by Gill Vickery
Mum and Dad came into the waiting room, holding hands like children. Jade sprang to her feet. ‘How is she?’
‘She’s awake and the head injury’s not serious,’ Dad said.
‘What about her leg?’
There was a rasp of stubble as Dad rubbed a tired hand over his face. ‘It’s ugly. She’s going to need emergency surgery as soon as possible and then maybe more afterwards.’
Mum sank onto a chair as if her legs couldn’t support her any more.
‘Mum?’ Jade’s voice wavered. ‘Are you all right?’
Luisa ignored the question and looked at Jade, her eyes still darkened with fear and dread. ‘What was she doing on a scooter? Why didn’t you try and stop her?’
As Mum’s accusing questions tumbled out Jade saw the simple, beautiful plan for Nonno exposed as what it really was – a self-indulgent daydream covered in lies and deceit. She burst into tears.
The church bell rang loudly, four times. Nico had heard it at twelve, one, two and three. He gave up trying to sleep and went into the kitchen to get a drink. He thought about sneaking into his mother’s room and lifting the new E. J. Holm book but when he peered in he saw it lying on the bed between her and James. She must’ve gone to sleep reading it. He sloped back, picked up his drawing book, threw himself onto the sofa in the sitting room and worked on his drawings. Strange that he’d sat on the garage wall in a sort of trace and drawn, ignoring all the drama going on around him. The drawings weren’t bad either.
He shot upright, not believing what he saw on the page. Why hadn’t he realised while he was drawing? He began to laugh. The laughter grew into loud, dry hiccups that made his eyes water.
‘What’s up?’ It was James, bleary-eyed. ‘Are you crying?’
‘Of course not,’ Nico said. ‘I need to go out. Will you get me a taxi?’
‘Now? In the middle of the night?’
Nico stood up. ‘Yes, now – it might be too late if I leave it.’
‘You’re not making sense. It’s delayed shock.’
Nico thought for a moment. Was he in shock? He looked at the drawing again. ‘No, I’m all right. I just have to go.’
‘I’m coming with you. No need to disturb your mother – I’ll leave her a note in case she wakes up.’
‘OK.’ After he’d pulled on his clothes Nico picked up the blue bowl he’d forgotten to give Mrs Baxendall after all the drama of Mum’s encounter with the old lady. It would be more useful than he’d imagined when he bought it. Then he rummaged around in the kitchen cupboards, searching as quietly as he could. By the time James was ready Nico had collected a set of cutlery and a torch in addition to the blue bowl. James eyed them.
‘Where are we going?’
‘Back to the garage where the accident happened.’
‘Are you absolutely certain you’re not in shock?’
‘Yep.’
James’s mobile buzzed. ‘Taxi. Let’s go.’
They crept out stealthily to the surprise of a cat who was sleeping on the lobby mat and objected loudly to being moved.
Jade was all cried out. She tossed and turned, her eyes constantly drawn to the empty bed next to her. She’d never been parted from her twin at night, ever, and it was horrible. She needed so badly to talk to Amber about telling Mum and Dad everything – almost everything: their scheme, Caterina and Dario and Gaetano. She’d left out the discovery that Nonno had been a fascist and that the story he’d told them about rescuing an English spy was a complete lie. Mum had had enough shocks for one day without having to take in the fact that her father had deliberately caused the deaths of freedom fighters and children.
Jade threw her covers aside and got out of bed. What could she do to take her mind off the horrible thoughts running endlessly through her head? Music didn’t help. She switched the light on and saw The Shattered Mirror, the book Nico had brought her, lying on a chair. She picked it up and began to read from the beginning.
Nico shivered in the cold night air as he crouched at the base of the garage wall. The spoon was flimsy and it soon bent. The knife was better and sliced easily into the asphalt. ‘Move the torch a bit,’ he told James.
James pointed it at a patch of weeds soaked in sump oil. A police car swished by. James crouched lower. ‘Hurry up! We’re going to get arrested in a minute.’
Nico grunted and gouged with the fork. ‘I’m done. Give me the bowl.’
James passed it over and Nico scraped furiously at the soil under the asphalt.
‘Can we go now?’ James said.
‘Yep.’ Nico tucked the bowl under one arm and swung back over the wall, James following closely. They ran for the taxi waiting round the corner.
‘Go!’ James ordered and the taxi shot off.
‘God, I feel like the bloody Mafia.’ James slumped back and eyed the bowl. ‘I hope it’s worth it. This taxi fare’s going to be astronomical.’
‘It is.’
Nico hugged the bowl in silence till they got back to the apartment and found the Signora waiting for them with the cat in her arms. ‘Is all well?’ she asked.
‘Yes, thank you,’ James said. ‘We couldn’t sleep and went out for a walk to take our minds off things.’
‘I see.’
She sees too much, Nico thought.
‘Goodnight.’ James grasped Nico’s free arm and propelled him towards the apartment door.
‘I think we just about got away with that,’ he muttered.
CHAPTER XVII
NICO KEPT THE blue bowl and its contents in his room; he had no intention of telling Mum about it; she’d only want to butt in and take over and he wasn’t going to let that happen. James didn’t mention it either, Nico supposed for much the same reason. Mum went to the hospital to support Luisa and Kevin, insisting that James stay at the flat and supervise Nico. He couldn’t even talk to Jade; she was at the hospital with Amber where, according to Mum, Luisa and Kevin were keeping her on a tight rein as well.
Nico felt too restless for drawing or reading. He decided to go the Bargello museum. It was only a few streets away and Nico had noticed there was a special exhibition on. First he’d have to persuade James. When Nico went to check he found James sprawled on his bed snoring, his guidebook gently rising and falling with his noisy breathing.
Nico left him to it, slipped quietly out of the flat and walked to the Bargello. Suspended down one wall was a vast banner advertising an exhibition of work by Vincenzo Danti. Nico had never heard of him. He bought a ticket and went into the exhibition. He stopped dead and stared.
In a dimly lit tableau were three huge bronze figures stained with blue-green verdigris. A woman stood on the left, her body twisted away from the man kneeling before her but looking at him over her shoulder. To the other side of the man, an executioner pivoted on his toes, sword raised, caught at the exact moment before he slashed his sword downwards and beheaded the kneeling man.
Nico sat on a bench and drew the faces: the woman riveted, appalled; the condemned man serene; the executioner concentrating, open-mouthed, gathering his strength for the final stroke. Nico started on the hands, the long and shapely limbs. The humanity of the figures made Nico feel as though they might move. He could almost hear the shriek and clang of metal as bronze muscles flexed. His mobile rang and he dropped his pencil. The attendant scowled as Nico scrabbled for it and tried to answer his phone at the same time. It was James.
‘Where the hell are you?’
Nico told him.
‘Stay there. I’ll be with you in a few minutes. Don’t move!’
Nico sank back onto the bench and doggedly carried on drawing.
Amber slept in the recovery room with Mum and Dad on either side of her bed. Jade sat near the door. Her parents had hardly spoken to her and she didn’t know if it was because they were still angry or because they were exh
austed.
A movement in the glass panel of the door caught her eye. Dario!
She got up as casually as she could manage and said, ‘I’m going to the cafeteria. I’ll get you coffee.’
She closed the door behind her and pushed Dario away from it. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘I wanted to see how Amber is,’ he said.
Jade pulled him further down the corridor. ‘She’s fine. Let’s go and talk in the cafe.’
Over drinks Jade told Dario that Amber was sleeping off the anaesthetic after a successful operation to pin the complicated break in her leg.
‘And the head injury?’
‘Not serious. She’ll be in hospital for a bit though.’ That had caused problems for Dad: sorting out work and insurance and changing travel plans. The Signora had said they could stay in the apartment for as long as they needed to. Fortunately, she didn’t have any more bookings for another month. She helped with the arrangements at the hospital too, cutting through red tape and ensuring that everything ran smoothly. She’d been very efficient: officials unhesitatingly did everything she asked.
‘You’re sure she’s all right?’ Dario asked.
With a jolt Jade realised just how much Dario felt for Amber – and he’d only met her for about five minutes. She thought Amber felt the same about him – or was beginning to. ‘Yes, she’ll be fine. How’s Gaetano?’
‘Oh, he’s good. He’ll be going home later today. Mamma will fetch him.’
‘He was brave, pushing in between the car and the motorino like that.’
‘He’s a good man.’
‘So was my nonno.’ Oh, why did she have to say that?
‘I suppose he was, to you . . .’
Jade put her hand on Dario’s arm to stop him talking. ‘My dad’s coming.’ He was approaching them, looking quizzically at Dario.
‘Where are those coffees?’ Dad asked.
‘I got delayed.’
‘Oh?’ Dad looked pointedly at Dario.
Jade took a deep breath – this was a moment she’d been dreading. ‘Dad, meet Dario. He’s Mum’s nephew – great-nephew – something like that. His mum is Caterina, who I told you about yesterday.’
Dario offered his hand.
Dad shook it. ‘Is your mother at the hospital?’
‘Sì. I tell her to come here, no?’
Dad nodded and Dario left. The intense silence between Jade and Dad felt as though it went on for hours though it could only have been a few minutes before Dario came back with his mother.
‘Bloody Norah!’ Dad said. In spite of everything Jade couldn’t help grinning at her father’s reaction to Caterina’s dramatic resemblance to Mum.
Dad stared, right up to the moment Caterina joined them. ‘Can we talk?’ he said, getting straight to the point. ‘There’s a lot I’d like to know before I speak to my wife.’
‘Of course,’ Caterina said eagerly, her bewitching smile lighting up her face.
Dad asked Jade to take a coffee to Mum while he talked to Caterina.
‘I can see Amber also?’ Dario asked Dad.
He agreed and Jade went back to the recovery room with Dario almost running to get there as quickly as possible. He looked longingly at Amber’s still, pale face and Mum gently told him to take a chair by the bed. He practically jumped into it.
‘Who is this boy? And where’s your dad?’ Mum asked.
Jade answered both questions. Mum smiled briefly at Dario and then turned back to Amber. Jade couldn’t bear her mother’s reproachful silence another moment. Let Mum and Dario sit holding Amber’s hands; they didn’t want her, no one did.
‘Mum? Can I go back to the apartment?’
She didn’t even look at Jade as she spoke. ‘Yes, be careful.’
‘OK.’ Jade wasn’t sure what she was supposed to be careful of but at least the comment showed Mum was still bothered about her. Up to that moment Jade had felt Mum had written her off as though she’d done something terrible. But she hadn’t, she really hadn’t. All she’d done was try to find out the truth about Nonno. She’d been the cautious one, not Amber. It wasn’t fair.
James arrived at the Bargello with a grim expression on his face. He sat by Nico. ‘What do you think you’re up to?’
‘I wanted to see these.’ Nico tipped his head towards the mighty bronze statues. ‘They’re big because they come from high up over the front of the Baptistery and you have to be able to see the details from the ground. It’s the beheading of John the Baptist. That’s Salome on the left, then John, kneeling, and that’s the executioner.’
James lost the sour look and whistled softly. ‘They’re quite something.’
Nico closed his book.
‘Have you finished drawing?’ James asked.
‘For now. I’ll need to come back.’
‘Yes, you’re not going to get it in one sitting, are you? If ever.’
What did that mean? Did James actually understand how difficult it was to capture the sculptures’ power and beauty, or was he saying Nico was an incompetent artist?
‘D’you want to look round while we’re here?’ James asked.
Was he kidding?
‘You can explain the art to me.’
That was a first too. ‘All right.’ Nico guided James round, telling him about the sculptures and the men who made them; about what they were trying to do and how they looked with the eyes of the Renaissance, not the twenty-first century. They stood and watched restorers working on Donatello’s small bronze David, a lithe and graceful boy nothing like Michelangelo’s majestic marble creation that the whole world knew and marvelled at.
When they got back to the flat James disappeared into his room with a pile of books and pamphlets he’d bought from the Bargello. Nico took The Shattered Mirror and his leather-bound notebook out into the garden. He sat under the umbrella and copied out E. J. Holm’s descriptions of the chapel. Next to the writing he drew the inside and outside of Mrs Baxendall’s chapel. The only real difference Nico could see between the fictional one and the real one was that the fresco cycle wasn’t named in the novel. What did that mean? What was Mrs Bax’s connection with E. J. Holm – apart from the fact they had the same agent? Had she invited E. J. Holm to her house and shown him the chapel? If so, why did she say she’d never even shaken hands with the man?
‘The man.’ Mrs Baxendall had definitely referred to E. J. Holm as ‘he’. At least that settled the question of whether the writer was a man or a woman. If Mrs Bax had been telling the truth.
‘Hiya!’ Jade was leaning over the balcony pegging out washing on the line. She waved.
‘Want to come down?’ Nico called.
She joined him in seconds.
He asked after Amber and Jade explained that her sister was with Luisa and Dario and Kevin was talking to Caterina.
‘Amazing! How about you?’
‘I’ve been doing useful stuff.’ She pointed up at the washing. ‘Mum and Dad won’t have to do it when they get back now.’ She put an object on the table. ‘When I emptied my jeans for the wash I found this in my pocket.’
Nico picked up a blue, red and gold tin a bit bigger than his palm.
‘I found it at Gaetano’s old farmhouse yesterday,’ Jade said, ‘I forgot all about it with the crash and everything.’
Nico examined the tin while Jade told him how she’d found it in the stables. ‘Wild Woodbine Tobacco,’ he read from the lettering across blue diagonal stripes. ‘It’s pretty old.’
He shook it.
‘I did that,’ Jade said. ‘You can’t hear anything. You can’t open it either, the lid’s all rusted up.’
James shuffled out into the garden. ‘What’s up?’
Jade explained about the tin. ‘I know what you need,’ James said, went back inside and returned with a Swiss ar
my knife. He scraped at the lid, blew away the rust and passed the tin to Jade. She opened it.
‘Well?’ Nico asked.
‘It’s a bit of manky old cloth.’ Jade pulled out a yellowing piece of folded silky material. ‘It feels like there’s something inside it.’ She looked closer.
‘It stinks!’ she dropped it on the table. ‘You look,’ she said to Nico.
‘Thanks!’
‘Oh, for God’s sake, you pair of prima donnas.’ James unfolded the silk. Inside lay an old black and white photograph of a plump, fair woman, smiling shyly. There was nothing shy about the toddler in her arms: she was beaming straight at the camera from under a mop of blonde curls.
‘I wonder who they are?’ Jade gingerly turned the old photo over. On the back in neat, precise writing was:
Rebekah and Millie – 1944.
‘That’s not much help,’ Nico said.
‘The child looks about a year old, which means she’d be in her sixties now,’ James said. ‘They were probably a soldier’s family and he carried the photo to remind him of home.’
‘If it was that precious why did he leave it in the stable?’ Nico said. ‘And what was he doing there in the first place?’
‘Perhaps he was hiding from the enemy and had to get out in a hurry,’ James said.
‘That’s it!’ Jade blurted out. ‘According to Caterina, her grandfather’s family were sheltering an English spy and the Germans heard about it. When they came to get him, he escaped to the hills.’
‘Who’s Caterina?’ James asked.
Jade hurriedly ran through the bones of the events, missing out Nonno’s part in the story of the spy.
‘Quite a tale.’ James picked up the photo. ‘I wonder if there’s any way of finding out who the spy was and returning this to him – or his family if he’s dead. You could ask your Caterina.’
‘I can’t, not with the mess over the accident – Caterina’s got enough to worry about.’
‘Of course.’ James smiled at Jade and put the photo down.
Since when did he turn into Mr Sensitive? Nico thought.
James held the silk square up to the light. ‘I’ve read about these. They were used by the Special Operations Executive – a secret network of spies. This is a map disguised as a handkerchief – it’s printed in invisible ink.’ He squinted at the fabric. ‘You can just about see faint traces after all this time.’