“I saw Costanza was here,” said Dante carefully. “She’s grown up, hasn’t she?”
“But little Floriana didn’t come,” his mother interjected mournfully. “I can’t say I wasn’t disappointed.”
Dante was surprised. “You invited her?”
“Why shouldn’t I? Really, Dante, you’re as bad as your father. She’s adorable, and I’m extremely fond of her.”
“Do you know where she lives?”
“So, she lives in a modest house in Herba—why should that make a difference? In fact, I don’t know where she lives, so I gave her invitation to Costanza’s mother.”
It didn’t take Dante long to work out what had happened. “I doubt that woman ever gave it to her.”
Violetta took off her glasses. “What are you suggesting?”
“That she’s a terrible snob.”
“You really think she would be capable of such unkindness?”
“Absolutely.”
Violetta’s face relaxed into a smile. “I do hope there is some mistake, but not misconduct. I thought it odd that Floriana didn’t come.”
“She would have loved to come,” Damiana reassured her. “She adores it here, and she adores you, Mamma. You’re the mother she has never had.”
“I’m sure Costanza’s mother wouldn’t have done it on purpose,” said Giovanna. “Perhaps she just forgot or mislaid it.”
“Perhaps,” said Violetta, draining her coffee cup. “Anyway, I shan’t ask her. I’m sure it’s an innocent mistake. But I will tell Floriana that she wasn’t excluded. If she didn’t get the invitation, she will be hurt that she wasn’t invited. Will she be coming today with Costanza?”
“I don’t know,” Giovanna replied. “I asked Costanza, and she said nothing about Floriana.”
“I’m sure she will,” said Damiana. “They usually come together, don’t they?”
Dante sat quietly, letting the women discuss the likelihood of Floriana turning up to swim, knowing for sure that she would. He wondered what his parents would think of him courting her. His mother adored her, but would she consider her good enough for her only son?
He watched her across the table. Violetta was from a middle-class family in Venice. Dreamy and idealistic, she was a woman who loved nature and animals like he did, and considered all creatures equal in God’s eyes. How extraordinary that she had chosen to marry Beppe, a man who had left his working-class home in Turin and built a fortune in Milan, making packaging for food and liquids.
They were opposites: one strong, the other fragile; one ambitious, the other unmoved by ambition; one loud and pompous, the other quiet and unassuming. For Beppe, reputation and social standing were all important; for Violetta, it was only the heart that mattered. It was all very well having ideals, accepting people for their natures not for their credentials, but when tested, would she be able to live by them? For the time being Floriana would have to be a secret Dante kept to himself.
After breakfast Dante went into the house with the intention of going up to his room when he bumped into Zazzetta in the hall. The little man smiled—a crooked smile, which revealed a sharp eyetooth that was slightly longer than the others, like a wolf ’s.
“Good morning, Dante,” he said, giving a barely perceptible bow.
“Zazzetta,” Dante replied. He had never liked his father’s fixer. There was something shifty about him.
“Your father wants to see you.”
“Now?”
“If you have nothing better to do.” Dante bristled. Zazzetta knew he had nothing better to do. He cursed under his breath and strode into the study, the black-clad adviser following silently behind.
“Ah, Dante, come in,” said his father, putting down his pen and looking up from the document he was signing. “Done, Zazzetta.” He dabbed his signature with a blotter and handed him the paper. Zazzetta placed it carefully in the black leather folder he was carrying and slid away, closing the door behind him.
“Let’s talk about your future.” Beppe was not a man to waste time with small talk. “You have finished your studies and your apprenticeship and made me proud, Dante. I was never given the opportunities you have been given.”
“I know, and I’m grateful, Father.”
“You’ve excelled youself.” He appraised his son with satisfaction. “You are everything I have ever wanted in a son. You’re handsome, intelligent, athletic, and shrewd. You’ve inherited the best of me and the best of your mother. It’s lucky that you haven’t inherited her flaws, eh?”
“Her flaws?”
“Don’t look so alarmed. No one is perfect. If you had inherited your mother’s gentle nature, you would be no good to me.”
“Her gentle nature is an advantage in a woman.”
“Indeed. But in a man, it is a weakness, and there is no room for weakness in the world of business. I didn’t make my millions being kind and gentle, but shrewd and formidable. As Machiavelli so brilliantly put it: Fear is the way a man commands respect. So, Dante, you will join me in Milan on the first of September.”
Dante was not surprised by his father’s instructions. In fact, he had always known he would be expected to join the family firm. However, he still felt apprehensive, as if a heavy barred door had just closed on his freedom.
“It will be reassuring to know that my son and heir will take over when I retire. I didn’t build my fortune to have it passed on to an outsider. So, what do you say?” His father did not anticipate a refusal.
“I’m ready, Father,” Dante replied dutifully.
“Bravo! Now, how about a game of tennis, eh? You might be younger and fitter than me, but I have the cunning of an old fox.”
They played a set on the rich red sand of the tennis court, assisted by Piero and Mario, the chauffeur’s sons, who made very fine ball boys. Halfway through the set, when Dante was winning and about to serve game point, he saw Giovanna walking in the gardens with Costanza. His heart inflated at the prospect of seeing Floriana, and he served an ace, passing his father on his backhand. Beppe was not a good loser and swore furiously, whacking his racket through the air. The distraction, however, caused Dante’s game to decline as he had one eye on the gardens, searching for Floriana.
“You see, there’s still life in this old dog,” Beppe taunted, as Dante hit another ball into the net. Keen to finish and find Floriana, Dante focused, pulled it together, and finally beat his father 6–4. Beppe was gracious in defeat because there was no shame in that score. He shook hands with his son, patting him firmly on the back. “I hope you are as impressive in the boardroom as you are on the tennis court.”
“I’ll do my best,” Dante assured him.
“I’m sure you will.”
Then Beppe noticed Zazzetta slinking through the olive trees towards them. “What now, Zazzetta?”
Dante left them together, talking in low voices, their heads together like a pair of thieves. He found the girls by the pool, but there was no sign of Floriana. “I came on my own,” Costanza explained when he asked after her. Dante noticed a new confidence in her deportment, the way she stood with her back straight and her gaze steady.
“Did she not want to come?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen her,” Costanza replied carelessly.
Dante frowned. “Well, Good-Night wants to see her,” he said, striding off towards the steps built into the rock. If she didn’t come on her own, he would go and get her.
24.
Dante climbed into his silver Alfa Romeo Spider, a present from his father on his return from America. Good-Night jumped onto the backseat and sat, tongue out, ready for another adventure. With the roof down and the wind raking through his damp hair, Dante roared between the cypresses towards the gate. He was astute enough to notice a change in the air around Costanza. It was no coincidence that Floriana hadn’t come to the party and wasn’t invited with Costanza today. She was being deliberately excluded. Well, he’d show them. He gripped the wheel determinedly and drove
down the coast towards Herba. In a few minutes he was driving up the cobbled stones between the ancient buildings, waving at the locals who stared at the beautiful car in wonder.
He parked right outside Floriana’s building on Via Roma and rang the bell. When no one appeared, he rang it again. Finally, the doleful voice of an old lady was heard on the other side. “All right, all right, I’m coming. Be patient.” The door opened, and the round face of the woman Dante took to be Signora Bruno squeezed into the crack. When she saw Dante, she recognized him at once. His eyes were, indeed, the color of a tropical sea. She opened the door wide and smiled sweetly.
“I’ve come for Floriana. Is she here?” His gaze strayed into the courtyard.
“No, she left about half an hour ago.”
“Do you know where she went?”
“I assumed she went to see you.”
Dante’s face darkened with frustration. “I don’t suppose she walks up the road.”
“Of course not. She takes the shortcut through the poppies.”
“Thank you, signora, you’ve been very helpful.”
“Signora Bruno,” she said, introducing herself. “I’m like a mother to Floriana. Have been ever since Loretta disappeared with the child’s little brother.”
Dante was astonished. “Floriana has a little brother?”
“Had a little brother.”
“She never said.”
“Well, she wouldn’t. It’s too painful, and children have a way of blocking out the nasty things. God only knows what’s become of them now.”
“That’s unspeakably cruel to choose one child over the other. What sort of woman could do that?”
“A very selfish one. I don’t suppose her tomato man wanted an older child. Little Luca was very sweet, and Floriana worshipped him.”
“What was the name of the tomato seller?”
Signora Bruno noticed the determined glint in his eyes and put a podgy hand on his arm. “Don’t go there, Dante. I know you want to put it all right, but you can’t. They are long gone. If Loretta wanted to come back and find her, she could, at any time. She knows where she is. But she doesn’t want to, does she? It is better that Floriana forgets about the past and concentrates on her future. She’s a bright, resourceful young woman. It’s only a shame that her mother can’t see her now, because she’d be very proud of the person Floriana has become, in spite of all the obstacles.”
“She’s lucky to have you, signora.”
“I know.” She waved away the compliment. “I’ll reap my rewards in Heaven, no doubt about that.”
Dante drove back up the road, his mind full of Loretta’s malice and the tomato man who lured her away. He’d give anything to find them. The truth was that he could find them. All he had to do was ask Zazzetta, and it would be done. He didn’t doubt the capability of that shady man. But perhaps Signora Bruno was right. What good would it do? Why rake it up and cause Floriana to feel rejected all over again?
As he drove up the road to the gates of La Magdalena Good-Night began to bark. At first Dante thought he was excited to be home again, but then he saw Floriana’s familiar figure walking slowly up the hillside towards the gates. She was wearing a floral sundress, her feet in sandals, her hair loose about her shoulders, carrying a handful of poppies and a small canvas bag. He tooted the horn and she looked up, shielding her eyes against the sun. He waved and tooted again, stopping the car.
Good-Night leapt out and galloped down the slope to meet her, nearly knocking her over as he crashed against her legs.
In a moment Dante was gathering her into his arms and kissing her. “Where have you been?” he asked, burying his face in her neck.
“I went to find Costanza first.”
“She’s already here.”
“I suspected she was.”
He looked into her face. “Did she not invite you to join her?”
“I don’t care. Look at your fancy car!”
“Come for a drive?”
“I’d love to. I bet it goes really fast.”
“If it goes too fast, Good-Night might fall out.”
“Darling Good-Night.” She patted him fondly. “He became my best friend while you were away. Look, he’s going gray around the muzzle.”
“He’s getting old.”
“But he’s still agile and swift.” As if to prove she was right, he trotted up the slope to the car.
Inside it smelled of new leather, warmed by the sun. Good-Night jumped onto the backseat again, wagging his tail expectantly. Floriana slipped into her seat and ran her fingers over the wooden dashboard.
“It’s a stunning car, Dante.”
“Father bought it for me.”
“How generous of him.”
Dante grinned cynically. “Generous, yes. But he sees me as an extension of himself, so it’s rather like giving himself a new car.” He started the engine. It growled like a lion, then the car sped off up the road, leaving the gates of La Magdalena far behind. Good-Night cowered on the backseat as the car lurched forwards. Floriana laughed above the rumble and threw back her head as the wind seized her hair and tossed it about. After showing off its speed, Dante slowed down so they could talk.
“You were invited to the party last night,” he said solemnly.
“No, I wasn’t,” she replied. “But I don’t mind, really.”
“No, you misunderstand me. You were invited. Mamma sent you an invitation, but she gave it to the countess.”
Floriana grew serious. “You mean, there was an invitation for me all along?”
“Yes. I suspect the countess forgot to give it to you.”
“I bet she did,” Floriana replied in a tone that suggested she didn’t believe it at all. “That woman has never liked me.”
“She’s jealous, that’s all.”
“She looks down on me. But I’m used to it, and I don’t care. What harm can she do me?”
“She can’t do you any harm at all.” He took her hand across the gearbox. “You’re with me now, Floriana, and no one will ever hurt you again.”
Costanza was surprised when Floriana came down to the pool with Dante. She was suddenly beset with guilt, wishing she hadn’t been so fickle and unkind in excluding her.
“Look who I picked up on the road,” said Dante, smiling triumphantly. He wandered into the changing room to put on his swimming shorts.
Costanza hurried over to her, desperate to excuse herself. “I’m sorry, Floriana,” she said in a low voice. “I expected you to be here already.”
Floriana tossed off her apology with a shrug. “How was the party?”
Costanza frowned. “It was wonderful. I so wish you could have been there.”
“I was invited, you know, but your mother forgot to give me the invitation. Easy mistake.”
“My mother?” Costanza stared at her in disbelief. “Are you sure?”
“Perfectly. Signora Bonfanti said she gave it to your mother to give me.”
“I don’t understand. Then why didn’t she give it to you?”
“She obviously didn’t want me to come.” Costanza looked horrified, and Floriana took her hand to reassure her. “It’s okay, I understand. I’m not from your world, Costanza. I don’t blame you, but I won’t pretend I like your mother.”
“Do you want me to say something to her?”
“No.”
Costanza was relieved—the thought of confronting her mother terrified her.
“Leave it alone. It doesn’t matter anymore. What’s done is done.” Floriana smiled, and Costanza was pleased to see her fighting spirit restored.
“Come swimming. Giovanna and I are seeing how many lengths we can do underwater.”
“How many can you do?”
“One and a half.”
“And Giovanna?”
“Two.”
“So, I will do three.” And Floriana marched off to the changing room to slip into her bathing suit.
Dante dived into the pool and swam a c
ouple of lengths of front crawl. When Floriana emerged in a pale blue swimsuit, Dante stopped swimming and trod water to watch her. She had developed curves in the five years that he had been away. Her waist was narrow, her hips wider, thighs fuller, and her breasts were plump and round. She was no longer the child he had said good-bye to, but a girl hovering on the brink of womanhood. He felt the familiar stirring of excitement in his loins and swam over to meet her.
Floriana jumped into the water. When she came up for air, Dante was right beside her, grinning broadly. He wanted to gather her into his arms and kiss her wildly, but he restrained himself for they weren’t alone. Instead, he whispered his desire into her ear then pulled her underwater again to steal a kiss where no one could see.
Damiana came down to sunbathe with a couple of friends, and soon the pool was full of young people, splashing in the water, drinking juices on sun loungers, and chatting in the sunshine. Costanza played with Giovanna. They tried to include Floriana, but after proving to everyone that she could hold her breath underwater longer than anyone else, she swam off to be with Dante. This didn’t surprise Costanza; Dante had always been fond of Floriana, and she knew Floriana was in love with him. It didn’t occur to her that Floriana’s feelings were reciprocated.
When they went up for lunch, Violetta was overjoyed to see l’orfanella, as she was now known in the family. She swept her into her arms and kissed her happily.
“I’m so sorry there was a muddle over your invitation, Floriana,” she said, looking genuinely unhappy about it. “I gave it to the countess because I didn’t know where you live. My fault entirely, I should have asked you—or given it to you directly. I’m mortified that you might have thought we didn’t want you.”
“I would have loved to come, but I’m happy I wasn’t forgotten,” Floriana replied truthfully.
Dante put his arm around her shoulder. “She’s here now,” he said, and only his mother detected the unfamiliar tone in his voice.
She watched them sit down together and could almost see the vibrations quivering between them like heat evaporating off a hot road in midsummer.
Beppe presided over the lunch table. He made a great fuss of Costanza. Floriana was down the other end, but he wouldn’t have paid her any attention had she been seated on his right-hand side. Costanza was the daughter of a count and the niece of a prince, and that was all there was to it. Dante and Floriana might as well have been at a table of their own. With their heads together, chatting and laughing like old friends, they had no interest in anyone else. Violetta watched her son with interest, and a little sadness, because there was no possibility of this young love maturing into anything greater. She considered her husband’s wealth and position, and pondered on the divisive force of money. Once, Floriana would have been acceptable. Now, Beppe would have his sights on a girl like Costanza.
The Mermaid Garden Page 29