“I’ll keep an eye on these two. You do whatever you have to.”
“I’m not even sure how many will be down for tea. Guido’s back, but everyone else has disappeared. I don’t know what’s going on. Marianna hasn’t eaten at all today.” She sounded fretful. Marta liked order. She liked to know what was going on and she liked to programme things meticulously.
“Madam just came in. Not in the best of moods,” he said quietly, so the children couldn’t hear.
Marta raised an eyebrow. Piero grimaced. “However, I think you should prepare for everyone anyway. Maybe Marianna will come down, and I think Lapo’s in. What can I do to help?”
“You can get the tray ready: cups, saucers, etc. and I’ll make the tea. The girls are fine for the moment.”
They moved fast and when the tray was ready, Marta took the children to wash their hands. Then she picked up the tray and sallied forth, taking it up to the cool drawing room. Piero took the childrens’ hands and led them along behind her.
The drawing room was silent and empty. No one was there, and the only sound that reverberated through the house was a discordant, distant shrieking of angry voices that floated down from the floor above. Marta and Piero looked at each other in shocked disbelief. It was Ursula and Guido. Footsteps on the stairs brought them to their senses and Marianna came into the room looking tired but with a strange almost exultant smile on her lips.
“Fun and games,” she muttered.
A moment later Lapo came in grinning broadly. “Hello everyone. I see that tea is ready and I have quite an appetite. Those biscuits look quite delicious.” He swooped on the plate and took one. “I’m glad to see you’re up and about, Marianna. Feeling better?”
“Much better, thank you. You were quite right, you know.”
“I’m always right about the important things.”
Marta poured the tea and began handing it round while Piero settled the children at a small table. They all stopped, frozen for a moment, as they heard a car draw up. A few minutes later, Tebaldo came in. Meanwhile, the shouting from the next floor rose and diminished in volume, before reaching a sudden crescendo which was marked by the vicious slamming of a door.
They heard someone running down the stairs and then the front door slammed and a few minutes later a car took off at speed. Piero’s first thought was for the gravel. If things carried on like this the area in front of the house would be a disgrace.
“Another biscuit, Marianna?” Lapo thrust the plate under her nose with a smile. “I think we can eat them all. It doesn’t look as though Guido will be taking tea with us and I doubt Mamma will come down today.”
Marta gave him an anguished look and bustled out of the room. Tebaldo looked around and asked, “What’s going on?”
“Ructions,” said Lapo. “Where’s Isabella?”
Teo’s face darkened. “You mean she hasn’t come back yet?”
“No.”
“Oh.” He glanced at the children. “Well, I think I’ll take the girls down to the pool.”
“Yes, yes, Papa!” cried Arabella, jumping up and down with excitement.
“And me! And me!” shouted her sister, jumping up and down less expertly, imitating her.
“Don’t shout.”
“Granny was shouting.”
Teo almost choked on his tea. “Come on girls, let’s go and get your costumes and some towels.”
He passed Marta who was coming down the stairs.
“Is mother coming down? “
“No, she said she won’t. She has a migraine. She said maybe she’ll have a light supper in her room later.”
“I see, thank you, Marta.”
Marta scurried back to the drawing room where Piero was putting the dirty cups on the tray. Marianna sat in a chair staring out at the garden.
“Are you alright dear?” she asked.
“Fine thanks, Marta.” She hesitated, “Marta, have you heard anything about Roberto?”
“No, dear. I’m sorry. I’m sure we would have heard if things had got worse. No news is good news.”
“I suppose so.” She looked at the car keys Teo had tossed on the table and then resolutely picked them up and moved towards the door.
“You’re not eighteen till next month and you don’t have a driving license. You’ll get arrested.”
“Who cares? I’m going down to the hospital. You can’t stop me.”
“I can’t let you do that.”
“I’m going anyway.”
“I’m sorry, your mother doesn’t want you to see him and she was very firm about it, after the last time. Give me the keys.”
“The last time.” she said slowly, thinking back to when she had driven Roberto to the villa. It had been their last night together.
Marta took the keys from her and shook her head. “Believe me, Marianna, it’s all for the best.”
“What is, that Roberto’s dying? That was handy, wasn’t it, really opportune? You must all be overjoyed.”
Marta looked shocked. “That’s a terrible thing to say. None of us wished him ill.”
“Didn’t you? Come on, Marta, I’m not a fool.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“Don’t I?” Marianna gave her a hard unfathomable look and ran from the room. Piero who had remained silent during the whole of this conversation, made no comment.
“What’s going on with Madam and Guido?” he asked.
“God knows. She looks awful.”
“Perhaps they’ve broken it off,” he said in a hopeful tone. “That would be nice.”
“Not necessarily. God knows who she’ll take up with next. Guido’s bad, but she’s had far worse.”
“True, but Guido is more of a danger to the smooth running of the house.”
“You mean more of a danger to you.”
“Well, let’s put it this way, if she marries Guido. I foresee difficulties.”
The arrival of another car brought the conversation to an end. They heard Isabella come in and meet up with her husband and children.
“Mummy, we’re going swimming with Papa.”
“Good. I’m going to lie down. I can feel a migraine coming on.”
“Take a pill. Have a good rest and we’ll hope to see you at dinner,” said Teo firmly.
Isabella turned away in silence.
“It seems that everyone has a migraine today,” commented Piero, as soon as they’d left the room.
“It’s stress,” said Marta. “I’ve given Madam an injection, but I’ll be damned if I do anything for that little peasant upstart.”
“Marta, my father was a farmer.”
“So what? So was hers but she pretends he wasn’t. She’s all wrong. She sticks out like a sore thumb in this house and you know it. I’m sorry, I love the kids but I can’t stand her. I’d like to have seen Teo marry someone more suitable.” “With his past?”
“Oh come off it, Piero. You know as well as I do that everyone messes about when they’re young. They like to try things.”
“Marta, don’t you remember what he was like?”
“Yes, of course I do, how could I forget?” She said it almost bitterly as the memory of Teo’s thin white form lying across the steps of the villa in Florence rose before her eyes. She’d thought he was dead.
“Well then.”
“Even so, he could have done better than that.”
CHAPTER NINE
Isabella went slowly upstairs to her bedroom. It was cool and in semi-darkness, the outside shutters drawn against the heat. The air conditioner was quietly humming and she actually had to repress a shiver. She looked at the bed. It was large, big enough for them to sleep in together without touching, which was the way it had been for some time. She didn’t know what he wanted. He was driving her crazy with his constant criticism and this last week, since they’d come to stay with his mother, as they did every year in the summer, he’d seemed to step back and look at her through his family’s eyes, whi
ch had made it all so much worse. They all made her feel like some kind of serving wench. Who did they think they were? That bloody Ursula was little more than a whore, always with at least one man on a string and often more than one, and that revolting Guido was the last straw. How dare he look down his nose at her as though she didn’t know which fork to use. God, it was depressing.
She took off her summer dress and looked at her body in the mirror. She realised she’d let herself go. She was overweight and the depressing flabbiness of her striated belly, the result of two pregnancies, made her look older than she was. Thirty wasn’t old these days, yet somehow she looked old. She tried to look classy but she never quite managed it, no matter how much she spent. Perhaps the whole secret was not to have to try to look classy but to just be it. Her family had never had much taste. Her father, a self-made man, had retained the love of the kitschy style he’d liked before he made his pile. He believed that more is better and at least she’d learnt enough to know that wasn’t so. Less was better. Understated was good, and simple perfection was what she aimed at without ever achieving it. She realised her hair was too brassily blonde, her make-up too heavy. She felt great until she stood face-to-face with Ursula and Marianna, who didn’t even have to try, they just knew, they just were. A tear rolled down one cheek. She looked pathetic. She was pathetic. No wonder Teo didn’t care for her. Who would? What was she? They all thought she was useless, not right for Teo, especially Ursula, who was so quietly and calculatingly rude to her that she sometimes longed to strangle her. God how she hated her. She imagined beating her mother-in-law with a horsewhip and actually managed to smile.
Ursula lay on the bed with her eyes shut listening to the throbbing in her head. It felt as though her brain was going to explode. The slightest movement sent ripples of hammering agony through her skull as though her brain was crashing against the bone. Perhaps it was. Perhaps the awfulness of that afternoon had driven her brain into overdrive and it was pulsating with rage and horror. The implications of what that vile delinquent had hissed in her ear were quite clear and Guido’s reaction to her accusations had been hysterical, but not that of a man unjustly accused, no, it was the hysteria of a man who knew he was discovered and undone, like a snared animal terrified of death. Of course he’d denied everything, he’d begged her to remember how much he loved her and pleaded with her not to believe anything bad of him, but she knew. Deep down she had always known that what Guido did with her in bed was called servicing and now she had to accept that she’d been a complete and utter fool.
That vile Rossi family! They were like a dreadful canker in her life, the worm in the apple. Their repulsive way of living was an evil thing that had poisoned her life. Her lovely villa was contaminated by their presence and she knew she would never get rid of them. Tears poured down her cheeks and as she sobbed, her body moved and the pain in her head reached a new and terrifying peak.
Guido had rushed out of the house and jumped into his car without any idea of where he was going. He was shaking with fear. That stupid little clod Claudio Rossi had told Ursula, of all people, about him. Well, at the very least he’d hinted and that was more than enough for Ursula. Now he was going to be thrown out, after all the hard work he’d put into this. It was so ridiculous. Overseeing the work on the villa he’d run into the boy and had allowed himself to get involved in something really stupid, but what was a small peccadillo compared to months of good behaviour, so to speak. He couldn’t believe she wanted to end it, after all he’d done for her. He braked and parked in a lay-by. He was thinking furiously. He’d been an absolute fool. He’d overreacted to her accusations. He should have played a much more subtle hand but he’d been taken so unawares that he’d behaved like an idiot. Could he mend it? Was it possible? Would she accept an abject crawling acknowledgement of his sins and his avowal of sincere unhappiness at the thought of losing her? She needed him. She would come round in the end, but the immediate problem was what to do, where to go, where to sleep that night. Tomorrow he would think about how to make his overtures. He started the car and drove off towards Lucca to look for a hotel. There was no point in driving to his flat in Florence. He wanted to be near to hand. As for Ursula, he’d leave her to cool off for now. It would be pointless to try anything further at the moment. He needed her to calm down. He thought he’d phone her the next day, no, first thing in the morning he would send three dozen red roses and a note declaring his undying love. He smiled. It would be alright, it had to be alright or he’d make the bitch pay for it. He was not without resources and vendetta was always a wonderful dessert after a good meal, and up till now the meal had been excellent.
Marianna was back on her bed but this time she was not weeping and helpless. She’d had a sudden flash of understanding. Ursula, her mother, the bitch, the whore, was maybe something even worse. And Piero, where did he come in all this? A man of so many resources.
Now she had to get out of the house and go and see Roberto. A whole week of being locked in the house like some prisoner had been a waste of time. Let them try and stop her now. She picked up the phone and called a taxi.
Two hours later Ursula staggered out of bed and had yet another shower. She felt so awful that she stayed there under the gentle spray of cool water until she was actually cold, but at least her head was clearer. The injection that Marta had given her had worked. It had dulled the pain, brought it down to an acceptable level, but as always had left her feeling a little groggy. Now she dressed, took a good hard look at herself, squared her shoulders and opened the door resolutely.
To her surprise, the house was empty. She walked slowly through the rooms, trying not to jar her head with the movement, and found no-one. Finally, she went slowly down to the kitchen where preparations for dinner were under way. She beckoned Marta out and asked, “Where are they?”
“Who?”
“All of them.”
“Tebaldo has taken the children swimming, Isabella has a migraine, I think Marianna’s in her room and… everyone else is out.”
“Thank you.” She turned and walked even more carefully back upstairs keeping her head quite still. In the drawing room she picked up a magazine and sat flicking through it until, finally, she heard Teo arriving with the children. They were chattering happily.
Almost immediately after that a car arrived and for a moment her guts clenched as she thought Guido had come back, but to her surprise it was Marianna who came in. “Where have you been?” she asked abruptly.
“Out,” replied Marianna heading for the stairs.
“Whose car was that?”
“If you must know, it was a taxi.”
“A taxi! Where have you been?” Marianna ignored her and walked away.
“Marianna!” she yelled, reawakening the throbbing in her head. “Come back here. I demand to know where you went.” Marianna went up the stairs without replying.
Ursula fell back in the chair feeling that things were getting out of hand but knew she was incapable of dealing with anything. She put her hands to the sides of her head as though to keep it in one piece. She suddenly realised her two grandchildren were staring at her in surprise.
“Sorry I shouted. I’m a bit tired.”
“How’s the headache?” asked Teo.
“Bearable, just. I thought I’d make an effort and come down to dinner.”
“Good.”
“Will your wife be joining us?”
“I’ll find out,” said Teo evasively. “Come on, girls. Let’s go and get you something to eat. I bet Marta’s got something nice for you in the kitchen.”
He hurried them out, and left alone again, Ursula closed her eyes, while she did some deep breathing exercises to calm herself. She only opened them when she heard Lapo come in. She felt the customary thrill of pain that she always experienced when she looked at him. He was so beautiful and so ugly. It wrenched her heart. He was the only one of her children that she felt anything for now. After Marianna’s little problem, she had fou
nd herself unable to look the girl in the eye and had distanced herself from her. She knew it was probably because of her own feelings of guilt that this should have happened under her own roof, but she couldn’t do anything about it and she didn’t want to think about it.
As for Teo, well, when he had been a drivelling, snivelling, weak little drug addict she had despised him so much that not even his apparent redemption had changed her feelings. She still felt he was weak and that his determined respectability was very fragile.
“All alone, Mamma?”
“As you see, Lapo.”
“Where is… everyone?”
“Around. They’ll be down for dinner, except Isabella who seems to have succumbed to migraine.”
“What about you?”
“Marta gave me an injection. I can bear it now if I keep fairly still.”
“Want to talk?”
“No, I’m too tired, and I need to think things through.”
“What things?”
“None of your business. Where have you been?”
“Out with a friend.” He grinned at her.
“Whose name I shouldn’t ask.”
“Oh, you can ask, but I won’t answer.”
“Be careful Lapo. You go too far. I don’t want any more trouble.”
“I’ll be very, very careful.”
He moved away swiftly and she closed her eyes again, listening to his uneven steps on the stairs.
Jacopo Dragonetti left work and collected his car, but this evening he turned it towards the station where he was about to pick up Vanessa. They were going up into the hills to the north of Lucca where, after what he hoped would be an excellent meal, they were going to a concert. He had phoned her after lunch to suggest they go, and had then booked the restaurant. The train was due in at 17.29 but it was twenty minutes late, as he more or less expected it would be. It finally arrived, an elderly, graffiti covered train with all windows open as the air con had failed to work. Vanessa practically fell off it. “Remind me never to take the train again. I was nearly cooked in it.”
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