‘Any Noteworthy news?’ I asked.
‘Well …’ he hesitated.
‘Yes?’
‘It’s just that …’ We were fast approaching a lorry apparently doing about two miles an hour. It was a hill but even so. Jon indicated and moved out into the middle lane.
‘It’s just that what?’ I said, once we were safely past.
‘I didn’t text you,’ he said, breezily, ‘because really, there was nothing to worry about.’
A gale force ten type of breeze. My stomach turned over.
‘What’s happened? Tell me.’
‘It’s okay—’
‘Now!’
‘Sophie’s had a bit of an accident.’
‘What! Why? What happened?’
‘All right, all right,’ he said, reaching across to pat my arm. ‘She’s fine. They’ve put her in a cast.’
Immediately I pictured Sophie with a broken leg. ‘Oh, no. Poor thing. But what …’ Then it sank in. ‘When was this? Where was Mollie?
‘Mollie was with me,’ he said. ‘Robert texted me about Sophie from the hospital. And we all thought the best thing would be for me to stay over at your place. Mollie was fine. I think she thought it all very exciting.’
‘Oh?’ I glanced over my shoulder again. They were both still asleep. ‘She didn’t say anything.’ I didn’t know what to think. After all my efforts to get Sophie to stay. I was glad Mollie had been looked after, but it felt weird that they hadn’t even sent me a text.
‘No, I know,’ Jon said, ‘that’s because I told her not to. Honestly, we didn’t want you to worry.’
Men. I could just imagine Robert and Jon deciding between them what I should and shouldn’t know about my daughter’s well-being. If Sophie …
‘So how is Sophie?’ I said. ‘Will she be able to get about?’
‘I expect so, although driving might be tricky.’
I remembered when Mum had broken her leg. She couldn’t even get in a car, let alone drive. The cast went right up to her hip. ‘Where is it broken?’
‘About here, I think.’ He demonstrated with the side of his hand, sawing just below the elbow.
‘Oh?’ I felt stupid for jumping to conclusions. Perhaps it was the memory of Mum’s fall down the stairs that made me think Sophie had done the same. We were crossing the Avon gorge, high above the river. Not that it was visible in the dark, but I could see the lights of Avonmouth in the distance and, further away, a twinkling necklace along the Welsh coast. ‘So, what happened?’ I said. ‘How did she do it?’
I was about to find out, but a plaintive voice from the back said, ‘Have we got anything to eat?’
When we got home, Mollie – even though she was almost asleep – insisted on giving Jon a big hug and whispering urgently in his ear, before she would go to bed.
‘What was all that about?’ I asked him, after I’d shooed her into the bathroom for teeth cleaning.
‘That? Oh, nothing. You know what she is.’ He quickly leant forward and kissed me on the cheek. The suddenness of it, his nearness and the jolt that ran through me made me gasp, otherwise I would have pressed him on what he meant. As it was, we stood looking at each other and for some reason the image of a weather house came into my mind. The figures, never touching, doomed to spend their lives apart. ‘I’m glad you’re back safe,’ he said, softly.
‘I’m glad I am too,’ I said and without a thought, put my hand up to his chest, the imperative to feel the beat of his heart irresistible.
‘What shall I do with these sheets?’ Mum stood at the door with a bundle in her arms. Both Jon and I jumped apart. ‘Oh, sorry,’ she said, ‘you carry on. I’ll leave them here.’ She dumped them on the sofa and went back into my bedroom, shutting the door behind her.
‘I’d better go,’ Jon said. ‘You have a house full and it’s late.’
‘Yes, I suppose you must,’ I said, wishing it early and the flat empty. ‘Thanks, Jon. For meeting us, looking after Mollie … everything. I really appreciate it.’
He waved away my thanks. ‘It was an education being with Mollie. She’s great company and funny. Like you. I even enjoyed …’ he paused, smiling rather ruefully, ‘I even enjoyed the responsibility.’
‘Well, well,’ I said. ‘Who’d have thought it? Perhaps I ought to go away more often.’
‘God no, don’t do that. We’ll all go next time.’
We both laughed and then checked it with a sort of happy but embarrassed, spluttery cough.
‘I’d better go,’ he said. ‘Don’t forget it’s the tableau photo tomorrow.’
I groaned. ‘God yes, tomorrow. But what about Sophie?’
Jon shrugged. ‘She says it’s amazing what you can do with the right props.’
My tomorrow began with Mollie clattering around in the kitchen. My gran’s kitchen has a door, my mum’s flat has a hatch through to the lounge-diner, I have an arch in my lounge-kitchen-diner. Soon, bedrooms and bathrooms will be under threat. I knew it was Mollie by the sound of Coco Pops filling a cereal bowl, a delicate shower compared to the clunking of Mum’s Weetabix. The trouble with sleeping on the sofa is that there’s no privacy. In fact, the sofa is the heart of the home it seems to me, not the hearth – who said that? – I haven’t even got a hearth, unless you count a storage heater. Mollie came and told me to ‘shove over’, then clambered onto the sofa, holding the telly remote in one hand and the cereal bowl, waving directly above my face, in the other.
‘Oh, no, Mollie.’ I hid under the duvet. ‘Not the telly. It’s too early.’
‘It’s ten past eight. That’s not early.’
I almost wished for adolescence. ‘Can’t you talk to me instead?’
She shook her head, pointing the spoon at her mouth full of cereal.
Defeated, I threw back the duvet and tried standing. Ten past eight wasn’t early, not if I was going to be at the studio by ten thirty. Urgent: coffee.
In the kitchen I grumbled loudly enough for Mollie to hear me. ‘Where is everything? What’s happened to the mugs?’
Above the jagged whines and crashes of the cartoon soundtrack, Mollie shouted back. She loved cartoons, they were her absolute favourite and commanded her total attention. So when Mummy asked her something, she didn’t give much thought to her reply.
‘I don’t know. Daniela put awa—’
Daniela? Not a sharp shock sort of a name, but that’s what I felt. How quiet it was suddenly, in spite of the noisy whizz-bangs. I put down the coffee jar and went and stood in the archway.
‘What did you say?’ I needed her to repeat it, just in the slightest case I’d misheard. She was silent, eyes still fixed on the telly, so I went and stood in front of the screen. She looked up at me, eyes shifting and scared.
‘Tell me,’ I said. My voice came out taught as a tightrope.
She shook her head violently and scooped another spoonful of cereal into her mouth. I could feel my own heart beating faster but not in a good way, not in the way it did only hours ago when Jon was saying goodnight.
‘So,’ I said, trying to keep my voice light, ‘was Daniela here then?’ About as light as a lead feather it turned out.
Mollie said nothing.
Remain calm, I told myself. Be reasonable. There’s no point in getting angry. She’ll only clam up.
‘Just bloody tell me! I shouted.
Mollie jumped and a few Coco Pops hopped out of the dish and polka-dotted across the duvet. Her face went white.
‘I can’t,’ she said, chin wobbling.
‘Yes, you can.’ I stomped into the kitchen and brought back a cloth but Mollie was picking up the little brown droppings one by one and pushing them in between her closed lips, the only way she could deal with such a conflict of interest.
‘I promised I wouldn’t,’ she said.
‘Did you now. And why was that?’
‘Why was what?’ said Mum, coming in with her glass of water that she always took to bed and never drank and exac
tly the last person I wanted to be there while I interrogated Mollie.
‘Oh … nothing,’ I said.
In the kitchen I smacked the switch on the kettle and stomped about, opening and shutting the cupboard doors. Now I could see she must have stayed for supper. Three dinner plates resting on top of the frying pan. And two wine glasses … who the hell would put wine glasses in the same cupboard as saucepans? And there was an empty bottle of red wine behind the bin. So they’d had a whole bottle? The bin was empty apart from a tea bag. A takeaway then, boxes straight in the bin downstairs. A ghoulish curiosity would have sent me to have a look if I hadn’t still been in my pyjamas. God, Daniela in my flat, with my daughter, with my man … except he wasn’t my man. Almost, but not really. I pulled too hard on the cutlery drawer, nearly emptying it on the floor. The kettle’s irritation seemed to increase with mine but it went quiet on boiling. I did not. The coffee got made somehow.
‘Are you all right, dear?’ Mum put her glass on the table. ‘I think you’ve probably stirred that enough, don’t you?’
I threw the spoon and regretted the percussion solo as it ricocheted round the sink. Suddenly, I felt as limp as the dishrag it settled on.
‘I’m going to have a shower.’
Such sanctuary is to be had in a shower. No one can hear you. Especially if the radio’s on. It was only when I got out, lobster pink and suffering to all intents and purposes from an excess of soap in the eyes, that I realised the radio was set to a channel I never listen to.
Another couple of hours and we’d all be in costume pretending to be other people. If only I could be someone else.
Chapter Twenty
Gesualdo 1590
I held my breath, listening to the footsteps coming up the stairs. They were slow and laboured, like the sound of a fat old man with too much food and wine inside him. I ran back and knocked on the door of the chamber.
‘My lady, be quick, someone is coming!’
There was a good deal of rustling and then Donna Maria appeared, her skirts and bodice very much awry.
‘Help me, Silvia,’ she said. ‘I shall go to greet whoever it is. Pray to God it is not Don Carlo!’
We were on the second floor, and although the main staircase in the middle of the house had fewer treads and was not so effortful to climb, the spiral stairs led directly to the outer chamber. I pinned back her hair as best I could and pulled her bodice laces tighter while she straightened her petticoat. Sometimes I wished we all walked about in sheets like the people in ancient times.
‘Go and meet them, Silvia. Delay them if you can. Fall down and block the way if you have to.’
I ran to the door. For one happy moment, I thought that maybe the owner of the noisy feet had stopped at the first floor and was wandering the rooms there. But no, another footstep and then another. I started down the stairs and, after the first turn, thumped the stair with my heel and gave a shriek. Then I sat down, tilted my cap to one side and rubbed my ankle. In truth I wished I really could be knocked out cold and therefore not come face to face with …
‘Laura!’
I couldn’t believe it. She looked absolutely terrible. White as the best linen, no, grey as the worst and clammy too. ‘In the name of God, what …?’ No wonder she was making such a row. In her arms she carried one of the large blue two-handled pitchers full to the brim with water. It would be heavy for a strong man, let alone Laura. ‘Here, let me help.’ I took hold of one handle and braced myself to receive the weight. ‘You half frightened me to death.’
‘Who’s there? Who is it?’ Above us stood Donna Maria. She took one look at Laura and her beautiful face shrivelled into ugliness. ‘You! Have I been disturbed because of you?’ One more step and we set the pitcher down on the floor. Laura tried to stand behind me but Donna Maria took hold of her ear and dragged her forward. ‘How dare you!’ she hissed into Laura’s face. ‘Get out of my sight at once and don’t come back.’
And with that she went back to Fabrizio, slamming the door behind her.
‘Laura,’ I said, ‘what possessed you to carry this all the way up here?’
‘Don Giulio,’ she said, whilst both snivelling and panting for breath. ‘It was him. He saw you both go, and Don Fabrizio too. That’s when he called me over.’
I knew it. Soon everything would be known.
‘But why this, Laura?’ I knocked on the side of the pitcher. It was one of the palazzo’s treasures. ‘Didn’t Don Carlo see you with it?’
‘Don Carlo? Pfft … he was busy with the musicians as usual. Don Giulio was furious with everyone. He said Donna Maria looked feverish and needed to be cooled down. That’s what he said. He didn’t care that I could only just lift it.’
‘Cooled down? He said that?’
‘Yes. And about time too, if you ask me.’
‘Oh, Laura,’ I groaned. ‘You’ve no idea what might happen if she was found out.’
‘I do know, Silvia. I know that I’ve got to go.’ Laura’s shoulders drooped. ‘She won’t let me stay here now, and it wasn’t my fault. If she wasn’t messing …’
‘Stop it. Don’t say another word.’ I glared at her, whispering loudly. ‘She’ll hear you.’
‘So what?’
‘Look,’ I said. I made her sit down on the top stair, then dipped my handkerchief into the pitcher and wiped her brow. ‘Just keep out of Donna Maria’s way for the time being and I’ll see what I can do.’
She gave a scornful laugh and I wiped my own brow. We both knew there was nothing I could do.
Laura gathered her things from under my bed. It was a sad bundle in the finish. A few clothes, and her little wooden box of sewing things, one of my father’s rejects I’d given her. ‘Go and see cook. Tell her I said you could sleep in the laundry.’
I sat on the top step after she’d gone and put my head in my hands. From downstairs came the sound of singing, one of Don Carlo’s pieces I’d heard a few times before. The trouble with his music was that bits of it sounded pleasing, but they’d be surrounded by strange sections that rambled on and on, clashing unpleasantly, as if the singers were having an argument.
From the inner chamber came a different duet, another that I was very familiar with and wished I wasn’t. I went to look out of the window, thinking that the noises of the street might drown out all the noise from inside the house. The air outside had remained heavy all day and rain was yet to fall. I hoped it would hurry up, for the next day I’d arranged to meet Salvo.
Thinking about him made me feel much better; but then, beneath me, I saw Laura slip out of the door. For the life of me I couldn’t understand what she was doing because she didn’t walk away, but crossed the street, set her bundle down and stood leaning against the wall. After a little while she sat on the ground looking even more pathetic than her bundle. I was about to call down when I heard a man’s voice say her name and she jumped to her feet. Then, to my horror, Don Giulio walked towards her. Although their voices were too quiet for me to hear, I could see very clearly, and there was no mistaking the bright coins that Don Giulio trickled into Laura’s hand.
Why was he paying her? Had she lied about him being angry and making her carry the pitcher upstairs? Perhaps he’d offered to pay her and she’d found it heavier than she’d expected. She must have been waiting for him, so it wasn’t a passing tip. He’d come out to find her especially and now they were speaking.
I jumped back from the window and rushed to the door of Donna Maria’s chamber. What was happening inside didn’t matter a jot. Laura had lied.
‘My lady, my lady!’ I banged on the door. ‘Please… it is very, very urgent. Don Giulio—’
‘Don Giulio?’ Donna Maria appeared clad only in a sheet. ‘Damn that man. What does he want?’
All the pity I’d ever felt for Laura was entirely washed away. As I told Donna Maria everything that had passed, Don Fabrizio rose from the bed. On any other occasion this would be a most interesting sight, but I was too anxious to pay he
ed. Once he had pulled on his breeches and arranged himself within, he came and placed a hand on my lady’s shoulder. A glance at his face and I knew he understood the danger of our situation. If Don Carlo should find him there…
‘Maria,’ he said, ‘Maria.’ I could see his hand was squeezing more and more tightly. He kept shaking his head too, and if I wasn’t mistaken, his eyes took on the glaze of early tears. ‘We are fools to love.’ He kissed her neck but she reared away from him.
‘Fools, Fabrizio? You say we are fools?’ Fire was in her eyes then and I stepped back a little. ‘There is nothing about our love which is foolish! How can you say such a thing? Are you not a Duke, and I, a Princess?’
She knew how to pierce a man to the heart, and Fabrizio raised himself up to his full height. I was reminded of when I saw a pair of lions being carried through the city by a group of travelling jugglers and acrobats. Even though they were caged, a hush went through the crowds when they went by. A full-grown boar or a bull is a fine animal and to be admired, but none of us had seen so much power contained in such sinuous beauty. I remember looking at the male lion’s paw, then down at my own hand, and feeling a little faint. As Fabrizio and Maria faced each other, I felt similarly feeble.
‘Where is your courage, Fabrizio?’ she went on. ‘Has it deserted you? Must I have strength enough for both of us?’
The Duke paled at this insult. ‘Princess,’ he said through clenched jaws and with taut fury in his voice. ‘I have no lack of courage. If I should die, it will not be with cowardly pleadings for mercy. It is only when I contemplate what harm may befall you, my fairest love, that I quail.’
It did not seem to me that there was any quailing going on between the two of them. But I was quivering enough for the whole city.
‘Then let us be as one, Fabrizio,’ said my lady. She placed both her hands on his chest, allowing the sheet to fall away from her breasts. ‘For without you what is courage? What is our life without passion?’
Secret of the Song Page 14