The Saffron Connection

By Yvonne Taylor

The Saffron Connection is a story about how peoples minds are easily corrupted by money, or the promise of money. Loyalties are forgotten. Previous character traits are bent in a dangerous direction, while the characters become somebody they never intended to be. The story takes place in Italy and stretches to Switzerland and overseas. But are humans able to learn from their missteps?

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Sep 10, 2014
• ISBN: 9781496990709

Yvonne Taylor

Yvonne Taylor was born in England but spent most of her life in foreign countries. During the many ensuing international encounters her wish to become an author grew steadily. This is her sixth book. Taylor now lives in Tuscany where there is plenty of inspiration for further fiction.

Book preview

1

S he slammed the garage door shut and jumped into the driver’s seat of the SUV.

Screeching her tyres she made for the main road leading into the village – or newly decreed town as her neighbours often reminded her. Distressed and dazed she headed for her husband’s factory. There was no traffic at 7 a.m. on a Sunday morning so she arrived in a matter of minutes. It wasn’t there. As to be expected, his car was not parked in front of the smart glass entrance of the factory. Perhaps she hoped until the very last minute that he was telling the truth. She tore the steering wheel around and headed for the place she suspected him to be. Parking at the rear of the building gave her the advantage of a surprise entrance. They had not locked the back door to the small hotel. Guests could expect to be granted access at all times. She hurried to the front part of the building where the restaurant remained closed until just before lunch. Thrusting the sliding door to one side she saw them. His trousers were strewn on the floor next to his jacket and shirt. Ridiculously he still wore his socks. They sat up in surprise as she stared at them from the open doorway. She said no word but abruptly turned away. Back to her car and back home before she started screaming uncontrollably.

The children were still asleep and she rushed to her bedroom closing the door silently behind her. She dropped onto the bed and held her pillow tightly over her face to allow the sobs to escape unnoticed. Pain shot through her body and she felt nauseous. Time after time she allowed herself to ignore the doubt that haunted her in the last months. She recognised the lies and excuses but something stopped her from questioning him. From bringing the situation into the open and confronting their crippled relationship. This morning’s encounter with him and his mistress, as they loudly breathed their excited pleasure, was simply a confirmation of what she already knew. He spent too many Sunday mornings catching up on delayed deliveries or urgent accounting. It all sounded so false, so lame. Apparently to have an affair with the East European waitress was worth risking losing all her family had worked for. Her father invested his life savings in the promising venture of his son-in-law. Her pleas to help the man she believed in did not fall on deaf ears, and her father was won over by her husband’s charm just as she had been.

Initially her husband worked well after the keys to the family business were placed in his hands. Happy to be the director of a small factory whose order books were already bursting with impressive orders. He seemingly slipped into the role effortlessly and applied his own strategy, which he maintained would ensure growth and even bigger market share. State-of-the-art machinery was immediately supplied and her father’s savings dwindled visibly. Her father, as her husband’s predecessor, started the company from scratch and put his heart and soul into the business. At first her father was not happy to hand it over to his daughter’s husband who was more or less a stranger to him. But he had no choice due to his failing health. Time passed and finally her father believed nothing could go wrong. A well-established manufacturing business with eye-watering margins on products in an economy where growth was a matter of course. The team her husband inherited was well qualified and ready to maintain the success story of the company’s founder. But then her husband’s interest in a structured way of life starting to wane and the employees eventually lost their loyalty towards him. The generous wage packets couldn’t compensate for a boss who didn’t adhere to schedules and who started to cut corners where quality was concerned.

The children were born in quick succession and she found it difficult to find the time to involve herself in the business. Her father began to warn her to keep an eye on his investment, but she did not heed his doubts, even as the gossip spread about the self-centred man her husband proved to be.

And now lately his interest in her had apparently also faded and he only pretended to kiss her as his cheek brushed hers on the doorstep each morning. She tried to interest him by changing her hairstyle and taking him to dinner when the baby-sitter was available. But he only watched other women pass his table while she attempted to engage his interest in her conversation.

The village had become a town, but it was still a village when gossip spread and its people were willing to listen to anybody’s shortcomings. There were those who were jealous of her good looks and wealthy family. And now they smiled with glee because her success story was speedily going downhill. The sensual waitress who made a beeline towards her handsome husband was telling anybody who would listen about her conquest. And eventually it came to her ears. She had been in denial for many months, but lately she was forced to notice how seldom he was at home and how his appearance became much more important to him. He smiled at himself in the mirror as he left the house, but there was no smile directed at the little toddlers who attempted to attract their father’s attention.

She hoped the fact that they were a family would remind him of all he was risking if he continued the affair, but his head didn’t function well at the best of times, and now he was too obsessed with his long-legged charmer to care about anything.

While she held the pillow to her face and allowed the tears to flow she felt some kind of relief that the truth had finally come out, but also painful fear because her world had been torn apart.

She heard his car on the driveway. The car door slam. His key in the front door. She could not budge. There was a huge weight holding her down and no energy left to free herself of her burden. He entered the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. She shuddered in his presence. His hand touched her head and she pulled away. The disgust she felt gave her the energy to stand up abruptly and face him. But no words came out as she stared into his expectant face.

She left the bedroom and ran down the stairs and through the hallway towards the front door, only picking up her handbag and jacket from the hallstand as she passed.

The engine roared for the second time that day as she headed for the motorway.

2

H e was standing at the gate waiting impatiently. The trip should have taken her less than three hours and he was worried about her after hearing the panic in her voice on the telephone. He tried to calm her. Told her to call her mother to take care of the children in her absence. Assured her that he could drive towards her to shorten the trip. But she asked him to await her arrival at the only place that offered her some form of tranquillity and he agreed.

Every few minutes he looked at his watch and then stared into the distance hoping to see her car. The view was blocked by the mountains that sloped into the lake and he could only see as far as the next bend. He started to dislike each and every car that sped along the winding road because it was not her car. How long was it since their last meeting? Perhaps five years? It made him wistful remembering the closeness they then shared, their passion. A love that lasted a summer long, until she returned home to start life as a married woman to the man she said she believed in. There was no choice left for her it seemed, when the man she loved was not hers for longer than a few stolen hours each day during that wonderful summer. While he stood waiting for her arrival he hung his head in shame that he allowed the affair to begin, but much more shameful to him now was the fact that he allowed it to end.

And then she was there jumping out of the car and rushing towards him. She looked dishevelled and tired. Her panicked escape had not made the best of her looks. She attempted to smile as she stood gazing into his eyes. Hello Paul she said. He whispered her name as he stretched his arms to hold her and repeated it over and over: Gabi……..

The five years apart disappeared into oblivion as the passion mounted within their hearts once again. They held each other for a long time standing outside the gates of the villa, both feeling a sense of peace and security. Then he led her up the driveway to the house, motioning that she should stay silent. The patient was not to be disturbed. Gabi’s car was parked out of sight. Only the personnel would know of her arrival. The patient must not be aware of the visitor.

His wife, Esther, was delicate – almost fairylike. In earlier years he was proud to stand beside her as her protector. Her lightness gave her an aura of purity and innocence. Her femininity rested deeply in every cell of her body; he was attracted to her like a moth to the light.

But her frailty did not lend her the strength to survive a world of seasons where winds blew and rainclouds hid the warming sunshine. The doctors advised her to build up her resistance. But no amount of vitamins strengthened her against the winter colds and summer flus. Finally, after years of health spas and careful attention, her body became almost ghost-like. Paul nurtured her as best he could but even his belief in better times started to wane. When he met Gabi five years previously he was already in the process of distancing his thoughts from the endless potions and therapies. But still he felt a special kind of love for his wife.

He was honest with Gabi from the start. They were attracted to each other from the moment their eyes met at the outdoor café. She was attending a language course in Como and was taking a break between lessons and homework. Paul saw her books on the table and thus immediately found a conversation-starter. They chatted about her course and he told her of his beginnings with the Italian language. Now ten years down the line his Italian was perfect, but he hadn’t forgotten the painful time when he tried to express himself in a foreign language all those years before. He encouraged Gabi to continue with lessons after her return to Zurich. They became pals, and some days later, lovers.

How different his relationship was with this energetic young woman, compared to his almost sacred behaviour in the love-making days he remembered with his wife. As the weeks passed he realised Gabi was easy to love but difficult to understand. She was about to get married. The man she had chosen had no credentials to offer, other than that he was handsome and charismatic. But Gabi was determined to start a family, and the fact that her husband-to-be had no fixed plans as to his future career fitted into her self-woven picture perfectly.

Paul had no desire to influence her. However much he loved to be with her, it was obvious that his time with Gabi would be a temporary affair. He returned home to spend time with his wife each evening when the maid went home, just as he did in all the previous years.

His office was in the villa but his work took him to other countries, and it would have been easy to meet Gabi in Zurich from time to time. However, he valued a wonderful memory over an affair that stretched out until the unavoidable happened.

They parted on the evening of her final language lesson but, underlined with an emotional lovers’ pact, swore never to lose contact. Gabi’s photos of her wedding day, and the children as they grew, put a smile on his face as he opened the envelopes at his desk in the ensuing years. They enjoyed sporadic telephone calls and romantic letters during their separation and somehow it would have seemed wrong to stop. Their lovers’ pledge of everlasting cherished memories somehow survived the years.

And now she was here. In his arms once again. Old memories returned to flood his mind. But he had to keep a cool head. His wife’s peace must not be endangered.

He did not want to hurt his wife. She was too precious to him. He knew his domestic personnel would play along with a game of secret lodger, if the reimbursement proved satisfactory. Paul showed Gabi to a guest room and told her to rest for a couple of hours. She didn’t want to let him go, now that she had finally found a safe haven for her stressed-out mind. But Paul quietly convinced her that their time together would benefit from a well-deserved rest. He closed her door silently behind him and walked along the corridor to his wife’s quarters.

His wife had fallen asleep on the couch in her sitting room in front of the open fire. He smiled lovingly as he stooped over her thin frame. He was almost reverent as he picked up her petite body and carried her to her bedroom. He lay her gently on the bed. She awoke with a start and clung to him like a rock in a rough sea. A sad smile formed on his lips. She needed him, but not in the way he craved. His advances were often rejected, even during the early part of their marriage. But he loved her to the point of self-sacrifice. Happy to hold her and protect her. He kissed her on the cheek and watched as she fell asleep once more.

Later that afternoon Rosita, the maid, glanced at the cheque Paul Westermann handed her and smiled a broad smile. It was more than she expected. It caused her no embarrassment to put the cheque into her apron pocket and nod her agreement to harbouring a secret guest. She believed that the rich had much too much money anyway, and she was no less than entitled to at least a small portion of it. In her eyes her boss had absolutely no idea of the real world where people struggled to survive.

Rosita knew to what cause the money would go. Miguel, her brother, would be happy to receive this donation towards his smallholding. She suffered watching him while he tried to maintain his dignity in a world unsuitable for ventures such as his. Miguel, was often on the verge of desperation in recent months. He was the sole remaining member of Rosita’s family and she felt a sense of responsibility towards him. He was six years her junior and her maternal instincts towards him were awoken after the death of their mother. She would continue to support him as best she could. Paul’s cheque would go straight to him.

For Rosita it was constantly painful to see just how difficult it proved for Miguel to patiently await a harvest. Sufficient enough to re-pay the debts that his courageous undertaking incurred. Several years passed and still he hadn’t reached his goal. Without his sister’s help he would have to forfeit his dream. Rosita would not allow that to happen.

The day Rosita watched her mother’s eyes close for the last time she vowed to herself that her younger brother would not suffer unduly. He was sixteen years old and people expected him to act like an adult, despite his grief. Their father had passed away two years earlier. Rosita watched her parents work all through her childhood years until they were on the brink of collapse. They each had to maintain three jobs in order to survive. On weekdays they worked on a nearby farm from 6 a.m. until 6 p.m. In the evenings they helped out in the kitchen of a smart restaurant in Como. At weekends they cleaned hotel rooms. To Rosita it seemed her parents were either working or sleeping from exhaustion. She rarely saw them smile.

Through their endless working hours her parents wanted to fully pay for the little farmhouse where they hoped to spend their later years. The surrounding land would have been sufficient to sustain them and their two children. But Rosita’s father died much too early in life, and her mother struggled alone to re-pay the mortgage on the modest piece of property after his death.

When the very last mortgage payment was finally made Rosita’s mother became ill, and within a week she died. Rosita was twenty-two. She was determined that the property would remain in family hands after all the suffering her parents had endured in order to make it theirs.

When Rosita went to work in the villa on the lake of Como her brother, Miguel, indeed became a man from one day to the other. He swore to make the best possible use of the land by achieving the highest yield on a crop that sold at an exhorbitant price. His plan was to make himself and Rosita wealthy. But the plan had not worked as yet and his desperation was growing. Still he was not giving up and each inadequate harvest fired his ambition to increase the yield the following year.

To initiate the business the local bank manager granted Miguel a mortgage on the property out of respect for his dead father, who had been an honest and upright man. It was a region where local people helped another. Far away from the cities where people were strangers to each other and false promises were often made.

Rosita watched Paul Westermann walk away and touched the cheque in her pocket. She smiled before she made for the kitchen to tell the other servants to keep quiet about the unexpected guest in the west wing.

3

G abi crept along the corridor trying to find out where the cries were coming from. Paul had told her to stay in her room or on her balcony until he returned, but the sounds were becoming more distressful, and she couldn’t concentrate on reading her book anymore. She didn’t want to allow someone to be in pain if there was anything she could do about it. Paul told her that his wife lived in this darkened part of the house, but a maid was constantly at her disposal. But now, when she was needed, the maid was nowhere to be seen, although officially she should stay until 6pm. Gabi had previously made a quick search of the kitchen and the gardens, but it seemed all the servants had disobeyed and taken a bit of time off while the master went into Como for a meeting.

The cries became louder as Gabi proceeded down the long corridor in the semi-darkness of the east wing. Paul told her that the blinds on the windows were permanently closed in this part of the house because light caused his wife discomfort. She was not to be disturbed under any circumstances. Gabi kept one hand on the wall as she took her silent steps. She shuddered in the eerieness of the darkened passageway. Then she reached a double door and realised the sounds came from within the room. What should she do now? If the lady of the house lay dying it was her duty to get help. On the other hand she had received strict instructions from Paul never to leave her room unless he was there to accompany her. But the cries from within the room made Gabi extremely anxious. Surely she would be expected to help someone who was in pain. Her conscience took over and she slowly put weight on the door handle and felt the door open.

She entered a large sitting room, over-filled with dark antique furnishings. A thought raced through her head that it resembled something from the nineteenth century. She swiftly passed the open fireplace towards a second set of double doors. The logs on the fire were only smouldering and allowing smoke to escape to the open doors of what was obviously the bedroom. Perhaps the patient had smelt the smoke and was frightened. Perhaps she even had difficulty breathing.

A few more silent steps and then she stood at the open bedroom doors. But then her feet refused to continue into the room, and her gaze became transfixed with shock as she tried to make sense of what she saw. Her body was motionless with horror but still her mouth opened wide until it froze. Before her in the middle of the room was a huge four-poster bed. She saw that the maid had rid herself of her uniform and was lying on the bed passionately making love to somebody who was out of sight. Gabi panicked. Could Paul have returned secretly to the villa to see the maid? Was he having an affair with this awkward, over-weight and unfriendly person? The thought ran uncontrollably through her mind and forced her feet to move forward. While her instincts took over she made big bold steps towards the bed. On reaching the edge of the bed she came to an abrupt halt and held her hand to her mouth in confusion. There on the bed lay a frail female figure obviously enjoying the pleasures the maid was administering to her.

For the second time in a couple of days Gabi felt nauseous. She watched as two faces slowly looked up to her in utter disbelief at being discovered. It is his slut the maid explained to her mistress in a voice full of hatred and repulsion. The frail lady drew the bedclothes around her in an attempt to retrieve some dignity. Get rid of her Rosita she hissed to the maid. He must not hear of this.

The maid jumped from the bed quickly, not even bothering to cover her heavy body as she lurched forward. Gabi ran as fast as her legs could carry her. She rushed towards her bedroom, praying as she ran that there would be a key to lock herself in until Paul returned. But the maid made a jump for Gabi’s legs and she became unbalanced and fell to the floor. As she struggled