‘Does that include Julius? ’
Antonia remained tight-lipped and began pacing the living room floor.
‘I can tell you only so much,’ she said eventually. ‘After that, you must leave and not return. Agreed? ’
He had little choice in the matter. ‘Agreed. ’
‘I need to protect my family,’ she continued, her deep set eyes moistening. ‘I need to live a normal life. ’
Overcome by a mixture of wine and sheer tiredness, he empathised immediately with her. It was the very least she could expect from him.
For the next two hours, he listened quietly to Antonia’s confession. She explained that her initial introduction to Julius was as a professional model for one of the life classes, which he held at Laburnum Farm, often in the great tithe barn in the garden. Students would come from all over the county, and beyond. They had been special days, a heady mix of serious work and serious play. After a time, she had developed an emotional and spiritual connection to both Julius and Lauren, often staying over for the weekend. Eventually, she was invited to live at the farm permanently. It was a perfect arrangement. Antonia had found a home.
Being so young and carefree, crazy parties and booze was a big thing in their life. The parties could last up to three days. On many occasions, over fifty people would clamp down, spaced out on a heady cocktail of drink and drugs and music. These were wild, wild times, she emphasised, as if in preparation to help tell what was coming next. Michael listened. An incredulous look spread over his face. His misspent youth was never like this. Clearly embarrassed by her past, she reluctantly went on with further lurid details…Was he ready for them?
Lauren and Julius were more than family to her. They were everything. During these parties, it was not uncommon for things to get out of hand. Free love, and all that. Sex was available, and Antonia was a free spirit. On one such occasion, she found herself drunk and in bed with Lauren.
‘It was a fabulous and intense relationship,’ Antonia said. ‘I loved her, and she loved me. We were lovers for six months. But I was growing up, confused, and my feelings for Julius grew. It’s just something that happens. ’
She looked flattened, sad.
‘Take your time,’ he said softly.
‘Of course, this couldn’t go on. I was sleeping with them both, for Christ-sake! One night, Lauren discovered Julius and me together, and she went berserk. Jealousy and tension came between us. I felt like a puppet tossed from one to the other. I became suicidal…Do you understand what I went through, Michael? ’
He nodded his head gently, but his reply was a lie. ‘I do. ’
‘There was no way out, each one of them wanted to possess me. Own me. For Lauren in particular, I had become an obsession. I was trapped. ’
‘But, you loved Julius, am I correct? ’
‘Yes, more than life itself. We planned our escape. By this time, Lauren was threatening us. ’
‘Harming you? ’
‘Julius, especially,’ she emphasised. ‘Once, she attacked him with a hammer. On another occasion, she used a knife. Luckily, he always managed to defend himself and disarm her. It became too intense for me. I was terrified. One day, I escaped. Julius promised to follow me, but somehow he stayed. She appeared to have a hold over him. He was almost like a prisoner, held captive by unseen chains. It was bizarre. ’
‘What did you do? Where did you go? ’
‘At first, I found refuge in Scotland, staying at a house near Loch Lomond, which belonged to Julius’s brother. I was safe there. I waited for everything to calm down. I waited for Julius. ’
‘Did he come? ’
‘Yes, eventually. ’ She smiled. ‘It was a big surprise. They were glorious, happy days: just the two of us. We planned a new life, away from her. That’s when we decided to hide our identities. Julius had always wanted to write, and I wanted a child. We planned to run away to Venice. I knew people, had contacts. If we could disappear without trace, Lauren could not find us and hurt us. ’
‘And that is what you did? ’
‘Yes. I became pregnant very quickly, but I lost the baby. ’
‘Manuella…is this little girl your lovechild with Julius? ’
‘Yes, our prayers were finally answered. ’
‘What happened to him? Why isn’t he here with you? ’
Antonia sobbed from the heart. Michael brought her water from the tiny kitchen whilst she somehow composed herself.
‘I’m sorry. This is so difficult. Julius had to return to confront Lauren. I begged him not to go. But there were things that had to be resolved, he told me. It concerned money. There were big issues that I never understood. I didn’t care for any of that. I just wanted Julius. ’
‘And he never came back? ’
‘No. ’
‘Why didn’t you call the police? ’
‘Before he left for England, he made me promise that if anything happened to him, I was not to call the police. He said the past would be raked up and he wanted to protect me. ’
The silence between them was like death itself.
***
As the story unfolded still further, Michael learnt about the suffocating fear which Antonia lived under. From afar, she searched for the whereabouts of Julius through friends and family. But to no avail. In the end, she even suspected that his family wished for her to stop meddling. In her paranoid state of mind, she found herself questioning her own sanity, the betrayal of all those she trusted and the overriding sinister shadow of Lauren O’Neill. With a daughter to fight for, Antonia abandoned her search and stayed in her homeland to escape the forces beyond her control.
Michael was not entirely convinced by her story. On each turn of a stone, every person in the equation had a plausible reason for his or her individual path of action. If Julius had met an untimely death, then a police operation would surely have uncovered it. If Julius were alive, why would he deliberately choose not to see his daughter? If he were indeed alive and well and living anonymously, he would surely wish to do so in the bosom of his beloved family. Was Antonia telling the whole truth? Was this all a charade, an attempt to show him he was searching in the wrong place? It was a compelling act, if that is what it was. How could he tell? Should he trust this girl called Antonia?
He tried another avenue of enquiry, in order to make some common sense stick convincingly. His aspirations were not high, but he pushed forward cautiously in the hope of breaking new ground.
‘Antonia, I feel we’ve met before. ’
She raised her eyebrows. ‘I don’t think so! ’
‘Are you familiar with the work of Patrick Porter? ’
‘I am, actually. Julius and Lauren began collecting the odd piece when they had a bit of money to spare. ’
‘I’m puzzled,’ Michael said. ‘The collection is now considerable, and worth a substantial investment value. For instance, I once sold an original for £55,000. It was called ‘A’ on green silk, and featured a beautiful girl not unlike you, in fact. The resemblance was uncanny.’
‘Meaning? ’
Michael held back from mentioning the entire twelve paintings at the farm, which also featured this same girl. This would undoubtedly spook her and give the game away if she knew that he was armed with so much incriminating evidence. He didn’t want to overcook things, not at this stage anyway. As a child, his mother taught him that in cooking the best way to extract vital juices from the raw ingredients was to slow boil and then simmer. This process he adapted from the kitchen to the art of interrogation.
‘Well, did you ever model for him? ’
Her eyes flickered. ‘No, Michael. I can’t think why you would think that. It is purely coincidental that I remind you of this girl. ’
‘Yes,’ he replied. The tension in the air could have been cut with a
knife. Michael had his answer. She had lied to him again, but what would her reason be to deny it so emphatically? During Antonia’s earlier conversation, there was a message of sorts hidden in the reference to Lauren and her being “lovers. ” Shocked though he was by this revelation, this suddenly became important to him, but he was damned if he knew why. Like a dog with a bone, he wouldn’t let it go. For the time being though, he chose to ease off: to simmer gently.
‘You have my story, Mr Strange. Will you now leave me in peace?’
Michael stood to go. ‘I’m flying home first thing in the morning,’ he said by way of reply, giving her the reassurance that she sought. In spite of the trust being broken, he decided to believe her story, for the moment at least. Besides, as a mother she was entitled to wish for a world without fear and harm. Above all, she was free to find happiness and fulfilment, on her own or with another. It was not his right to judge. This girl, this room, this life, was real.
Or so he thought. Then something caught his eye.
‘Do you paint? ’ he asked casually, embracing her fondly before his departure.
‘Like Julius? No. ’ She pulled away from him. Facing her, he stared intently into her eyes. Eventually, she said, ‘I can draw competently, but actual painting is a different discipline. My daughter could do a better job! No, music is my talent. I occasionally play the viola. ’
‘Your father then? ’
‘No, none of us has that rare talent. My father writes poetry, my mother, well, she acts as a childminder for Manuella now. She used to be a beautician. Why do you ask? ’
‘Simply conversation. ’ He shrugged. He casually picked up a threadbare rag doll from the sofa and held it, smiling to himself.
‘Signor Cielo,’ Antonia said, explaining, ‘That’s Mr Heaven. ’
‘Isn’t it supposed to be a little girl? ’
She smiled and gently took it from him, ‘Yes, but we haven’t the heart to correct Manuella as yet. ’
Michael moved toward the door. ‘Good luck, Antonia. I sincerely hope you find what you are looking for. ’
‘I will. ’ They kissed a final farewell.
***
Down on the street, Michael breathed in the early night air. It had been suffocating in the apartment. Whilst talking with Antonia, his eyes had inadvertently wandered along the wooden shelves fixed between the two window encasements in the sitting room. They contained an array of musty books, some pottery, a pretty spiked-leafed plant, candles, a silver framed family photograph of her mother cuddling Manuella…and, strangely, a bottle of Liquin.
Recalling this last item had made him catch his breath. Liquin was a substance used for improving the flow and transparency of oil paint. It was a medium used only by artists, usually professional artists.
He couldn’t help but think he had been duped. Once more.
***
He ate badly. He slept fitfully. Venice was for lovers, not middle-aged men on a mission of redemption. What was he thinking, being here? What was he trying to accomplish? Alone, he was deficient of energy and good thoughts. He now felt as low as he could possibly go. Ghosts of the past were one thing. Those who inhabited the future were entirely different. These were by their very nature unpredictable. And hostile.
Sleep was overtaking him. Engulfed by blackness, he remembered Antonia’s words, ‘I have been expecting you. ’
I have been expecting you. The words sent a shiver racing through his veins. Had he been duped on a far greater scale than he could ever have imagined? What did these words mean? Only one person knew of his every movement, the only person that he confided in, in all matters: his secretary, Kara.
What the hell was he to make of all this?
Chapter Eleven
He was so incensed with Adele that, on his return from Italy, Michael drove straight to their country house in Bedfordshire to confront her. He was sick and tired of the lies that manifested themselves straight from her mouth, and it needed sorting. She was destroying everything in her path: their marriage; their business; their very existence. These were matters central to his life. If John Fitzgerald was worth all that sacrifice, then she needed to hear it straight, how it really was. No holds barred. In Michael’s opinion, Adele could find a deep hole and crawl into it, never to return. Such was his contempt for her he didn’t announce his arrival with a courtesy call beforehand. Instead, he banged on the front door with a heavy fist.
Opening the door, Adele’s eyes widened, startled to find Michael standing there. He felt a rage contort his features, and she saw it.
‘Michael. What has happened? Why are you here? ’ She stood back, holding a protective hand to her chest.
‘Expecting John, were you? ’ Michael spat the words, pushing himself past her and into the hallway. His eyes darted in all directions, searching for tangible evidence of another man’s presence: a pair of shoes next to the sofa, a jacket thrown over the back of a chair. He knew she would be too clever for that. He shot the question anyway, ‘Perhaps he’s here already? ’
‘No he isn’t! Have you been drinking? ’ She sounded frightened.
‘Possibly. Have you been having botox? ’
‘If you are going to just insult me, I think you should go right away…now! ’
‘Adele, just shut up. Just bloody well shut up. What’s going on between you and that bastard, John? ’
‘This is not the time to discuss –’
‘This is still my damn house. ’
‘I’m well aware of it. ’
He turned on her, moving closer. ‘Tell me, dammit! What is going on between the two of you? ’
‘I don’t know, if you want the truth, Michael. What do you want me to say? ’
‘Are you in love with him? ’
Adele sniggered. ‘What is love? Of course I’m very fond of him, he pays me attention, he cares for me, he treats me like a woman. ’
‘Well, if it isn’t love, then what the fuck are you playing at, destroying both our lives and our future together? What about Toby? Have you thought about him? Are you going to tell him his precious mother is an unfaithful slut, or shall I? ’
Her eyes widened further. ‘Michael, he already knows! ’
‘Whaaaat? ’ Michael reeled back and clattered into the imposing oak sideboard, dislodging a row of porcelain plates displayed on the shelves.
Adele tried to calm him.
‘Christ, Michael, everybody knows. When did you last speak to Toby? You live your life down a blind alley. Because you’re so fucking busy, you never just look around to see what anyone else is doing. ’ Adele attempted to straighten the plates. ‘I am unhappy, Michael. Can’t you see that? ’
‘And he makes you happy? ’
‘Yes. Yes. Yes. More to the point, it was you who stopped me from being happy in our relationship. It’s not rocket science. He came along and filled the void, but I don’t expect you to grasp what I’m trying to tell you. Listen to my words. ’
‘It’s that straightforward, eh? ’
‘It’s never that simple. Just reality…it happens. ’
‘How has Toby taken it? ’
‘You really want to know, Michael? The truth, that is? He saw it coming years ago. Why do you think he moved to New York? It was to get as far away from the tension in our marriage. He wanted to make his own way in life, rather than be forced to work alongside us. ’
‘Jesus. ’
‘You have been running away from everyone and everything for years, Michael, including those closest to you. Toby hated what he saw in us. ’
He felt lost. ‘When did you stop loving me? ’
‘I have never stopped loving you. ’ Adele tried to reach out, but he took evasive action, turning his back on her, and thumped the wall with both fists.
‘Why are
you so angry with everyone? ’ she asked.
‘Because…’ But then words failed him.
‘Michael, I am not stupid. Over the past years of our marriage, I know there’ve been other women in your life. Not serious, but enough to threaten what we had. Now the tables are turned. ’
Momentarily lost for words, he was taken aback by Adele’s confidence. It took a few seconds to catch his breath, before he muttered, ‘What can you possibly see in him? ’
‘More than you think. He’s the man you used to be. In the end, a wife gets fed up playing second fiddle and I want to feel special once again. Emotionally, you can’t do that for me anymore. You’re no longer there, consumed instead with business matters, which never seem to go away. I guess I’m exhausted with it all. Michael, I know it’s hard. ’
He laughed aloud. ‘Hard? Are you aware of just how close we are to bankruptcy? ’
‘Of course, I do the bloody books, remember? It isn’t that bad. ’
He went on the attack, ignoring her last comment. ‘When you asked for a divorce, Adele, did it not occur to you that your very actions would be tantamount to pulling me apart limb from limb? ’
‘That’s an exaggeration. You get to keep the galleries, the apartment, the income…’
‘What income! By the time you take your half share of the profits, this house, the place in Marbella, what do you think the value of the company will be, after I’m remortgaged up to the hilt? The Shoreditch gallery is failing and business in the West End is crap. It’s too damned easy for you to take the fucking money and run, leaving me with the broken pieces to put back together again. You’ll bleed the business dry with your ridiculous demands. Whatever I’m left with will not be sustainable and I will not be able to survive. Happy with that? ’
‘You will always fall on your feet, Michael. ’
‘Is that so? ’ He paced the hallway. ‘Then I have a proposal for you, one that should appeal to your sense of justice and fair play. Listen carefully. You get to keep the fucking business and I will take the money. We are business partners, if you remember. Fifty-fifty it says on the tin. If you are so confident of the gallery succeeding, then you put your name to it, and I’ll lie in the sun. But you’ll soon come running. ’
All the Rage Page 16