21.
Tuscany, 1971
Floriana lay on the beach, her gaze lost in eternity. She considered the stars, so bright and vibrant, and wondered how many of them had already burned themselves out long ago, leaving their light to shine on like memories. She imagined death like that. Her mother might just as well be dead, for she wasn’t ever coming back. Floriana accepted that now. Once there had been an afterglow of memory as bright as those stars, but now it, too, had run its course. She could barely remember what her mother looked like. She certainly had no recollection of her little brother. But she did often wonder where they were and if her mother ever thought of her. Those meanderings of her mind used to cause her pain, and in a strange way she had taken pleasure from the discomfort, like the tongue that seeks the hurting tooth. Now her heart had hardened and she felt nothing, not even resentment.
It had been almost five years since Dante had left, and she thought of him every day. She was almost sixteen, a young woman, yet inside she was still the little girl peering in through the gates of La Magdalena; and she still loved him.
After he left she believed her world had imploded, and her will to live had collapsed. Without Dante in her life, what was the point of going on? She had sought comfort in the Church, for no one else cared but Jesus, and He had reached out and touched her heart, whispering quietly in her ear so that no one else could hear. He had told her to wait, that the day would surely come when Dante would return and ask her to marry him. So, she had dried her tears and straightened her shoulders and resolved to do exactly as He commanded, for Jesus and His mother, Mary, loved her—and in case they got diverted by someone else’s troubles, she went to church every day to light a candle for Dante, and to remind Them that her prayers were a priority.
The following summer Costanza was invited up to La Magdalena to play with Giovanna, the youngest Bonfanti child. It transpired that Costanza’s mother had approached Signora Bonfanti at Mass and suggested getting the girls together. Signora Bonfanti had been delighted, embracing Costanza’s mother like a long-lost friend. Contessa Aldorisio had not mentioned Floriana. She was keen for her daughter to find girls of her own class to play with, now she was growing up. But Costanza had insisted. She was too frightened to go on her own, and well aware that it was Floriana who had captured their hearts, not her. The countess had relented on the condition that once she was comfortable with Giovanna she leave Floriana behind, and besides, now she and Signora Bonfanti were reacquainted, she would take her to La Magdalena personally, so she was not in need of an escort.
It wasn’t long before Costanza and Giovanna were firm friends. Like Costanza, Giovanna was timid and uncertain. She had none of her sister’s confidence nor her brother’s charm. Floriana hung around them, but she soon grew bored of their games. She longed for Dante to walk through the trees, but he had gone, and she didn’t know when he’d be coming back. So, Floriana played with Good-Night. The dog was the little bit of Dante she could hold on to. She taught him to retrieve, to sit when he was commanded, and to follow her as she weaved in and out of the trees. They played hide-and-seek and endless other games she devised for him, and sometimes she’d put on shows for Giovanna and Costanza, who would sit together in their fancy dresses and clap prettily as if they were at the theater.
Damiana was delighted to see Floriana again and mothered her as she had done the summer before. She let her retrieve balls when she played tennis with her girlfriends and invited her up to her bedroom to help her choose which dresses to wear. But Floriana’s heart longed for Dante, and in spite of all the attention, Villa La Magdalena seemed empty without him.
If it hadn’t been for Signora Bonfanti, Costanza’s mother would have made sure Floriana stayed at home. But this fey, dreamy woman with the delicate beauty of a sylph fell in love with l’orfanella in the same way that her two elder children had. She had heard her tragic story from Dante and resolved to embrace the child with all her maternal love, which she had in abundance, having longed for many more children than three.
On her initial visit, she took the little girl by the hand and led her into her mermaid garden, where Floriana had sat with Dante the first time she had entered the grounds of La Magdalena. There they had remained for the entire afternoon, watching the fountain, listening to the birds, and sharing thoughts and ideas. Signora Bonfanti found in Floriana a child who shared her love of nature and her insatiable curiosity about the world. Floriana found in Signora Bonfanti a gentle mother who threaded flowers in her hair and read her poetry and stories. A mother who took trouble with her the way her own mother never had.
Little by little Floriana had become a permanent fixture at La Magdalena. As permanent as the stray dogs and cats that Dante had adopted. And like the stray dogs and cats, she was patted and teased with affection by everyone, except Contessa Aldorisio, who resented her presence there, as if it threatened her secret ambitions for her daughter. She need not have worried, for Giovanna grew to consider Costanza a sister and they remained in contact during the winter months when Giovanna was back at school in Milan. Floriana visited La Magdalena every day, although the family had long since departed, and took Good-Night off into town to chase pigeons in Piazza Laconda. The dog became her constant companion and her greatest pleasure. Unlike Costanza, who was too grand to talk to staff, Floriana had made friends with the locals who worked at La Magdalena, and when she wasn’t in school or at Mass, she often hung around the gardens, playing with the animals and talking to the gardeners.
Alone again, Costanza sought the company of her old friend, and Floriana was happy to be welcomed back. But now they had to meet in town, or on the beach, for Costanza’s mother was doing everything in her power to separate them. Costanza was thirteen now and resented being told what to do and who to be friends with, and she felt a strong loyalty to Floriana. But Contessa Aldorisio was confident that one way or another the two girls would eventually grow apart. It was inevitable, considering their lives and the stark differences of their class. If it didn’t happen naturally, she would give it a little helping hand.
Another summer blossomed, the second since Dante’s departure, and Floriana felt his absence more acutely than ever. Long, languid days at La Magdalena ensued, full of beautiful people, large lunch parties, and afternoons in the mermaid garden, reading poetry. Signora Bonfanti invited Floriana to help make a picture mosaic, and they spent hours in the conservatory cutting out small squares of paper and sticking them onto canvas. Floriana loved being close to her, while Good-Night lay snoozing by her side. There were pictures of Dante all over the house, and sometimes she would glean bits of news as Signora Bonfanti processed her thoughts out loud in rambling soliloquies. It seemed that Dante was doing exceedingly well in America but that his future lay here in Italy, where he was expected to rise to great heights in his father’s company.
Floriana did not like Signor Beppe. He had none of his son’s charm or benevolence. His face was handsome in a hard way, his frown low over dark, shrewish eyes, and his neck was thick like a bull’s. His mouth was twisted in repose, cruel in mirth, and when he laughed, it seemed superficial, as if he did it for affect and not out of joy. His mind seemed constantly occupied by work, and he was always being called to the telephone, or in his study talking to men in black suits, smoking cigars that reeked into the marble hall. Signora Bruno said that Beppe Bonfanti was part of the local Mafia and had actually had people killed, but even though his eyes were remarkably cold, Floriana dismissed the old woman’s gossiping as rumor. She couldn’t believe that Dante’s father was a murderer. That he was fearsome was without doubt.
He was shadowed constantly by Zazzetta, a wiry, sinister little man with a bald head and aquiline nose who whispered in his ear and wrote things down in a black notebook. Signor Beppe listened to him more than anyone else, and he seemed to have the power to grab his attention with as little as a raised eyebrow. Signor Beppe relied on him for everything, calling him his braccio destro—his right-hand man
. Floriana didn’t like Zazzetta, either.
Signora Bonfanti kept out of her husband’s way, and he never sought her out. He barely noticed Floriana, in the same way that he never noticed the stray animals who hung around the terrace at lunchtime, but he did notice Costanza. He seemed to enjoy his youngest daughter’s flowering friendship and asked Costanza endless questions about herself and her family. Costanza told Floriana that Beppe had invited her parents to dinner and that they were now close friends. Floriana didn’t see the significance of this. She cared only for Dante, his mother, and his dog.
Five long years had passed since Floriana first met Dante and now summer was here again. But this time it would be better than any other because he was coming home. She had heard from Costanza, who had heard from Giovanna, and there was to be a big party to celebrate his homecoming. Floriana lay on the sand and felt a shiver of excitement ripple across her skin. Dante was finally coming home. They would be reunited at last. It never occurred to her that he might have fallen in love with someone else, or that he wouldn’t fall in love with her, because she had lit a candle every single day for almost five years and sent her wish up to Jesus. With such constant badgering it was inconceivable that He would have the heart to ignore her.
“So? Which do you think? The blue or the white?” Costanza asked the following afternoon, laying the dresses on her bed. They had taken care to sneak into the house while the countess was out, and their mischief gave them a heightened sense of excitement.
Floriana sat back against the pillows and took a good long look at both. “Well, the blue is pretty; the white is a little bridal, don’t you think?”
“So, the blue?”
“Put it on.”
Costanza didn’t need further encouragement. She hurriedly slipped it on and stood before the long mirror that leaned against the wall. She was curvier now, her breasts large, her hips wide above short, porcine legs and small trotterlike feet. She loved her food and ate copious quantities of bread and pasta for comfort while she lamented her clumsy body.
“Do I look fat in this?” she asked, biting her bottom lip and pulling her stomach in.
“Of course you don’t,” Floriana lied. “You look voluptuous. Italian women are meant to be voluptuous.”
“You’re not.”
“I have hips and breasts.”
“Not like mine.”
“But you have the grand title and parents. Which would you prefer?”
“I should diet.”
“Then diet.”
“It won’t make a difference in time for tomorrow night.”
“Then eat and be happy. The blue looks lovely, really it does.”
“What are you going to wear?”
“I have nothing special. I’ll probably borrow a dress of Aunt Zita’s. She’s more or less the same size and she’s very vain, so she’ll have something pretty.”
“You can borrow some of my jewelry,” Costanza volunteered, suddenly feeling sorry for her.
“Really?” Floriana’s eyes widened.
“Let’s have a look.” She hurried to her dressing table and opened her jewelry box. “These were my grandmother’s,” she said, withdrawing a pair of diamond earrings.
Floriana gasped. “They’re exquisite.”
“Put them on.”
“I couldn’t wear those.”
“Why not?”
“Your mother will have a fit.”
“She won’t know until it’s too late. Anyway, why would you care what my mother thinks? Here, put them on.”
Floriana clipped them onto her lobes. She pulled out the stool in front of the dressing table and sat down, then looked at her reflection with wonder. The white diamonds shone like icicles against her brown skin.
“See how they light up your face?”
“They’re beautiful.” Floriana sighed, pulling her hair away from her neck. “I love the way they catch the light and twinkle like stars.”
“Then borrow them.”
“Oh, I couldn’t. They’re too valuable.”
“Please, it would give me pleasure to see you in them.”
“I feel like someone else—an impostor.”
“But you look like a princess.”
Floriana stared at her reflection, her heart expanding with a sudden longing for something she could never be.
“My mother has a big jewelry box of gems, all inherited from my grandmother,” Costanza continued. “I’m going to inherit them all one day.”
“You’re very lucky.”
“I know. But that’s all I’m going to inherit. Papà lost a fortune and still hasn’t managed to make it back. Mamma hopes I’ll marry money, then we’ll be rich again.”
“I’m sure you will,” Floriana said vaguely, gazing dreamily at the diamonds.
Costanza flinched as they heard the front door slam downstairs. Floriana snapped out of her trance. “Is that your mother?”
“It can’t be.”
“You said she had gone out for the day?”
“She has.”
Floriana hastily pulled off the earrings and placed them on the dressing table. “Well, if she catches me here, so what? What’s the worst she can do? I’m certainly not going to steal out of the window like a thief.”
Costanza wrung her hands anxiously. “You’re my friend and that’s that,” she said, trying to be brave.
They heard steps on the stairs, then the countess’s familiar voice. “Costanza!” Costanza threw her friend a helpless look. “I’m in my bedroom, Mamma.”
The door opened, and the countess peered in. When she saw Floriana, her initial reaction was one of horror, but she swiftly composed herself and forced a saccharine smile. “Hello, Floriana,” she said tightly. “What are you two up to?”
“I’m trying on dresses for the party.”
Her mother scrutinized her daughter. Distracted by her ambition she strode over to get a better look. “I like the blue on you,” she said, grabbing the skirt and pulling it down. “Though, it’s a little tight.”
Costanza sighed. “I’m holding my stomach in.”
“Not enough,” replied the countess briskly. “Too much pasta, my dear.”
“I could wear the white.”
“And look like a meringue?”
Costanza’s exuberance deflated like a balloon. “What shall I wear, then?”
“You shall wear this one, but Graziella will let it out for you.” She noticed the diamond earrings on the dressing table and guessed that Floriana had been trying them on. She inhaled through dilated nostrils. “And you can wear these,” she said. “Floriana, the earrings, please.”
Floriana suffered a stab of disappointment. She lifted them carefully and dropped them into the outstretched hand.
“I was going to lend them to Floriana,” Costanza exclaimed without thinking.
“To Floriana? Whatever for?”
“For the party.”
The countess gave a little snort. “My darling, Floriana isn’t going to the party.”
Floriana’s anger mounted. “I am going to the party,” she interjected firmly.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, my mistake. I didn’t know you’d received an invitation.”
Floriana flushed. “An invitation?”
“Yes, you can only go to the party if you have an invitation.”
“You have one, don’t you?” Costanza asked as her mother clipped the earrings onto her lobes.
“There, that’s better. Nothing like diamonds to lift a frock.” She smiled at her daughter. “You look quite lovely, Costanza. You’ll be the belle of the ball.”
Floriana felt dizzy with mortification. “No, I don’t have an invitation,” she replied quietly, and to her fury her eyes began to sting with tears.
“She can come with us, can’t she?” said Costanza.
“I wish she could, darling, but if she hasn’t been formally invited, it would be rude.”
“But Signora Bonfanti adores her.”
Costanza bit her lip. She wanted to wrap her arms around her friend, but her mother stood between them.
Floriana drew back her shoulders and lifted her chin. “You’re right,” she said. “It’s only a party. And you, Costanza, are going to shine brighter than the brightest star.” She was damned if she was going to let the countess see her cry. “I should go now.” There was an awkward silence as she stood up to leave.
“You don’t have to,” said Costanza at last, bravely defying her mother.
The countess pulled a sympathetic smile, but it was void of any real feeling. “She’s very strong,” she said as Floriana closed the door behind her.
“Why haven’t they invited her?”
“Because she’s not of our world, darling.”
“Does it really matter so very much?”
The countess placed her hands on her daughter’s shoulders and fixed her with eyes as cold as gunmetal. “Listen to me, Costanza. It matters more than you can imagine. You are from a good family—don’t ever forget that. Money comes and goes, but you’ll always be an Aldorisio. Floriana is a nothing, a no one. She’ll marry one of her kind, and you’ll forget you were ever friends. But you, my love, will marry one of your kind—or at least a man worthy of you in terms of wealth. Life is tough. It will roll over you if you’re not nimble enough to jump on top of it.”
Costanza nodded, but her eyes slid to the door.
Her mother pulled her by the chin. “Look at me, Costanza, and tell me that you understand.”
“I understand,” she replied.
“Good. Now, diamond earrings, yes, they’re very pretty, but I think we can do better. Come with me, I have far more beautiful diamonds in my jewelry box.” She tossed the earrings onto the dressing table.
* * *
The Mermaid Garden Page 26