Tell Me No Truths

by Gill Vickery

  ‘We can TWOC,’ Amber suggested.

  Jade could see Nico wasn’t sure if Amber was joking or not. She put him out of his misery. ‘She’s having a laugh. We don’t really rob stuff.’

  ‘Not often,’ Amber added.

  ‘Ignore her,’ Jade said. ‘Where’s this garden?’

  ‘There.’ Nico pointed at a massive door set into a wall.

  ‘That’s one weird door.’ Jade squinted at a carving of a monkey squeezing from under a huge shell crowning the lintel. She pushed at the door. ‘It’s closed – how do we get in?’

  Nico consulted his leaflet. ‘I don’t think we can, it’s a court house now.’

  Jade noticed a scruffy sign by the door. ‘You’re right. It tells you here. That’s all it is now – a rubbish sign and a closed door with a squashed monkey.’ Her feet were hurting with all the walking they’d done and she wasn’t bothered when Nico took a step backwards from her sarcasm.

  ‘Try and imagine it like it was when Lorenzo de’ Medici was alive and all the boys were learning to be artists and sculptors in his garden academy . . .’

  ‘We know all that,’ Jade said.

  ‘You do?’ She watched Nico’s black eyebrows arch in surprise.

  Amber joined in. ‘We read those pamphlets you got us yesterday. We can read you know – we’re not totally stupid.’

  ‘I never thought you were.’

  Jade saw a standoff forming between Amber and Nico and felt a bit guilty. ‘We read up on Michelangelo just in case Mum and Dad started to ask us questions, didn’t we, Amb?’

  Amber shrugged.

  ‘We felt sorry for Michelangelo when his dad beat him for wanting to be an artist instead of a lawyer,’ Jade babbled on.

  ‘Like my Mum,’ Nico said.

  ‘Hattie beats you!’

  ‘No, of course not! I meant she’s always nagging me about what she calls a “real” job. She doesn’t think art can earn me a decent living – as if that’s the point.’

  ‘You’ve got to eat,’ Jade said.

  Nico snorted. ‘True.’

  ‘Ignore your mum,’ Jade said. ‘Michelangelo took no notice of his dad.’

  ‘I do,’ Nico muttered.

  Jade could see he didn’t like talking about Hattie and wasn’t surprised when he switched topics. ‘Did you read about how the boy Michelangelo made a copy of an old marble faun . . .’

  ‘Lorenzo de Medici saw it,’ Jade said. ‘He told Michelangelo it had too many teeth for an old man.’

  ‘So Michelangelo knocked them out,’ Amber added.

  ‘Only some of them,’ Jade objected. She hopped from foot to foot. ‘My feet are killing me with all this walking – let’s go back to the flat.’

  ‘Good idea,’ Nico said. Jade noticed Nico limping and remembered the Segway. She felt guilty again, though not much.

  Nico began his new journal. He wrote, In Search of E. J. Holm on the title page and inside an account of his exploration of Oltr’Arno. He added some drawings then opened his copy of The Shattered Mirror at the page where Alessandro found his lover’s body among the broken glass of the Bottega degli Specchi. He copied a passage into his journal:

  Semiramide’s twisted body lay among glistening shards covering the workshop floor. As Alessandro forced himself to walk towards her, the glass under his shoes splintered like fragile bones. He looked down at the corpse. The light glittering from fragments of glass encircling Semiramide’s serene and lovely face made a perfect halo. But the eyes that looked up at him were not the eyes of an angel, they were the eyes of death: opaque, dark, empty. And the mouth that had smiled often and generously at him was distorted by something thrust between the lips.

  Alessandro stooped and gently pulled it out. It was a rose – a scarlet rose.

  Even though the late sun lingered over the balcony, Jade shivered. ‘I still can’t get over the way Signora Biagi looked so like Mum. What d’you think she’ll say when we go back?’

  ‘How should I know?’

  ‘You do still want to go back don’t you?’

  ‘Of course I do. She’s got to tell us what they think Nonno did and we’ve got to put her right.’

  ‘Maybe she doesn’t know. Maybe she doesn’t even know Nonno was supposed to have done something. Maybe she’s never even heard of Nonno.’

  ‘We’ll find out on Wednesday, won’t we?’

  ‘But . . .’

  ‘Stop going on about it.’ Amber glared at Jade. ‘You know how Nonno felt. You know how much he wanted to come back here and they threatened to kill him if he did. How can you excuse that?’

  ‘I’m not – and I don’t think they really meant “kill”. Everybody says that – Nico said he was going to kill Hattie if she didn’t stop pressuring him but he didn’t mean it, did he? It’s just an expression.’

  With a pitying look Amber pushed past Jade and went inside.

  There was no point in talking when she was in a mood. Jade stayed where she was and looked down into the darkening garden. Why did things have to be so complicated? Jade had imagined that she and Amber would just tell the Italian family what Nonno was really like and convince them he was a good man. But what if they were wrong? What if Nonno had done something terrible after all?

  CHAPTER VIII

  IT HAD BEEN a weird afternoon, Nico thought. James and Kevin had parked the hire cars in Borgo Sant’Angelo and the two families split up. Even the muppet James had enough common sense to leave the Thompsons alone. Luisa had looked very pale when she set off but was her usual self by the time they all met up again at the cafe bar in town and sat in the sunshine with their drinks. Even so, she was quieter than usual and seemed to find it a relief to listen to Mum cheerfully rabbiting on about all the similarities she’d discovered between Borgo Sant’Angelo and E. J. Holm’s Montebosco. Kevin and James simply picked up their on-going conversation about Xtreme Measures. What everyone was careful not to do was ask Luisa what it was like to visit her dead father’s childhood home.

  Nico noticed that the adults skirted round the topic by discussing what they were going to do the next day. In the end they agreed to go to the walled town of Lucca. It was Mum’s idea: she wanted to locate another of Alessandro’s crime scenes and Luisa agreed. They were getting on well. So were James and Kevin; they didn’t seem to mind what anybody did as long as they could talk music.

  Nico and the twins sat to one side where they had a good view of the busy piazza. Nico concentrated on drawing leaving Jade and Amber to talk softly about deceiving their parents. Nico thought Jade had a point when she said, ‘Amb, you tell a lie and it leads on to another and another. How many more are we going to tell before all this is over?’

  ‘As many as it takes.’

  ‘Doesn’t it bother you?’

  ‘No. What does it matter if we tell a few lies that don’t hurt anybody if it means we find out why Nonno’s family told a massive lie that really hurt him?’

  Amber turned to Nico, the topic of lying clearly over. ‘Is your mum going to take those books everywhere?’

  Mum, pink with excitement, was flourishing The Shattered Mirror at Luisa.

  ‘Probably,’ Nico said.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘She wants to find the places in the books and compare them with E. J. Holm’s descriptions. The church here was the scene of a wedding and then a murder. She wanted to see it close up – the church I mean, not the murder, obviously.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘To bring the books more alive when she reads them again.’

  ‘She reads them twice!’

  ‘She must’ve read The Shattered Mirror maybe three or four times.’

  ‘Why?’ Amber persisted.

  ‘Don’t you listen to music over and over, or watch your favourite films twice?’

  ‘That’s
different.’

  ‘Why?’ Nico said with a grin.

  Amber frowned. ‘Mad.’ She plugged her ear buds in and turned her back on Nico and Jade.

  ‘Is she all right?’ Nico asked.

  Jade nodded. ‘Those books of your mum’s, you read them as well, don’t you?’

  ‘It drives James crazy when we talk about them.’

  ‘You read them to annoy James?’

  ‘No, that’s a bonus. I read them because they’re brilliant.’

  ‘Brilliant? How?’

  ‘You really want to know? I don’t want be boring like my mother.’

  ‘She’s not boring to my mum – she likes her. Go on, what’s great about these E. J. Holm books?’

  Nico thought about it. What would grab Jade’s interest most? There were the loving, vivid descriptions of Italy, the fascinating characters. No, that wouldn’t impress her. ‘You know some books are a real slog and though you’re glad you’ve read them and you won’t forget them, you know you’ll never read them again?’

  ‘Yes – like the ones you have to read in English.’

  ‘OK, then there’s the ones you know are basically rubbish but you get caught up in the plot and can’t put them down?’

  Jade nodded.

  ‘E. J. Holm’s books are the best of both. They’ve got complicated plots that move fast and pull you along and . . . there’s more to them than that.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘There’s the characters for a start – you end up believing they’re real people.’ Nico decided not to elaborate; he knew he’d rabbit on for too long. ‘And there’s the story arc.’

  ‘The what?’

  ‘You know when there’s a series – it could be books or TV – you get a story in each book or episode?’

  Jade nodded.

  ‘Every book – or episode – also gives you a little bit of a longer story that stretches over the whole series.’

  ‘And at the end the big story is all tied up.’

  ‘That’s it – that’s the series story arc.’

  ‘What’s the E. J. Holm one?’

  Nico rummaged in a pocket for his notebook. He flipped it open at columns and rows of notes. At the head of each column was an ink drawing of a flower. ‘The series story arc is something to do with the Second World War – and with flowers.’

  Jade pointed at the columns. ‘What do those dates and things mean?’

  ‘It’s the order the books came out in. See? First, it’s The Leopard’s Kill and then The Coloratura Assassin and so on. Underneath the titles I’ve put the victims’ names and then their ages. They were all old except the last three; there’s the detective’s friend Bruno and Bruno’s daughter, Tania – she was only seven.’

  ‘That’s two people. Who was the third?’

  ‘Semiramide, the detective’s girlfriend.’ Nico turned the page over. ‘I think the main story arc is about revenge for some act of treachery by one of the partisans – they were the freedom fighters who fought against the Germans when they occupied Italy.’

  ‘I know about partisans, my nonno was one.’

  ‘Really? Then he was a hero! You don’t happen to know his code name?’

  ‘Code name?’

  ‘It wasn’t safe to use real names; if they got captured they could be tortured.’

  ‘That’s horrible.’

  Nico nodded. ‘In the books, each of the victims’ bodies is left with a flower – or a painting of a flower – on it. I think it’s to do with a partisan group who used flowers as code names and I think all the flowers come from a painting called Primavera. It’s in the Uffizi, I saw it on Sunday.’

  ‘Can I read one of your books? I want to know more about partisans.’

  ‘Course – but don’t forget, these are fiction though the history’s accurate.’ That was true; Nico had checked. ‘I’ll lend you The Shattered Mirror, a lot of it’s set here, in Borgo Sant’Angelo.’

  Amber turned and pulled out her ear buds. ‘I’m bored – let’s go for a walk.’

  Nico wanted to stay and talk to Jade. But it was too late, she was on her feet. Nico stood too.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Mum asked.

  ‘For a walk round town,’ Nico said. ‘Don’t make a fuss, Mother.’

  ‘Be back in half an hour. Dinner’s at eight.’

  Why could she never take a hint? ‘I know.’ Nico strode after the girls who’d already started off without having to put up with a warning from Kevin or Luisa.

  Dusk was dimming the sky and warm light slipped from cafes and bars, old people gossiped over their drinks and younger ones sauntered along the streets or gathered in small groups to watch each other parade slowly by. Nico and the twins came in for some open staring, and comments and gestures which Nico didn’t understand. ‘What are they saying?’ he asked Jade.

  She told him.

  ‘Charming. D’you know a lot of swearing?’

  ‘Loads – Nonno didn’t like it; it was some of the old people at his Italian Club who taught us. D’you want to know more?’

  By the time they got back to the bar Nico had learned a lot of colourful language and a large collection of expressive gestures. Lessons with Mr Mowatt had never been this interesting.

  ‘Time to get going,’ Mum said.

  Il Nido was on the edge of town, tucked away in a shadowed side street. Inside it was surprisingly sophisticated for a restaurant in such a small town. There were several parties and couples already seated with a particularly noisy and cheerful group near the door.

  ‘Hope we’re not going to end up next to them,’ James complained, staring disapprovingly at the unruly collection of elderly men and women including a priest helping himself to wine.

  Trust the muppet James to make us look stupid, Nico thought as a waiter escorted them to Signora Minardi who was sitting on the far side of the room. The priest raised his glass in an insolent salute to James’s back. Nico winced in embarrassment and the priest winked at him. Nico pretended he hadn’t noticed.

  ‘Welcome, welcome,’ the Signora said. James made for the best position next to a window. The Signora held up her hand. ‘No, Signora Thompson she will sit here, beside me.’

  Even James couldn’t face down the old lady. She went on being insistent about the seating order and Nico began to think she’d planned it for some reason though he couldn’t see what. She sat at the head of the table with Luisa on her right and Mum on her left. Kevin and the twins were ranged down the right-hand side and Nico and James on the left. The end of the table was open. Pity the muppet isn’t sitting there on his own, Nico thought sullenly.

  After they’d ordered, the Signora asked Luisa what she thought of Borgo Sant’Angelo.

  ‘It’s very pleasant,’ she said.

  ‘Did you discover anything of interest?’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘Did you visit the church?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Perhaps you went further afield, to see the countryside with some of the local farms? They are very picturesque.’

  What’s she up to? Nico wondered. The old lady was no fool; why did she keep pushing when Luisa obviously didn’t want to talk? He decided to distract Signora Minardi. Rather him than the Thompsons, who were starting to look annoyed.

  ‘I went to the church,’ he said. ‘I made notes on the frescoes.’ Out of the corner of his eye he saw Jade mouth, ‘Thank you,’ as he passed his sketchbook down the table to the Signora.

  ‘I only had time to scribble some drawings and notes. I need to learn more. D’you know who could tell me?’

  ‘Yes, I do.’

  Signora Minardi fired off an order to a waiter who hurried to the noisy old people and spoke to the priest. He joined the Signora, greeted her formally and smiled vaguely at everyone else.


  ‘I have a young man here,’ the Signora said, ‘who wishes to know more about the paintings in San Giovanni. You must talk to him, but first let me introduce you to all my English guests.’

  The Signora went round the table giving names. The priest’s affable smile passed over them all though Nico noticed he looked longest at Luisa and while he did his eyes grew clear and alert.

  The priest spoke to Nico in slow, careful English, as though he hadn’t used the language for a long time and was trying hard to remember it as he went along. ‘I will introduce you to Professoressa Mussi, Camilla, who was a teacher here for many years. She knows art history better than me.’

  He beckoned towards the rowdy group though it wasn’t clear who he was gesturing to and the whole tableful came forward. All six knew the Signora and each of them was introduced in turn and shook hands with her English guests. Like the priest, they seemed particularly interested in Luisa.

  It’s like Bilbo’s unexpected party, Nico thought, especially as most of the elderly people were wizened enough to be mistaken for dwarfs; half of them had sticks and one had a walking frame. They staggered slowly round the table, shaking hands and saying, ‘Piacere,’ in wavery voices. The waiters and diners were staring openly in amazement.

  It’s surreal, Nico thought.

  The door of the restaurant burst open. It was yet another elderly man. He glared at the Signora, and the collection of aged people milling round her table. He came towards her, complaining bitterly.

  The Signora stood. ‘Enough!’ she commanded in Italian.

  The old man took no notice. He raged on, eyes wide and angry, his gaze sweeping round the table – until he caught sight of Luisa. He stopped mid-rant and stared; not covertly like the other old people but brazenly. He lifted his finger, pointing at Luisa. Kevin jumped to his feet, fists balled. A waiter grabbed the old man’s arm and the priest, suddenly surprisingly spry, seized the other and they frog-marched the seething old man out of the restaurant.

  James’s voice rang out in the shocked silence: ‘What the hell was that?’ For once he’d only said what everyone else was thinking.