‘Right?’
He nodded.
‘Okay. I’ll be back in a minute. Unless you want to come back into the restaurant and—’
He shook his head vigorously.
Heart thumping, she left the pantry, red-hot anger coursing through her veins. Capable, efficient, good-hearted Rocco had been reduced to a scared shell of a man. No wonder he was so desperate to hold on to his job and couldn’t tolerate Sarah as a perceived threat. His time spent at the restaurant provided a lifeline.
Mary headed past the bar and hatch. Alfonso was wiping down liquor bottles and muttered something about Lucia having come down with a nasty cold – Natale was still upstairs. Mary stared at the hatch but all she saw was Enzo, cleaning worktops, a signal that he would soon head off in his car. Perhaps Dante had gone to bed early. She gazed outside. Margherita. She’d forgotten all about her.
Mary walked out into the humid night air and stopped with surprise. Dante and Margherita were chatting quietly together, over limoncellos, like two old friends. She headed over.
‘Dante?’
‘Mary? Everything okay?’
It never ceased to surprise her how much Dante could pick up from a tone of voice.
‘This is … sorry, I don’t know your name,’ he said to Margherita.
So she hadn’t introduced herself.
‘I’m really sorry to interrupt,’ said Mary, ‘but I need you out the back immediately. In the pantry.’ Her face flushed.
‘Right away.’ He stood up and bowed in Margherita’s direction. ‘Please excuse me but do stay and finish your drink. On the house.’
‘Grazie mille,’ she said and looked at Mary. ‘Can I do anything to help?’
Mary shook her head. ‘No. Thank you. Dante should be able to sort it.’
Wondering briefly what they had been talking about, Mary headed back to the pantry, followed closely by Dante who knew the way without his stick. She led him to the back where Rocco was. Dante’s brow knitted when they stopped.
‘What is it? Have we been burgled? Do we have mice?’
Rocco let out a sob and Dante tilted his head. ‘Who’s there? On the ground?’ He knelt down and reached out an arm. He touched Rocco’s shoulder and the waiter flinched.
‘Dante … I …’ Rocco looked up at Mary. She understood. It was too much for him to explain. She tapped on Dante’s shoulder. He got back up and they moved a couple of metres away.
As she explained, Mary didn’t need to see how angry he was. His body language was clear in the dim light. How his body stiffened and those strong hands flexed. How his jaw tightened and he let out angry exclamations of disbelief.
‘You did the right thing, to get me,’ he said and paced up and down for a few minutes. Then he went back to Rocco. Dante reached down and opened his hands. Rocco put his in Dante’s and the pizza-maker pulled him up. His fingers curled gently around the waiter’s shoulders. ‘We can sort this. Together. Those are the last bruises you will ever get.’
Rocco’s body shook. ‘But how? If Angelo finds out that I’ve told you he’ll go crazy. I’ll have to move out but I haven’t got anywhere else to go.’
‘Not if he finds out but when. We are going to your flat right now to confront him. Just you and me,’ he said.
Rocco gasped. ‘No, Dante. You don’t know what he’s like.’
‘I’ll come, too,’ said Mary.
Dante shook his head. ‘No need. I’ve dealt with enough bullies in my time.’ Gently he squeezed Rocco’s shoulders. ‘Whilst I chat to Angelo you pack a bag. Get all your essentials. Until you get things sorted, you can stay at my new flat.’
‘But what about you? That’s your new home,’ he stuttered.
‘I have a room here and can delay moving out. The flat is yours for as long as you need it, Rocco. We won’t give Angelo the address. He won’t have keys. You’ll be safe and have the space to think things through.’
Dante leant forward and gave Rocco a quick hug. After a few seconds he stepped back. ‘You are one of the family, Rocco. We look after our own. You have always been loyal to us and so strong over the last two years. This is not charity or pity – I am simply paying you back. Now a Rossi is being strong for you.’
Rocco’s voice wavered. ‘You don’t think it weak that I couldn’t stand up to another man?’
Dante snorted. ‘No. I’ve come across enough bullies in the police force who verbally abuse younger officers, to know gender is irrelevant when it comes to this sort of thing.’ He shrugged. ‘You are one of the most robust people I know. We couldn’t have got through Mamma dying without you here, running the restaurant day in day out, not asking questions but being there with a coffee or pat on the arm. You are solid, Rocco. By the sounds of it Angelo is a sick man. Anyone else would have found your position as difficult if … if they were as much in love.’
Rocco straightened his glasses. Looked a little less hunched. He followed Dante out of the pantry. Mary called them a taxi and ten minutes later stood under the canopy as she watched the car drive away.
‘You okay?’ said a voice.
You still here? Mary nearly replied. What was Margherita doing? Why hadn’t she told Dante who she was?
Margherita drained her glass. ‘That man looked shaken up. Don’t tell me – Dante’s playing the hero?’
Mary pursed her lips. ‘Why are you here? Why didn’t you tell Dante your name?’
‘You had such a high opinion of him, I thought I’d find out for myself.’
‘And?’
‘I told him I was visiting and owned a restaurant of my own. We chatted business.’
‘So, you see for yourself – he’s just a human who did the best that he could.’
Margherita stood up. ‘I’m going now. Enjoy your last week on the Lombardi List. This run-down place doesn’t stand a chance. The canopy could do with replacing – it’s ingrained with ugly nicotine stains. Those steam jets don’t keep outside guests cool enough and the grind isn’t right on your coffee.’ She took out her phone. ‘Pizzeria Dolce Vita needs to move with the times, Maria, and it can’t do that in a week. I can see that the last two difficult years you talked of have taken their toll, indeed.’
With that she dialled a number and walked away giving a taxi firm her address. Mary gazed around the restaurant, looking for faults, but suddenly felt exhausted. Worry about Rocco and Dante filled her mind and for once, the Lombardi List didn’t seem so important.
What if Angelo did go crazy and hit out? Dante wouldn’t be able to see each move. Yet, deep down, she had confidence that he would cope. There had been a still determination sweep over him when he’d heard about what had been happening and Rocco grew in stature as he realised Dante still respected him and understood. Between the two of them, she had a feeling that everything would turn out okay.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Mary sat bolt upright in bed. She looked at her digital clock – half past three? She strained to listen … voices, coming from downstairs. And clinking – like crockery banging together. She yawned, got up and in her cotton pyjamas headed downstairs.
The first floor, where the rest of the family slept, was quiet and as she continued down the last mahogany staircase it was clear that coffee was being made. The Rossi family sat, in the dining room, in their nightwear, apart from Dante who still wore a T-shirt and jeans. Alfonso handed around lattes, complete with hearts on the top. They looked over to her and smiled.
‘Joining the party, Maria?’ said Alfonso.
Not likely, she thought, after what Dante had said the other day.
‘No, it’s okay. I don’t want to interrupt.’
Alfonso looked puzzled. ‘You live here, cara Maria, of course you are not interrupting. I will make your latte, with the cat face on top that you like so much.’
She glanced over towards Dante. ‘Please,’ he said and turned his head over to where she stood. ‘We need a bit of English calmness here, tonight.’
She noted
the bags under Natale’s eyes. ‘How is Lucia?’
Natale yawned. ‘Not good. My poor treasure has a sore throat as well and has only just gone to sleep. Oro is sleeping on her bed as a treat. It doesn’t happen very often.’
‘But if anything can make her feel better, that lovely dog will.’ Cautiously Mary sat down opposite Dante. ‘So … how did you get on?’ she asked in low tones.
‘It’s okay,’ he said. ‘Papà and my sister know – Rocco said I could tell them.’ He sipped his coffee. ‘Rocco is in my flat. Angelo wasn’t happy. I heard him bang his fist against the wall.’
‘Weren’t you scared?’ asked Natale, from the next table where she sat with her father. ‘That he’d have an advantage over you, if things turned nasty?’
‘Bah!’ said Alfonso and he collapsed into a chair. ‘My words exactly. You could have been badly injured, my boy – what were you thinking? Although I am glad it turned out okay. That man …’ His top lip curled. ‘If I was younger, he’d regret harming one of my employees and someone who is more like a son to me.’
Natale placed a hand on his arm. ‘Calm down, Papà, your blood pressure …’
‘Angelo is no match for Dante,’ said Mary, with a sneer. ‘A man like that is a coward.’
‘But he is a big man,’ said Natale. ‘Things could have ended badly.’
‘And Dante has a bigger heart and bigger brain. All Angelo has is his fists and a chip on his shoulder,’ replied Mary.
The Rossi family all pulled puzzled faces.
‘It means … resentments. Jealousies. Anger. Those things can’t compete with Dante’s courage and sense of fairness.’
‘Please, Mary.’ Dante’s face flushed. ‘Don’t make me out to be some kind of hero. All I did was talk sense to him and hold my ground when he threatened me. You are right, though. He is frightened he’ll end up in jail. And so he should be.’
‘Is Rocco going to press charges?’ said Mary, regretting that she’d sounded like Dante’s number one fan.
‘I hope so. One step at a time. He is settled in the flat. We stopped off for bread and milk at the twenty-four hour supermarket. I have left the idea with him, of going to the police station tomorrow and getting photos of those bruises.’
‘How was he, when you left?’ said Alfonso. ‘I hope you told him not to come in to work tomorrow.’
‘I did but needn’t have bothered. Rocco wants to keep his mind occupied. And you know how loyal he is. Sunday is a busy day.’ Dante stretched out and yawned. ‘We just need to all be vigilant in case Angelo turns up here.’
‘It’s all so terrible for Rocco,’ said Alfonso, shaking his head.
‘Terrible indeed. The hardest part? Tonight the relationship broke up. Despite everything, Rocco still loves him. Five years is a long time. It is like a bereavement for him. He knows he can never go back.’
Alfonso and Natale looked at each other. Dante’s eyes glistened.
His sister turned to Mary. ‘It is exactly one year ago tomorrow …’ She glanced at the clock above the bar. ‘I mean today, that Mamma died. That’s another reason we can’t sleep.’
That was the most upfront any member of this family had been about her. ‘I’m so sorry,’ said Mary. ‘You must all miss her so much.’
The three of them said nothing, which Mary found odd. In fact Dante got up suddenly to fetch another latte and Alfonso switched on music.
‘Did you enjoy talking to that woman out front tonight, Dante?’ she said, changing the subject. ‘Did you know that—’
He turned around from the coffee machine. ‘Si.’
‘What was I going to say?’ she exclaimed.
‘It was Margherita – of Margherita Margherita!’
‘But she never told you! I chatted to her afterwards.’
‘I recognised her strong Milan accent from the time I visited her place – when she was rude to me. We just talked about the restaurant business. I didn’t let on that I knew her identity – let her play her little game. Also, she wears an unusual scent – a popular men’s aftershave.’
‘Perhaps it is her boyfriend’s,’ said Natale.
Alfonso groaned. ‘What is it with young women, borrowing things from men? Remember that biker boyfriend you had, Natale, when you were sixteen? Never a weekend passed when you weren’t wearing his scruffy black leather jacket.’
Briefly her eyes lit up. ‘And then there was the tattoo artist I dated.’
Her father rolled his eyes. ‘At least you never acquired a permanent reminder of him. You were so obsessed with the relationship and a little wild and carefree. Mamma and I were convinced you’d let him do his artwork on you.’
Her cheeks flushed dark red. Dante grinned. ‘Sister, why the silence? If ever you don’t reply to an insult then I know you have something to hide.’
‘Natale?’ said Alfonso, his bushy eyebrows slowly moving up his forehead.
With a nervous laugh she stood up. ‘It’s only small – and I’m not going to apologise, Papà – I am an adult now!’ She lifted the back of her pyjama top to reveal a small dove at the base of her spine.
‘Dio Mio,’ said Alfonso and his voice wavered. ‘Your mamma loved birds. She would have secretly approved.’ He looked at the wall to the left, near the bar, where three porcelain ducks were attached. ‘She chose those years ago.’
He glanced back at his children. ‘You know what? Let’s close the restaurant tomorrow. We visit your mamma’s grave. It is important that we honour her. One year … it seems like ten.’
A tear trickled down Natale’s face. Mary slipped her hand into hers.
‘But what about the Lombardi List?’ said Natale and she wiped her eyes. ‘Sunday is one of our busiest days. We can’t afford to take that day off. And the judge might visit and see we are closed to tourists, to everyone at this busy time of year – put a black mark against us.’
Dante shrugged. ‘I agree with Papà. Some things are more important and what difference can anything we do now really make?’
‘Margherita reckons it’s too late as well,’ said Mary.
‘How do you know?’ asked Natale.
Mary blushed. ‘Yes. I went to see her the other night. I get the impression she is hell-bent on knocking us off that list. I wanted to know why and tried to make her see us as humans, not just competitors.’
‘You did that for us?’
Mary nodded. Thought back to her resolutions on the aeroplane. Without realising it, she’d fulfilled at least two. She’d stood up to Rocco, and here she was, taking the initiative when it came to her job. Plus she’d got healthier by dancing, although she didn’t really feel like having Dante as a ballroom partner now.
‘And what exactly did she say?’ said Alfonso.
‘Nothing much …’ Her face burned. She couldn’t tell them the whole truth – about how she supported the armed services and thought that Dante had disgraced his uniform. ‘She is just incredibly focused on making her business a success. She soon picked out a few things that could be improved here.’
He folded his arms, so Mary told him the detail of how she thought the Rossi family had let the business slip. Eventually he nodded.
‘She is right. I have not quite maintained the Rossi high standards.’ His chunky shoulders bobbed up and down. ‘But we have done our best under the circumstances. If we lose our place on that list, we will just have to work harder over the next year to get reinstated.’
Everyone nodded and contemplated the future for a moment.
‘Where is your wife buried?’ Mary asked and finished the comforting latte.
‘In a little medieval village about one hour’s drive from here, set on a hill. We could drive but there is a train that gets there in forty minutes. It is where she grew up. Very tranquil. She rests in a beautiful churchyard, next to an olive grove.’
‘We could take a picnic for lunch,’ said Natale. ‘There is that little park nearby, opposite the graveyard. Lucia would love that – if she is feeli
ng a bit better. I am hoping this is some kind of twenty-four hour virus.’
‘Perhaps the fresh air will do her good. Mamma couldn’t have asked for a better resting place,’ said Dante softly. ‘I could listen to the crickets and nightingales all day long.’
A scraping noise, at the front of the restaurant, diverted their attention from the next day’s plans. Alfonso went over to lift the shutter. Through the window, scratching at the glass, they spotted …
‘Fortuna!’ Mary said and hurried over.
‘Who?’ said Alfonso and he fiddled with the end of his moustache – something Mary now recognised as his default activity when he was stressed or thinking hard.
‘The dog Rocco feeds every morning and night.’
Alfonso opened the glass door and Mary went outside. She knelt down and felt Fortuna’s stomach. Natale came out a few minutes later with some chicken scraps and the dog wolfed them down.
‘She’s pregnant. She must come inside for the night,’ said a voice at the doorway. Mary stood up and looked at Dante. Alfonso nodded. So she waited with the terrier, whilst Natale fetched a blanket and dish of water and set them up in the corner of the restaurant. Then Mary carried the dog inside and set her down. Fortuna seemed to understand that these people meant no harm.
Alfonso bent down and ruffled her dirty brown fur. The dog licked his hand. ‘She can stay for one night but there are health and safety issues … what if she clambers onto the tables during the night?’
‘And what about Oro?’ asked Mary.
Dante carried his empty coffee cup over to the bar. ‘I will sleep down here. Then tomorrow, early … I have an idea.’
‘Fortuna can stay with Rocco, in your flat?’
‘Exactly. He will have tomorrow off, with the restaurant closed – which works out well. It will give him time to settle in a bit and take stock. I have a spare dog lead and food, to get him started. If I leave early I can be back for when we catch the train out to the countryside. And by leaving early Oro won’t know Fortuna has been here, by the time she comes downstairs with Lucia.’
‘But how will the Fortuna manage when Rocco is at work?’
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