes so popular it destroys your pleasure in it, you can sell at a profit and move on to something new. Also, I happen to believe in being a patron to the living. Money's no good to the deceased.'

'Hey man,' said David. 'You ever want to sell your Cy Twombly you let me know.'

Gina put her head on one side as if conjuring up the drawing. 'I don't really get it. I can't see beyond the squiggles.'

'Because you've yet to look at it thoroughly,' Felix said. 'That's why Twombly's work is so interesting, there's so much depth to it. He doesn't deal in superficial images. If you think about it, letters, hieroglyphs, marks on paper they all require interpretation. You can't just give them a quick once-over although the general effect is superbly melancholic.' He added, 'I know it's only a small sketch on paper but one doesn't look a gift horse in the mouth.'

David became more alert. 'A gift? Not from the artist?'

'No, from a generous old friend. No longer with us. He knew I was an admirer.'

'However you came by it,' said David, 'it's your hedge against the world. Isn't art sublime! Nothing compares. Still, I'm aiming to be more than a collector. I plan to be a king-maker.'

Gina broke in. 'So maybe you would like to see some of my stuff? Can I give you my card?'

He s.n.a.t.c.hed it from her, borrowed Felix's pen, and scrawled 'Empress' across the back.

'The way I see it,' said Felix, wondering how long it would take him to catch up with David and stop feeling so d.a.m.n sober, 'I'm just a curator anyway. A temporary guardian. Good art should have will have a life of its own, beyond me.'

A gaggle of young men had collected at the bar. They were all wearing low-slung trousers, vests clinging to their pectorals and belts like charm bracelets festooned with keys, lighters, phones and fobs. They snapped their fingers, calling for drinks, a sheen of moisture on their upper lips, their cheekbones, the bulging curves of their muscles. David's companion gazed at them through his feathery lashes. He drew a cigarette from the pack of Marlboro Lights lying between their gla.s.ses on the bar, rolling it, tapping it and sniffing it, as if he were a connoisseur of the finest Cuban cigars. David adjusted the position of his stool to form a protective barrier against the crush. 'If you're feeling kinda low, Felix,' he said, 'my suggestion to you is to try one of these.'

'One of what?'

He ruffled the soft pelt on the youth's scalp. 'My Iranian.' He bared his white, evenly capped teeth, a tribute to advanced American dentistry. The Iranian didn't seem to want to expose his own in comparison. He inserted the Marlboro, unlit, into his mouth and tugged at the row of small hoops that ringed the outer rim of his ear 'Does he understand anything you're saying?'

'Not if it's in English. He's got a bit of Italian though. E un culo magnifico.' The boy smiled, leaning forward to reach for his cigarette lighter in a movement which lifted his magnificent a.r.s.e from his seat. 'You know,' David carried on, 'that could be a neat number for you if you're at a loose end. Teaching a little English could get you a long way. Know what I'm saying?'

'English Lit,' said Felix. 'Not, what-is-way-to-station-please.'

'So sooorry, professore.'

Gina cut in unexpectedly. 'Don't be such a sn.o.b, Felix. You've done it before and you're very good at it.'

'Grat.i.tude,' said David, 'will be your reward.' He leant forward and planted a lascivious kiss on the Iranian's lips.

Gina bent to Felix's ear. 'He's completely trashed. This isn't going to get us anywhere.'

He shrugged. 'I said you'd be better off visiting him at the gallery.'

'But you also told me he hasn't found the right premises.'

'Well, yes.'

'So what was I supposed to do?'

'Well, you could have tried a little patience,' Felix pointed out. 'A few months further down the line, I could have asked him over to dinner. By then he might have got around to signing a lease and you could have shown him your portfolio. Or you could have got here on time tonight.'

'I knew this was coming! I knew it would somehow end up being all because of me that your Yankee Doodle Dandy with more money than wit was out of his head.'

'Darling, he's not out of his head and there's nothing wrong with his hearing. Try and keep your voice down.'

David's face set like a sulky child's, with the lower lip pushed out. Then he glimpsed Felix's reflection in the mirror, and winked. 'I don't generally like women who come over strong,' he said. 'You want me to make an exception?'

Gina put down her gla.s.s. She shook her head at the suggestion of a refill. 'I guess there's no point in staying,' she said. 'I've blown it, haven't I?'

'So what's new?'

'You don't want to come home with me?'

Felix felt ent.i.tled to be annoyed. 'Probably not.'

David swayed a little, dropped his foot onto the floor to steady himself. 'You run along there, Empress,' he said dismissively. 'We'll look after your friend. Come on back downstairs, Felix, and we'll see what we can find for you.'

This was not a good idea. After a handful of abortive encounters and several more drinks he recognised that his evening was disintegrating. David and his protege were still dancing, but Felix felt a sudden urge for solitude. Without saying goodbye, he left the Salamander, staggering a little as he turned the corner away from the club. Behind him were vibrant lights and throbbing music; ahead lay shadows. He'd intended to call up a taxi Gina had programmed the number for him but he felt the need, initially, for a walk in fresh air.

It only takes one wrong turning for a less-than-sober person to become disorientated. Felix appeared to be walking through a channel with high oppressive walls on either side and no clues as to where he might end up. A car swished past him, its headlights flashed and dipped from view. The stars blurred alarmingly when he looked up at them; the moon sagged, yellow and heavy, as if exhausted. He decided to concentrate on his feet, on putting one shoe in front of the other, keeping parallel to the wall. Eventually, this corridor would open into a piazza or turn into a junction of some sort. He'd be able to see a sign or a landmark, chart his way back to civilisation.

This was not the first time Felix had wandered through the city at night. One never knew who one might meet when the clubs disgorged. A brisk unb.u.t.toning, a meaty c.o.c.k, a brief but satisfying fumble in the arch of a doorway eye contact avoided offered a particular pleasure of its own. He enjoyed the attention of the crowd when he was holding forth, but he was a solitary hunter. As a rule, being alone didn't frighten him. He'd recovered from the occasional mugging and worn his scars with pride. But being ill brings with it a new kind of vulnerability.

Finally the long street segued into another. Shabby shops had their iron shutters pulled down; the apartments above showed no light at their windows, played no music, everyone was sleeping. A barren swathe of scrubland occupied the corner. Perhaps by day it was a park or a playground; he could only make out a few ungainly shapes. Another high wall maybe a school or a cemetery was sprayed with an unreadable scrawl; he felt there was something menacing in the arrangement of loops and jagged shapes.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket but his fingers were sweaty and it slipped from his grasp, clattering onto the narrow pavement. As he stooped for it, he heard footsteps. He hoped, naturally, that they belonged to somebody pleasant and helpful, someone who could direct him to the nearest cab rank. He glanced behind him. All he could see was a dark form or maybe two probably male, probably younger and taller and stronger than he was. Should he stop, let them accost him? They'd be after his wallet, money and credit cards. No, dammit, they could make do with the mobile he hated the b.l.o.o.d.y thing anyway.

Leaving it for them, he began to run. The footsteps wavered and halted, but they must have been after greater booty. Within seconds they were pursuing him again, gaining on him. He didn't feel a blow, but was aware of the ground rising to meet him, of crashing all at once into black oblivion.

Gina was in bed when the call woke her. She groped for her phone and answered it in an automatic reflex. 'p.r.o.nto.'

'Leone,' said the stranger.

Befuddled, she began to envisage the arid desert of spaghetti westerns. With the shutters closed, the room around her which she had not yet got used to was a dark mysterious s.p.a.ce filled with murky shapes. 'What time is it?'

'I'm sorry to disturb you,' he said. 'I have called because yours was the last number dialled.'

'The last number dialled,' she repeated. 'Oh my G.o.d, Felix! Has something happened to him?' It was rare for her to be the first to leave a social occasion. Usually Felix would be dragging her off the dance floor or away from the bar, telling her she'd had enough. And she would be disagreeing.

'He has had a fall.'

'A fall? That could be really bad for him! Dangerous, I mean. How is he? Has he broken anything?'

'We think not. We think, if so, he would be in more pain. Presently he is sleeping.'

'Where? Where are you?'

'You are his wife?' said Leone.

If she had been less worried, she might have laughed. 'We're just good friends. He isn't married,' she added, remembering the demonstrations Felix had attended out of a sense of duty to the cause though it was hard to foresee a prospect for civil partnerships in Italy. 'Who are you?'

'I am Father Leone from the Madonna of All Mercy. Your friend lost his way and stumbled upon us.'

A priest. G.o.d almighty. 'What do you want me to do?'

'You could take him to the hospital.'

Felix hated hospitals, especially since he had become so dependent on the treatment they offered. Her job, as she saw it, was not to let him wallow. 'You'd better give me your address and then I'll come and fetch him.'

Dawn was breaking when she arrived at the crypt and hammered on the door to be let in. Felix was wrapped in a blanket on a spindle-backed chair, looking shamefaced. And grey.

'I don't know how you managed to get yourself into such a state,' she greeted him.

'Isn't that what I always say about you?'

She rested her hand on his arm. 'I'll have to get you checked out.'

'Just as well I've been taking the steroids,' he muttered. 'Could have been worse.'

'How did it happen anyway?'

'What, that I drank too much? Or got lost? You shouldn't have abandoned me, you know.'

'It was a disaster, wasn't it? Is he always like that, the Farnon guy?'

'Not really. He had a row with his partner last month and they're temporarily estranged. So he's a bit derailed, showing off his wild side.'

'No kidding?' She peered at bodies unfurling from thin foam mattresses. The priest was moving among them, his rosary clanking at his thigh. 'What is this place?'

'Some sort of haven for lost souls,' he said. 'Extraordinary, really, that I should stumble upon it. But I did, literally.'

'How do you mean?'

'I fell down the steps. I tripped over because I was running away from these fellows I thought were muggers. In point of fact they were trying to return my phone I'd dropped it, you see. They raised me up like b.l.o.o.d.y Lazarus and brought me in here though at the time I was convinced I'd arrived at the gates of h.e.l.l. This creature in long black robes came gliding forward. The Grim Reaper, I was sure of it. In fact it was my saviour, Father Leone, who has patched me up.' He waved towards the priest and flinched. 'I'll have to find some way of thanking him.'

Gina pushed back the blanket and rolled up his sleeve. 'You're d.a.m.n lucky your bones haven't snapped, you're covered in bruises. We need to get them seen to.'

His voice dropped. 'All I really want to do is sleep. You know how important it is for me to be in my own bed these days.'

She laced her fingers in his. 'Come on then. Never mind the priest; we can come back later. Didn't I always promise I'd take good care of you? Repay you for what you did for me?'

'When in particular?'

There were countless times, it was true, in the past decade, when Felix had come to her aid. 'Right at the beginning, remember? The clinic...'

'Darling, it was the indefatigable Vicki who rescued you in your darkest hour; she hardly let me near you.'

'I meant before, that day on the beach.'

16.

Ten Years Earlier: June 1993

Gina and Felix had struck a chord almost from their first meeting, although to other people the relationship appeared perverse. Her flatmate, Vicki, who was inclined to be bossy, too ready with her advice and opinions, declared, 'I can't understand why you're hanging around so much with that Felix Raven. He's far too old for you.'

'Perhaps I like older men.'

'And you yourself call him the Raven Queen!'

'He's promised to advance my education,' said Gina. 'He says my own fell short. And I don't want to be thought an airhead because of the work I do. Plus he's good fun, and that's what I need right now.'

Their friendship was cemented by the common strand of abandonment. Gina's lover, Mitch, had called an end to three years of globe-trotting, of wild weekends in far-off cities which they never saw because they scarcely left their hotel bedroom. The previous year he had helped her move down from Milan to Rome and hinted that they should be looking for a place together. The sudden break-up had sent her reeling, she was so unprepared for it although she'd pretended quite the opposite.

In Felix's case, his companion Maurizio, a charming boyish Sicilian, had returned to his roots. He'd gone home for his father's funeral and announced he would not be coming back. 'Under Mamma's thumb,' sighed Felix. 'I should have guessed.'

One sunny June morning he called on Gina, hooting outside in his small red Lancia that would not, after all, be driving to Siracusa for the summer. She'd gone out the night before with a group of people she didn't know very well. They had hopped through a string of noisy bars, finding none satisfactory; she had developed a splitting headache. She leaned out of her window; he leaned out of his.

'Let's go for an adventure,' he said.

'What, now?'

'Carpe diem!'