Why did she keep shutting him out when he so desperately wanted to help her? He was the only one of her fiancés to have questioned her like that - the only one to realise that she wasn’t being completely honest. But did he really want to help her? If she told him the truth, would he really understand? Somehow, she didn’t think he would. Some people thought they could handle the truth - and would bug and bother until it was exhumed but, once in possession of it, would turn and flee faster than an athlete on steroids. It was like licking somebody else’s wounds - it just wasn’t natural. People’s pasts, she’d always believed, should be left well and truly alone. When Elena got back to Sandro’s, it was late afternoon and Rosanna was out. Even with her mind in a maelstrom, she spared a thought for her sister and hoped she was coping with the pint-sized ogre that was Irma Taccani. The apartment seemed so quiet with just her there. Of course, peace and quiet was part of the reason why she’d come to Venice but, now she had it, she felt restless and anxious.
