La Belle Suisse

by Jack Dey & Dodie La Mirounette

  *~*~*~*

  Niccolo walked slowly along the Quai de la Rouvenaz carrying Vincenza’s suitcase in one hand while Vincenza ambled beside her son with her arm affectionately wrapped around the other. Neither spoke and the growing silence seemed like a insurmountable gaping rift between the pair. He could feel the depth of Vincenza’s gaze as her eyes wandered the carnival atmosphere. Something was deeply troubling her and her pained expression left Niccolo feeling disturbed. He searched the festival scene, hoping for an opportunity to engage her, however the quay area was exceptionally busy with people running into Vincenza’s suitcase and launching it like a missile against Niccolo’s legs, distracting his efforts.

  A food stall entered his view, offering him a reason to fill the silent void and an opportunity to enter his mother’s pondering world. Niccolo broke the awkward quiet, drawing Vincenza’s hollow eyes from the crowded scenery to her son’s obvious apprehension. “Are you hungry? We can get some food and then sit on the ponton suspendu and watch the lake and the mountains as we eat,” Niccolo proposed tentatively.

  Vincenza turned to face her son and offered him a pensive smile, her big brown eyes reflecting the trouble in her heart and it almost seemed that she was confiding with an unseen authority figure and begging for guidance. “Thank you, Niccolo, I’d like that.”

  Pressed against a food stall, Niccolo waited in a sea of people jostling to be served. Finally his voice drew the attention of the owner and soon he walked away with two steaming hot meals. Finding a seat on the suspended platform overlooking the Montreux Riviera and the Place du Marché, Niccolo and Vincenza sat together with their bodies turned towards each other and their knees touching. Vincenza fidgeted nervously with the takeaway meal wrapped in plain paper, but before she opened her food she glanced sideways at her son as if she was about to speak, and when Niccolo realised she was watching him, he smiled. The simple act brought a pang of shame and made her turn away, anxiously rethinking her approach.

  After many silent moments and false starts, Vincenza decided the best way was just to say what was on her heart and let God deal with the consequences. “I... I was forced to give you up, Niccolo. I wasn’t even fifteen when you were born and when they took you away from me... I died inside!” Vincenza tapered off, her shoulders shuddering while a big tear plopped onto her lap.

  Niccolo’s comforting hand rested on top of hers, giving her the courage to regain her composure and attempt to carry on.

  “I... I fell in love with a man who was a lot older than me and when he found out I was pregnant with his child, he disappeared, leaving me to explain to my parents. Padre was furious and went in search of the man, looking to exact revenge but he’d vanished. However, my father’s anger did not, and you and I wore the full force of his ire. I didn’t get to see you after you were born and I had no idea of your name until recently, but I’ve prayed for you ever since and have asked God to take care of you. I begged Him to reunite us and as the desperate few years stretched into many, I gave up all hope of ever finding you again... until you rang me two nights ago.”

  Vincenza quietly wept, leaving Niccolo fighting back the tears at her confession and staring blankly at his suffering mother. She had carried the burden too, only from a different perspective.

  Gradually, Vincenza’s raging emotional storm subsided and as a lull in the gusts allowed her to regain her composure, she tentatively continued her story. “I have never married. My heart has always been with you, wrenched from my chest the day you were taken from me twenty-two years ago,” Vincenza studied Niccolo’s gaze, trying to read his mind and gauge his reaction. She’d taken a big risk telling him her story and possibly giving him a reason to reject her, too.

  Uneasy with his silence and unable to read his thoughts, Vincenza choked on the emotion constricting her throat, silently pleading for understanding and not sure how Niccolo was processing her tale. “Can you ever forgive me, Niccolo? I guess you’ve been pretty angry with me for letting you go and wondered where I was. I just wanted to tell you, I’ve tried frantically every day of my life to find you, but as time went on it became almost impossible and the hole you left in my heart has never healed.”

  Niccolo’s eyes dropped to the ground, feeling the bitter years haunting his memory and wanting someone to pay for his wasted childhood; and yet coming to a decision, he returned his gaze to the trembling woman, holding her uncertain watery expression. Searching her pleading brown eyes for treachery, he saw only kindness and pain reflected in her soft expression. It was then Niccolo understood... she had been a victim, too.

  Unexpectedly, Niccolo set aside his meal on to the seat and stood, while Vincenza fearfully watched her son’s actions. He knelt beside her and reached out his arms, enfolding his mother in a forgiving hug. “I love you, Madre, and yes, I forgive you.”

  Niccolo’s and Vincenza’s food went cold as mother and son held each other, nourishing their love instead.

  Niccolo suddenly broke from his mother’s arms and checked his watch. It was nearly 4 pm and he had to get back to the island and prepare for the evening’s concerts. “Come, let us go. Natalya will be waiting soon to take us to our accommodation and then I can introduce my madre to the other band members.”

  Vincenza chatted cheerfully with Niccolo as they navigated through the crowded quays, asking him a barrage of questions about his life and filling in the missing years for him. At one stage, she intently studied the long blond hair tied in a ponytail and grinned, panicking him with her observation. “I can’t wait to see what you really look like without that... disguise.”

  Niccolo’s expression sharply turned toward Vincenza and then back to the crowd, anxiously searching for signs he had been discovered by rampaging fans. When there appeared to be no obvious interest, he cautiously smiled. “How did you know it’s a disguise?”

  Vincenza laughed and patted his arm. “Don’t get me wrong, Niccolo, it’s good, but a mother knows when something isn’t right. Besides, blond Italians draw natural curiosity,” she teased.

  As the couple entered the Quai de Clarens, Niccolo could see Natalya’s heavy outline gripping the pier, balancing awkwardly in the boat and patiently waiting for his return.

  “So... how did you find me, Niccolo?” Vincenza curiously asked, obviously puzzled how he could achieve something she could not.

  The question took Niccolo off guard. He’d wondered the same thing, but now that he’d heard the words actually verbalised, it started him thinking. “The people we’re staying with gave me a photograph of you and your contact number. I’m not sure where they got it from.”

  Vincenza went quiet, reflecting on his statement but finally cuddled closer to her son. It didn’t matter how they’d found her, only that they had, and she took that to mean God had finally granted her heart-wrenching prayer.

  Niccolo reached into his pocket and removed the black and white photograph and offered it to Vincenza to peruse. “This is what they gave me and your number is on the back.”

  Vincenza took the picture Niccolo offered and studied the photograph with great interest. It was her image alright, although she hadn’t seen this particular snap for a long time. Flipping it over, she recognised her number immediately... yet something was bothering her, but she couldn’t put her finger on the troubling puzzle.

  *~*~*~*

  Chapter 61

  Feeling hollow and empty, Marie-Laure had just hung up the phone from Jonas and settled back at the kitchen table, pleading with Papa God for the safe return of her son when the family phone repeated its jangling tease. With her heart racing in hopeful anticipation, Marie-Laure’s instincts murmured a warning and she chided herself for building up her hopes, only to have them cruelly deflated when the caller had no connection with her missing child. Disregarding the hopeless thought and suddenly full of optimism, she scurried from the kitchen in a full-on sprint and crashed into the passageway, swooping like a bird of prey down onto the chiming machine.

&
nbsp; Surging with adrenaline and almost out of breath, the words formed in her tortured mind and left her throat before she had time to properly think through her response. “Have you found him?!”

  Then before the unsuspecting caller could reply, pessimism reared its ugly head, the tears overflowed and the tension burst, leaving the person on the other end stunned and stammering to understand.

  “Arr... M... Madame Tauxe?!”

  Marie-Laure couldn’t recognise the caller’s voice and desperately tried to dam the gushing emotional outflow, shuddering and gasping until finally the words formed into a pretence of recognisable and understandable dialogue. “Pardonnez-moi. Oui, this is Madame Tauxe,” Marie-Laure babbled, wiping away the flood running down her nose, trying to clear her mind and comprehend the caller’s needs.

  “Madame Tauxe, this is Agent Picard, Vaud Gendarmerie...”

  There was a long pause as Marie-Laure’s mind collapsed into a trembling world of fear, wondering what the gendarme was about to tell her.

  “Allô, is anybody there!”

  “Excusez-moi, Agent Picard. I am here.”

  “We have traced a Ryan Tauxe...” Marie-Laure gasped and the action answered the gendarme’s question, but he continued anyway. “From his records it would appear he lives at your address. Is this correct, Madame?”

  Trembling with abject fear and expecting the worst, she braced herself. “Yes, he’s my son. What’s happened, Agent Picard?!”

  The stress in her voice alerted the young gendarme to a gathering storm and he quickly moved to stifle the looming hurricane. “Please be assured, Madame Tauxe, your son is okay but he has been injured, albeit not severely. It is reported Ryan was attacked and robbed by unknown persons at the front of the Auditorium Stravinski last night, but a Good Samaritan came to his aid and a doctor and nurse are now caring for your youth at the expense of the Samaritan and at their own home.”

  Marie-Laure sighed heavily and relieved tears flooded the earpiece, stifling all conversation until the young gendarme could calm the distraught mother.

  Moving quickly, the gendarme continued, hoping to instil a sense of peace and confidence in the troubled woman. “We have a statement from the Samaritan and a description from eyewitnesses. We will apprehend those responsible, Madame Tauxe.”

  “Can I see my son?” Marie-Laure whispered, her mind jumbled and unconcerned with the gendarme’s speech.

  “Yes, Madame, the people have left a contact number and an address welcoming you to visit Ryan at your leisure and they added as soon as Ryan has healed enough, they will deliver him safe home to you.”

  *~*~*~*

  With his injured shoulder pulsing in time with his heartbeat, Ryan’s eyes fluttered open, taking many moments to clear his blurred vision and fuzzy mind. Confusion pursued him around the darkened room, trying to identify the gloomy shadows, but nothing seemed familiar in this peculiar new world. From somewhere within the strange house, Ryan could hear the unmistakable sounds of the Sticky Lizards band going through a warm up and then a new number so sweet and melodic echoed throughout the halls. The rhythmic beat tantalised his tired mind with musical honey and brought a delighted smile to his bruised lips, but no matter how hard he concentrated, he was unable to recognise the melody they were playing.

  Just then, Ryan heard the door unlatch and as the access drew open, light flooded his room, causing a wide eyed stare at a massive figure entering the scene and carrying a tray of food.

  “Ah! Good morning, darlink. Doctor did good job, dah! I am nurse Natalya and I bring good breakfast for sick boy... nice rye bread and Bavarian sausage! Maestro sorry he not here when you wake up, but he go somewhere today with kaftan man, Robere.” Natalya broke into her usual gappy-toothed grin, trying to put Ryan at ease, however the sight only troubled him more, having no idea who kaftan man Robere was.

  “W... where am I, Natalya, and is that a new recording I can hear of the Sticky Lizards?” Ryan sounded slightly awed but croaky as he spoke.

  “We in Maestro island home and have house guests at moment, but noise you hear is nyet recording, only Maestro’s Stuck Lizards... sound more like barking dog to me!” Natalya complained clandestinely under her breath.

  “The Sticky Lizards are here?!” Ryan exploded.

  “Dah! But I can’t get rid of them for you. This is their new home, too,” Natalya seemed a little annoyed, however a sudden thought crossed her mind. She wasn’t supposed to tell anyone that piece of information.

  Realising he was in the same house as the Sticky Lizards, Ryan’s infatuated expression beamed like the sun. Then as his eyes completed a casual sweep of the strange surrounds, his gaze rested on a brand new Stratocaster leaning on the wall near his bed. He ogled the instrument with lusting eyes, following its chic polished lines flaunting its shapely figure and begging to be handled. If it sounded half as good as it looked, it would be a prized showpiece hanging from his arm, making him look good too by just being in his company. Ryan made a hasty move to raise himself from the bed and attempt to grasp the instrument, but his shoulder responded with an angry and sharp disapproving reaction, forcing him to violently slump back to the mattress in frustrated pain.

  “What you doing, little bird, you nyet allowed out of bed!” Natalya scolded and then followed Ryan’s hypnotised gaze, settling on his point of focus. “Arr, I see, little bird, you discover Maestro gift.”

  The massive figure squeezed past Ryan’s bed and then the instrument disappeared in her huge grip, swallowed by a decisive swipe and after a reversal of Natalya’s acrobatics, the Stratocaster rested in Ryan’s impressed hands. It was even more luxurious than the one that had been stolen from him, superbly balanced and just the right length for Ryan’s grip, feeling like velvet in his hands. Ryan plucked at the exuberant strings with a strumming thumb and even unaided by the instrument’s amp the machine hummed, begging for talented hands to massage its frame and make tender music.

  “Your matushka very worried!”

  Natalya’s simple words made Ryan unexpectedly glance up from the expensive instrument. He hadn’t understood her meaning, but her doleful expression conveyed what he suspected. Ryan pictured his devoted mother in his mind and felt the urge to reassure her. She’d be beside herself with worry and didn’t deserve the torment she was surely suffering on his behalf. “Does she know I’m okay?” Ryan whispered and dropped his head in shame.

  “Dah! She rings just one hour past, but you asleep. She comes soon. I go take boat and bring her onto island.”

  *~*~*~*

  Marie-Laure had tried repeatedly to contact Jonas and deliver the good news, but for some reason his phone was turned off and she suspected it had run out of battery power. The rumbling bus trip from Chailly to Gambetta seemed to take forever as Marie-Laure whispered an excited and grateful prayer of thanksgiving. Staring through the moving bus window, she began to wonder about the people who had taken in her injured son and not only paid to have a doctor take care of him, but accommodated him in their own home when Ryan’s family address wasn’t known and he was incapacitated and unable to tell them.

  Finally the lumbering Gambetta bus docked at the bus shelter with Marie-Laure impatiently alighting. The driver impassively waited for his passengers to disembark and readied the vehicle to retrace the route and repeat the journey to Chailly. As directed, Marie-Laure hastily strode towards Lac Léman from the Gambetta-Clarens bus stop until she intercepted the Quai de Clarens, then following it north she located the dock just before the Quai de Clarens became the Quai de Villas du Bochet. The directions to the island house seemed somehow surreal and unexpected, although the short trip in an open boat had been explained in her phone call but the detail had been lost in the excitement.

  As arranged, a massive woman waited at the pier in a small dinghy alongside the Quai de Clarens. Overcome with appreciation and awe at the woman’s selfless generosity, Marie-Laure embraced Natalya’s massive frame and couldn’t thank her enough for takin
g care of Ryan, even though Natalya tried to convey she was only doing her job and the Maestro was the true benevolent source.

  *~*~*~*

  Chapter 62

  A small open boat, not much bigger than a large bathtub, cut through the glassy waters of Lac Léman, rippling its mirror-like watery flesh into disturbed wrinkles and blemishing its near perfect complexion. Chilled by the early morning air, the outboard motor, just above idle, complained and smoked incessantly in the undisturbed atmosphere. As they motored towards the Quai de Clarens dock, the choking fumes hung over the boat like fog, wafting around Natalya’s huge frame and snaking towards Maestro’s sensitive sinuses. With nowhere to escape the rolling exhaust cloud, Maestro’s stinging eyes watered furiously, making the journey extremely unpleasant and adding another dimension to Maestro’s displeased expression.

  Holding a handkerchief to his face and taking a guarded sideways glance toward his kaftan-attired companion, Maestro couldn’t understand Robere’s insistence on a flaky sightseeing trip when there was still so much to do and so many loose ends requiring his attention, some absolutely dire to the success of the coming great rally. Niccolo’s dilemma remained unresolved and his mother would be staying at the island mansion when he and Robere returned, complicating the situation even further. The band members would be practising in the improvised music sound room on the ground floor, raising more questions; while Ryan remained unconscious in another room with Natalya as his nurse. Natalya was another unknown and he wasn’t sure she could be trusted to handle the workload he’d hired her for and smooth over any unsavoury situations that would inevitably arise.

  However, one thing that did bring a smile to Maestro’s grim features: the band had taken to sfidare le tradiziones with zealous enthusiasm, playing it exactly as he’d intended, convinced it would be an even greater hit than Sfidare Dissenso.