So, it started innocently enough. We were just two colleagues going for a dip after work. At least that’s what I told myself. But as soon as I saw her magnetic curves and her breasts spill over the cups of her tight, black one-piece costume, I felt a desperation, a yearning for her.
Her blonde hair was pulled back into a messy bun. She swam up to me, her hazel eyes beckoning. It started harmlessly enough. But then, you know how it is, one thing leads to another …
‘Papà, are you sure one of us shouldn’t stay with Mamma tonight?’ Emily whispered as Sarah slept. Concern and fatigue were unmistakable in my daughter’s arched eyebrows and heavy frown.
‘Your mother needs to sleep,’ I replied gently. ‘If the doctors were worried about anything, they would have let us know. All she needs now is time to recover.’ She gazed at me with a look of apprehension in her eyes. ‘She’ll be fine, tesoro,’ I added, with the Italian word for ‘sweetheart’, and hugged her. ‘She’s in the best place she can be.’
Daniel had barely said a word to me since I got back from the lab; he merely followed us in silence out to the car. It had been the longest twenty-four hours of my life.
As we drove home, thoughts continued to torment me. I ran through the facts that I knew for sure, each time coming back to the same question: What did Sarah do in that two-hour window between leaving the site and crashing her car?
Something wasn’t sitting right. A chilling thought suddenly occurred to me. What if someone had been watching us? What if they saw everything and followed Sarah on her way home – forced her back to the lab, beat her until she opened the safe and then left her for dead in a car accident staged to explain her injuries?
I had been so keen to draw media attention to my work that I hadn’t considered that continually highlighting the monetary value of the necklace might place us in danger.
When we reached our apartment block, I told Daniel and Emily to go inside without me. I paced up and down the street while replaying the sinister scenario in my mind. The thought that someone might have tried to kill my wife made terror take hold of me. It put everything into perspective. This wasn’t just a necklace we’d found. It was the most valuable piece of religious jewellery in the world, worth around 150 million euros. And to some, that meant far more than a human life.
Sarah had to remember what happened to her. I saw no other option. I didn’t believe that the diagnosis of amnesia meant that those memories had been erased for good. Maybe that had been the case for other patients but it wouldn’t be for my wife.
When I eventually climbed the stairs to our apartment, a wave of fatigue hit me hard. I tried to reassure myself that the following morning, Sarah would wake up with the memories preceding the accident intact. My sinister theory would be wrong and Sarah would have a simple explanation for what happened to the necklace. We would get it back, and this nightmare would be over. The police investigation would be called off and I wouldn’t have to worry about what they might uncover about me. I could then finally make the media announcement, reveal my remarkable discovery to the world and relish in the fame and praise that followed.
But when my eyes closed to sleep, every fibre of my being seemed to be telling me that it wasn’t the end of the nightmare.
DANIEL
In the hazy space between dreaming and wakefulness, Daniel had a moment when his mother’s accident didn’t feel real. He woke up and almost expected to get out of bed and see her in the kitchen, the coffee distiller on, the smell of toast wafting through the apartment, her work bag packed and poised at the front door. And then it hit him with full force. His mother nearly died. Her car plunged off the road, into the river below. He was plagued by an image of what could have been the worst-case scenario – her car entering the river just a few feet farther down, water pouring through the windows as his mother lay unconscious, her head slumped on the steering wheel, the water rising until it swallowed the car and drowned her. The more he tried to push it out of his mind, the more fervently it rose to the forefront, morbid and terrifying.
It was early morning and the apartment was quiet. ‘Morning,’ he said to Emily, who was sitting in her pyjamas by the television, eating a bowl of cereal. ‘Where’s Papà?’
‘He’s in the study on his laptop. Will you take me to the hospital? I’m not going to school. Papà has work things to do for the next hour.’
Daniel could tell from the dark rings under her eyes and the paleness of her complexion that she hadn’t slept. Unlike Daniel, Emily was a morning person, always bright-eyed and full of energy. Most days she ran six kilometres and was back before Daniel had even woken up.
‘Yeah, sure,’ he replied.
While Emily dressed, Daniel did the things his mother usually would have if she were there. He cleaned the kitchen and then got the mail and newspaper. Sarah subscribed to an English-language newspaper that she read cover-to-cover every morning, so Daniel made a mental note to take it to the hospital for her. As he put it down on the counter, a headline grabbed his attention. He stared in shock at the bold, black ink on the front cover.
MARCO MORETTI’S WIFE IN NEAR-DEATH CAR ACCIDENT AFTER MAKING UNDISCLOSED FIND.
‘Papà!’ he yelled. Marco was out of the study in seconds, and yanked the paper from Daniel’s hands before he had even finished reading the first paragraph. He saw his father’s jaw tighten and heard his breath quicken.
Marco smashed his hand down on the kitchen counter, making Emily’s tea mug topple over. Daniel jumped back.
‘Stronzate,’ Marco muttered in Italian. Though they spoke English at home, his father always slipped into his native tongue when he swore.
Daniel stood behind him and read the article over his shoulder.
Archaeologist Sarah Moretti, wife of the acclaimed historian and television personality Doctor Marco Moretti, has been hospitalised after a serious car accident. She is expected to make a full recovery. The couple has been working on the excavation of Vincivoli Castle in the north of Florence. Marco Moretti sent an email to media hours prior to her accident inviting them to the dig site for ‘an exciting announcement’. Following her car crash, he postponed the announcement and has declined calls for comment from the media. It is believed that the discovery could have been in relation to the famed San Gennaro necklace, an exquisite, priceless jewel believed to have been lost at sea in 1799. Police are continuing their investigation and have not commented as to whether foul play is suspected. Anyone with information is urged to come forward.
Marco threw the newspaper against the wall. Daniel had never seen him in such a rage. His mouth was tense and his frown so deep that it transformed his forehead into a pattern of angry wrinkles. Even his eyes seemed darker. Emily paused in the corridor, watching in silence.
Marco paced up and down, seemingly unaware of his children’s presence. ‘Per Dio,’ he spat out, For God’s sake. ‘This is all I need right now.’
Daniel was so startled by his father’s temper that he stiffened, unable to speak. It was his sister who was able to voice his thoughts.
‘Papà, what’s the article about?’ she asked timidly.
It was only then that Marco seemed to register that they’d just witnessed his outburst. He looked at her, his eyes cold. ‘You know what the media is like, making up rubbish. Can’t they just leave our family alone?’
When it became clear that their father wasn’t going to elaborate, Emily cautiously picked up the newspaper and read it for herself.
Daniel tried to bite his tongue but if there was more to his mother’s accident, they had a right to know. ‘But the article said you sent an email out to the media. About making an announcement?’
‘I don’t have time for this stronzate,’ Marco snapped, his voice full of venom. With that, he grabbed his briefcase and laptop. ‘I’ve got to go somewhere,’ he said. ‘I’ll be at the hospital in a few hours. Don’t discuss the article with your mother. I don’t want anything to upset her.’
Marco left li
ke a cyclone, fast and furious. Daniel and Emily startled when he slammed the front door behind him, the sound carrying through the apartment’s empty rooms and sending goosebumps up their arms. They stood in the silence of his wake, with the uneasy sense that something wasn’t right.
Daniel dropped Emily at the hospital. He had suggested they sit at their mother’s bedside in shifts, but the truth was that Daniel needed some fresh air before he could face seeing his mother all bandaged and bruised. As a coping mechanism, Daniel sometimes blocked things that troubled him, pushed them back to the far recesses of his mind, until he was ready to confront them. He was doing that now as he walked in the direction of the Ponte Vecchio in search of Caterina’s jewellery stall as a way of distracting himself from his worries for his mother.
He left his car at the hospital and got on a train towards Le Cascine Park. He needed a brief reprieve from the darkness that had suddenly entered their lives.
Daniel stepped onto the medieval stone bridge, pausing by an artist who was at work on a watercolour depiction of the Ponte Vecchio’s three segmental arches and the colourful stores protruding over the Arno River. He continued along, passing a number of jewellery stores, each with elaborate displays of dangling silver and gold chains, sparkling diamond rings, colourful gemstone bracelets and crosses, and an array of pendants and brooches, all dazzling in the brightly lit windows. Daniel strolled past tourists who were pressed to the glass, peering inside as if hypnotised by the spell cast by the glittering jewels. Daniel looked inside each store, not for a trinket to take home, but for Caterina.
He stopped at the bridge’s midpoint, gazing down at the river below, thinking about his mother’s fragile state. In the reflection on the water’s ripples, the bridge itself looked fragile and vulnerable. Yet it wore its bumps and bruises like proud marks of its interesting tale of survival. It was the only Florentine bridge the retreating Germans didn’t blow up in 1944, and then it miraculously survived the catastrophic flood of 1966 despite being hit by debris and tree trunks that pierced right through shop windows. Daniel drew himself back from the sparkling vista, thinking that sometimes the things that seemed weak on the outside turned out to be the strongest.
Daniel kept walking across the bridge until he finally spotted Caterina in one of the quaint stores, which was framed above by a flowering terrace. She was wearing a tight-fitting pale pink dress and she had a soft smile on her lips as she delicately placed a series of gold chains around a mannequin. Daniel was mesmerised by her. All her movements were graceful; she even made hanging the chains look like an art. Her dark brown hair had soft waves in it and she was wearing striking, plum-coloured lipstick. Crossing the threshold into the store, Daniel suddenly realised he had no idea what he would say to explain his unexpected visit.
The shop was empty of customers. Caterina gazed up to see him and smiled. ‘How can I help you, signore?’ she said formally. For a moment, Daniel thought she didn’t recognise him, but then she rolled her eyes, gesturing behind her to where a tall man in a suit, with a thin moustache, stood polishing a silver pendant.
‘I’m looking for something pretty, a gemstone or pendant perhaps,’ Daniel said. The tall man gazed in his direction, so Daniel added, ‘For my wife,’ and then winked at Caterina when he looked away again.
‘Well, you’ve come to the right place. Here we specialise in sgriffatura, an ancient perforation that adds light to gemstones. Is there a particular gem you had in mind?’ Caterina said, her dark blue eyes lighting up.
‘Perhaps a sapphire to go with her sea-blue eyes,’ he said pointedly, looking into her eyes. ‘Along with a chain to accentuate her dancer’s neck and short brown hair. She is very beautiful.’
‘Excellent choice,’ Caterina said, blushing slightly when she must have realised he was describing her. She led him to a side of the store, where she pulled out a drawer and placed a tray on the table for him to inspect the different pendants on offer. After a few moments of Daniel playing along, the tall man put the pendant back in the window display and told Caterina he was stepping out.
Once the door closed behind him, Caterina relaxed her shoulders and laughed. ‘You were very good,’ she said. ‘My boss doesn’t like me to have visitors. So, what really brings you here?’
‘What do you mean? I’m here to buy jewellery for my wife,’ Daniel said, with a large grin.
She leaned an elbow on the desk and smirked. ‘Where is your ring, then?’
Daniel lifted his bare ring finger and laughed. ‘You got me. I was in the area, so I thought I’d pop by and say hello.’
‘You don’t need to lie, Daniel. You came here to see me. That’s okay,’ she said, smiling. She stepped out from behind the desk and kissed his cheek. ‘I’m glad you came. I’m so bored.’
‘Is it usually so quiet?’
‘Sometimes. When it is and my boss isn’t around, I draw ring and pendant designs on my sketchpad. I’d love to one day start my own range. But it’s not easy. You need money to start a business, and I make a pittance working here.’ There was sadness in her eyes for a moment and then just like that it was gone, replaced by her alluring smile. ‘My boss is gone for the afternoon, so I suppose I could go for an early lunch break. He won’t know,’ she grinned mischievously.
‘Sounds like a very reasonable idea,’ Daniel said, smiling.
‘You like hot chocolate, right?’
‘Look, I’ll be honest, summer and hot chocolate don’t really seem like the best combination to me, but I do have a sweet tooth.’
‘It’s the best hot chocolate in all of Italy – you have to try it.’
She pulled down the traditional folding wooden shutter over the window, transforming the store into a large wooden treasure chest. They walked off the bridge and turned right to stroll along the banks of the river in the bright sunlight, and then up Via de’ Benci until they reached the Basilica of Santa Croce, which rose up from the piazza, its brilliant white facade glimmering.
‘Every time I see the basilica, I still catch my breath. Its beauty never ceases to amaze me,’ Caterina said. Tourists were milling around, taking photos; a leather salesman leaned against the wall of his store encouraging them to come inside to look at his goods. They passed stalls selling art prints and Italian pashminas, and continued through the narrow cobbled streets that opened up to another piazza. In his mind, Daniel pictured them from above, moving like a small pulse through the city’s medley of arteries, making their way into the town’s heart.
‘There it is,’ she said, taking his hand and leading him across the square to a building with tall arched windows, and large cream umbrellas covering the round tables. ‘You haven’t lived until you’ve tried their hot chocolate.’
She looked excited to have brought him there. Daniel wasn’t much of a hot chocolate drinker but right now he would do just about anything she asked.
They walked inside and he stood back as she ordered two hot chocolates, ricotta cannelloni and a slice of tiramisu. As she handed them to Daniel she smiled and said, ‘La vita è troppo breve per mangiare e bere male.’
‘Life is too brief to eat and drink poorly,’ Daniel translated aloud in English as they found a table outside. ‘That’s a good mantra to live by.’
When they were seated under the umbrellas, Daniel gazed at the tourists milling about, taking in the sights and smells that made Florence so enchanting. When he turned his attention back to Caterina, he saw her staring at a discarded newspaper on the table beside them. Her eyes widened. ‘Oh my god. Is this your mother, Daniel?’
He saw the familiar headline and nodded feebly.
‘Why didn’t you say anything?’
‘I’m still trying to absorb what happened. I came to see you, I suppose, for a bit of escapism from it all.’
She put her hand tenderly on his shoulder. ‘I am so sorry. Is she okay?’
‘She’s recovering in hospital. She has fractured ribs and a broken wrist, and she received a knock to her head bu
t the doctors say she should make a full recovery, other than some permanent memory loss of a few days just before her accident.’
‘That’s awful. I’m glad she’s being well cared for. And the necklace? Is it true? Did they find it?’ she asked keenly.
‘I don’t know,’ he admitted. ‘My father is obviously very upset about the accident. We haven’t really had a chance to talk about anything else.’
‘Your poor father,’ she said, and Daniel immediately felt his jaw tighten.
The waiter came out with their hot chocolates and smiled at them as he placed the mugs on the table, unaware of how the mood had shifted. Daniel sipped the warm drink that was so rich in real chocolate it tasted like a pudding going down his throat. ‘It’s delicious,’ he said, deliberately changing the subject. ‘Thanks for taking me here, but I can’t stay long. I should get back to the hospital.’
She gazed at him as if trying to read his sudden tense expression. ‘Did I say something wrong?’ she asked in a wounded tone.
‘No, not at all. My father isn’t at the hospital,’ he said bitterly. ‘So I should be there.’
‘Of course. I understand,’ she said. When their drinks were finished, he stood up and she followed, dusting crumbs off her dress.
‘Before you go, can I show you something? It’s on the way back to my store.’
She walked close to him, her arm brushing against his skin. It didn’t seem deliberate or even flirtatious; she just struck him as someone who was quickly comfortable in other people’s company.
After two blocks, she stopped suddenly. ‘Here,’ she said and he looked up to see the most incredible music store. Guitars hung from the ceiling in every shape and size. The walls were crammed full with CDs and there was even a table of old records. The lights were dimmed inside and it was like stepping back in time.
‘Wow,’ he whispered.
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