‘Did two women in their thirties visit your garage today?’ She supplemented her question with a photograph of the two sisters that she had got from the mother’s phone.
He glanced down at it and scratched his head. Squinted as if he couldn’t quite make it out. Baroni bit back her frustration, prayed Santini would keep his cool.
‘Well?’
He pulled a face, sucked in his cheeks. Frowned as he kept on looking at the phone.
If he doesn’t answer me in the next ten seconds, thought Baroni, narrowing her eyes, I’m going to have him investigated for whatever minor misdemeanour he’s hiding; fiddling the books most likely. That’s got to be at least six seconds, she thought, mentally counting. Seven, eight, ni—
‘Si, I recognize them.’
She smiled. Just before the bell! Luckily for him.
‘What did they come in for?’
‘To rent a car.’
‘I need the vehicle type and registration plate,’ said Baroni, and after the dealer had got the information, she and Captain Santini left.
TWENTY-THREE
Susanna had been awake most of the night. She lay in her bed as the light crept around the edges of the blinds, feeling her heart sink at what she knew was going to be another hot day. She’d need to stay inside; in fact, would probably have to do so for a couple of days. Her skin was still sore from lying out on the patio in the full sun the previous afternoon and her head was pounding.
She slowly swung her legs off the bed and onto the floor. She needed to get to the bathroom and, carefully pulling a towel around her for modesty, she quietly opened the door and crossed over the landing. She locked the bathroom door behind her, relieved not to have seen Matteo.
As she turned, she caught sight of her face in the mirror. It was still red, one side brighter than the other from where it had taken the full force of the sun as it had lowered across the sky. Her hair was still matted and her scalp was sore from the fall. She tentatively raised a hand to touch the wound, felt the skin raised from swelling. Tears clogged her throat but she kept them back; no point feeling sorry for herself. She stared, seeing an ugly woman in front of her. Maybe she should have gone to the hospital after all. But it had been important – no, essential – to tell the police about Abby and the danger Ellie was in. She’d needed to do that before attending to her own injuries. Whatever sacrifice it was to herself, it was worth it.
TWENTY-FOUR
From her bed Abby stared through the crack in the curtains at the bright Tuscan sky. The window was open and a gentle breeze lifted the fabric every now and then, revealing glimpses of the hills, shrouded in an early morning blue haze. It was still cool but the brightness of the sun told Abby that, as the day progressed, it would be another scorcher.
With a sense of unease, Abby wondered if her car had been found yet, and what was going on back at her home in Elba. She felt a pang for Matteo that threatened to undo her and tears began to gather in the corners of her eyes. What must he have thought when he came home the previous day? She looked longingly at the phone at the side of the bed but knew she couldn’t call him. Not yet.
Abby quietly got up so as not to wake Ellie. She showered away the fitful night’s sleep, then as she got dressed she checked the time – it was early, not quite seven. But that meant it wouldn’t be long before the buffet downstairs opened, and she could kill for a cup of coffee.
Leaving Ellie asleep, Abby padded quietly down the stairs. In the dining room, the tables from the night before were remade with fresh linen. All stood empty. A long table running down the side of the room was filled with breads, pastries, cheese and cereal. Abby’s nose twitched at the smell of coffee and she poured herself a cup and added milk. As she took a sip, the owner of the pensione came in with a plate of fresh figs, which he placed on the table. He wished her a buongiorno before leaving again.
Abby’s attention was drawn to the corner of the room, where a TV was mounted on the wall. It was switched on; a stylishly dressed pair of presenters sat on a sofa, hosting a breakfast news show. She listened to the musical inflections of their language – her Italian was improving but she was still a long way off being fluent. They seemed to be discussing a political issue but she couldn’t quite make it all out. Then they took a pause before launching into the next item. Eyes fixed to the screen, Abby almost dropped her cup in horror. She was looking at her own face, Ellie by her side. A fixed smile on their faces as they obeyed Susanna’s request to have their photo taken in the restaurant they’d had lunch in only the day before. The newsreader was saying they were missing, that they had left Elba sometime yesterday afternoon and the police wanted to talk to them.
Abby flung her cup onto the nearest table and raced upstairs. She burst into the room just as Ellie was surfacing.
‘What’s happened?’ asked Ellie, still half asleep, nervous at Abby’s anxiety.
‘We need to leave,’ said Abby, starting to stuff Ellie’s things back into her suitcase. She threw over a dress, which Ellie caught. ‘Get dressed.’
‘What? Can’t I have a shower first?’
‘There’s no time.’
‘It won’t take long.’
Abby turned and looked at her sister. ‘Now, Ellie. We need to leave now. We’re on TV,’ she said through clenched teeth. ‘The owner of the pensione is down there – it’ll only take a couple of seconds for him to recognize us. That’s if he hasn’t already and called the police.’
Ellie’s eyes widened in fear. ‘Oh my God.’
Abby got her own bag and quickly filled it with her things. Ellie, now dressed, was simultaneously shoving her feet into her sandals and flinging her hair up into a ponytail.
The two sisters walked silently down the stairs, bags in hand. Halfway down they could see the pensione owner working at the reception desk. The minute they reached the bottom of the staircase, he’d spot them.
Abby waited, unsure of what to do, and then the owner’s wife called him from the kitchen. He got up and left the desk.
‘Now,’ said Abby, hurrying down the rest of the stairs. Ellie followed and they ran for the front door and across the car park to the car.
‘Hey!’ shouted a voice, and Abby turned to see the pensione owner coming after them. ‘You need to pay! Pagate!’
‘Get in, get in!’ yelled Abby and she flung their bags in the back as Ellie clambered into the car. Abby started the engine as the pensione owner’s fingers were grasping at the door handle. Petrified, she wrenched the car into gear and, just as the door began to open, she pulled away in a cloud of dust.
TWENTY-FIVE
‘What else did they say?’ asked Ellie. She looked anxiously over at the speedometer and wished Abby would slow down a bit.
‘I didn’t hear anything else. Just that we had gone missing and the police wanted to talk to us urgently.’
‘Do you think the guy back there, at the pensione, do you think he heard the news?’
‘If he hadn’t, it’s only a matter of time.’
Ellie stretched out her right leg; it still felt numb from the day before and she rubbed the muscles in her thigh.
‘You OK?’ asked Abby, glancing across.
‘Just a bit sore. Must be from the accident,’ Ellie said briefly, before changing the subject. ‘Where are we going?’
‘Don’t know,’ admitted Abby.
‘You do realize we’ve run again?’
Abby bit her lip. ‘Yeah.’
‘Makes me look even more guilty.’
‘You think we should’ve stayed? Handed ourselves in?’
‘Not “ourselves”. Me. I’m the one who pushed her.’
‘I drove the car. I’m an accessory.’
Ellie looked across at her sister. ‘Funny, isn’t it?’
‘What?’
‘All those years I wanted to spend time with you and you wouldn’t let me. Now look at us.’
‘Yeah, well, you were annoying,’ said Abby.
‘I was not
!’
‘Were to me. You couldn’t do a thing wrong. Mum only ever cared about you and your needs.’
‘I was ill,’ said Ellie. ‘As you well knew,’ she added tartly. She looked over at Abby, who was making a point of concentrating on the road. Probably avoiding the conversation, Ellie thought. Well, I want to have it.
‘I always felt guilty, you know. That Mum seemed to . . .’
‘Yes?’
‘Prefer me. I used to feel sorry for you but at the same time I loved her attention. Loved her.’ She shook her head. ‘So screwed up.’
‘Yes. But not you.’
‘So how much did you hate me?’ asked Ellie.
‘It wasn’t like that,’ said Abby, not altogether convincingly.
Ellie raised an eyebrow. ‘Come on, I want to know.’
‘No, you don’t.’
‘Let’s have it out. Here. Clear the air. It’s been hanging over us for, what . . . twenty-eight years?’
They were approaching a small village and Abby slowed the car. ‘I think we should get some food,’ she said as they passed a bakery. She turned into a side road and parked up. Without waiting for Ellie, she got out of the car.
Ellie exhaled, exasperated. She waited, drumming her fingers on the dashboard until Abby came back around the corner, hands clutching full paper bags and a bottle of water under each arm.
‘Here,’ said Abby, handing over one of the bags.
The smell coming from inside was intoxicating, but Ellie snatched both bags from Abby and held them out of reach.
‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘Not until you tell me.’
Abby laughed, unsure. ‘Are you serious?’
Ellie moved the bags even further away.
‘OK . . .’ said Abby. ‘Well, sometimes I used to pretend the milk you were pouring on your cornflakes was bleach. Then you’d die and be out of the way and Mum would finally pay me some attention.’
Ellie’s jaw dropped. ‘Oh my God. That’s horrific.’
‘I was young. Eight.’
‘You wanted me dead?’
‘Don’t all children wish their siblings dead at one point or another?’
‘No!’
‘Course they do. You just don’t remember.’
Abby wiggled her fingers and, still stunned, Ellie wordlessly handed over the paper bag of food.
‘That’s the wrong one, said Abby. ‘That’s yours.’
‘Oh,’ Ellie said, and handed Abby the other bag.
As Abby started the car, she looked over. ‘Come on,’ she insisted, ‘you should eat.’
Ellie looked into her own bag. She realized she was starving and, as they drove away, she pulled out the pastry and took a big bite.
TWENTY-SIX
1991
Abby dragged her feet as she followed Oscar’s mum down the street. She didn’t like it when other people picked her up from school, and she especially didn’t like Oscar’s mum because she was mean to her dog. She looked at the dog now, at it stopping to do a wee on the pavement, and Oscar’s mum was yanking its lead, telling it to ‘bloody hurry up’, and the poor dog was practically choking, still trying to get its wee out.
Oscar’s mum must have seen her look of disapproval because she glared at her and Abby’s eyes fell to the ground. Oscar was running on ahead, pretending to shoot at the cars as they drove by. Abby felt angry with him, at the way how he was completely oblivious to how his mother was treating his pet. She briefly wondered about faking a sprained ankle or something, just to buy the dog a bit of time, but knew it would make Oscar’s mum even angrier.
‘Can we get a bloody move on,’ said Oscar’s mum, only this time it seemed to be directed at her, and Abby knew she was an irritation, an inconvenience in this woman’s life.
Someone different had brought her home every day this week as Ellie was ill and off school. Susanna had been unable to leave the house, as Ellie was always being sick. If she’d had a dad, he would’ve been able to get her, but she hadn’t seen her dad since she was two – or at least that was the age her mother had told her she was when her dad had deserted them all for some ‘rich floozy’. Abby wasn’t really sure what a floozy was and, in fact, it sounded quite nice. The word had a sort of breezy, floating quality to it. But it was clear from her mother’s bitter look of disappointment that a floozy was not a good thing.
Abby hiked up her backpack and strode on after Oscar’s mum, the dog now having relieved itself. At least it was Friday, so she didn’t need to be palmed off on anyone tomorrow. And it had been a good Friday, thought Abby, smiling to herself. She had a special surprise that she couldn’t wait to share with her mum. This was a big one: something really cool that she was convinced would make her mum proud.
They turned the corner into her street and Abby ran on ahead until she got to her house. She lifted the door knocker and hammered it down loudly, both desperate to get away from Oscar’s mother and excited to be home and share her secret with her mum.
Her mother opened the door with a frown. ‘Abby, for heaven’s sake, Ellie’s just fallen asleep.’
Abby deflated – how was she supposed to know? – and she silently went into the house while her mother passed the obligatory small talk with Oscar’s mum.
As Abby went into the living room she saw her little sister lying on the sofa looking very tired and a bit yellow. A bucket was on the floor beside her. Ellie lifted her head when Abby came in, smiled at her.
‘Have you been sick?’ asked Abby.
‘Five times,’ said Ellie.
Abby’s eyes widened in awe. This was a new record. The last time Ellie was ill, back when it was snowing, she’d been sick a lot but the most was four times in one day.
‘Don’t disturb her, Abby.’
Her mother had come into the room and Abby was reminded of the secret she had. She excitedly shrugged her school bag off her shoulders so she could get out what was inside. Her mother went over to Ellie, laid a tender hand on her forehead.
‘Do you want Abby to leave the room?’ asked Susanna.
Abby halted a moment, hurt. Was she about to be thrown out? But Ellie shook her head. Now Abby had found what she was looking for and she thrust a piece of paper at her mother.
‘Mummy, look!’ she beamed. ‘I got a Head Teacher’s Award.’
Her mother glanced across at the certificate but didn’t take it. It was for working hard on her fractions in maths this week, and it was her third award that year, an exceptional milestone that was celebrated at school with a mention in assembly, and you had to stand up and all the other children clapped you.
The sound of retching interrupted them: Ellie was vomiting into the bucket.
‘Out of the way, Abby!’ snapped her mother and Abby found herself pushed aside. She watched as her mum held back Ellie’s hair and rubbed her back as she threw up nothing more than bile.
Abby waited for the episode to subside and, when it did, Ellie lay back on the sofa, exhausted. Now Mummy will look at my certificate, thought Abby, but her mother sat on the sofa next to Ellie, her back to her eldest daughter.
After a few moments it dawned on Abby that her mother wasn’t going to turn around – that she’d forgotten all about the certificate. Abby stood there for a moment, engulfed with shame, unsure of what to do. She quietly turned to leave the room. At the doorway she looked back again – just in case – but her mother hadn’t even noticed she’d left. Ellie saw her leave, though, and offered up a weak smile, but Abby cut her a look and walked out of the room.
Later that night, Abby lay in her bed listening to the sound of her mother’s voice in the next room. She was reading Ellie a story and Abby knew if she went in there, her mother would be lying in Ellie’s bed with her, one arm holding the book, the other around her sister. Abby also knew that when her mother had finished she’d come into her room to say goodnight, but she wouldn’t read to her, not even if Abby asked her to. Her mum always said she could read by herself now and it was Ellie wh
o was having to miss school and needed the help. Except Abby knew that Susanna had always read to Ellie, even when she hadn’t been ill. That was back when Abby was only small, but then her mother’s excuse was that Abby would learn quicker if she read herself. Tears pricked as the resentment erupted in her stomach. Ellie always gets what she wants, always has Mum’s attention.
In that moment Abby had never felt more alone. She put her book down because the tears were making it impossible to see the pages. Angrily, she wiped them away and yearned to be grown-up. It scared her how long away it was – years and years – so she pushed that to the back of her mind and instead thought about how, once she was an adult, she would be able to look after herself and not need anyone. Not even her mother.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Matteo answered his front door to find Lieutenant Colonel Baroni and Captain Santini standing there in the morning sunshine.
‘Have you found them?’ he immediately asked.
‘Yes and no,’ said Baroni. ‘Can we come in?’
Matteo led them into his kitchen and offered a drink, which they declined. He wanted them to get on with what they had to say. He was about to call in Susanna, who was sitting in the cool of the living room, alternating between reading her magazine and dozing off, but they said they wanted to speak to him first.
‘Has Abby called you?’ asked Baroni.
‘No.’
‘You are sure?’
‘Of course I’m sure.’
‘You understand that you need to tell us if Abby calls you, either on your mobile or here at the house?’
She is really pushing her luck, thought Matteo. He was tired. He had eventually got to work the previous night and had to explain to his superior officer that he suspected his wife had taken his gun. The other part of the story, the part he hadn’t admitted to Baroni and Susanna, was that although he’d locked it away, as per the ‘custody of weapons’ procedure, he’d made a fatal error of judgement.
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