by Evie Blake
‘My mother is dead, madam, and my father has a new wife and family.’
‘Oh, I am sorry, Pina.’ So that is why the girl is always here, never home for holidays and no visits from relatives.
She pauses, and looks at Pina. She is so young, she thinks. Nearly the same age as Belle herself was when she first got married.
‘You are so pretty, Pina, you must have many admirers.’
Pina blushes an even deeper shade of red. She casts her eyes down to the floor.
‘I really don’t care for any of them,’ she says.
‘Then don’t be persuaded to marry,’ says Belle firmly. ‘Enjoy your freedom while you can.’ As she says these words, she wonders what kind of freedom Pina might actually have. Certainly not as much as her.
‘I am not able to choose my own husband anyway.’
Belle turns around and scrutinises Pina’s face. And she sees, under all the shy softness, an anger burning inside the young Sicilian girl.
‘Why not? Your father seems not to bother with you any more. This is 1929, Pina, not the eighteenth century.’
‘There is an agreement between my father and Signor Brzezinski.’
Belle frowns. What does the girl mean?
‘What kind of arrangement?’
‘Signor Brzezinski is to select my husband,’ says the girl, barely audible.
‘Why does he get to choose your husband, Pina?’
Pina looks distressed. She clasps her hands, and tears spring into her eyes.
‘I shouldn’t say.’
Belle thinks. What kind of power could Signor Brzezinski hold over another man?
‘It’s to do with money, isn’t it, Pina?’
The girl nods, her voice barely raised above a whisper.
‘My father had to give me as a maid to Signor Brzezinski in payment for his debts to him. It was agreed that when I was seventeen, Signor Brzezinski would arrange my marriage to his own advantage.’
The young girl’s voice is shaking with emotion. Belle sits down on the stool in the bathroom, her eyebrow brush still in her hand. The shock of what she has just heard registers slowly. Her husband is no better than a pimp. What other young women has he controlled over the years? She looks at the maid, a thought suddenly occurring to her.
‘And how old are you now, Pina?’ she asks.
‘I was seventeen last week.’
Belle looks into Pina’s tearful eyes and she sees herself, the little Polish girl, and the last conversation she had with her dying father. An unpleasant thought occurs to her. What exactly did her father say to her? She dredges back the words.
‘It is a good marriage, Ludwika. He is a rich man and can provide well for you and your mother. He has contacts with the Germans. He can get you both out of Warsaw.’
How she begged her father.
‘I don’t want to go, Tata. I want to stay here with you. Please.’
Her father raised his hand weakly, his eyes filled with tears.
‘It is my dying wish, my daughter. You must promise me you will marry this man, and look after your mother.’
‘No, Tata, I can’t. I don’t love him . . .’
‘He will save your lives, Ludwika. You must do it.’
She was sobbing, clinging on to her father’s hand. He didn’t look like himself any more. He was a shadow of his former self. Where was her big strong father, who could knock down any man? She looked across the bed at her mother, but she was so beside herself with grief that she didn’t even see her daughter.
‘Alexsy,’ she was whispering. ‘Alexsy, don’t leave me . . .’
‘Promise me,’ her father hissed with his dying breath, and she did it. She looked straight into his eyes and said yes, she would marry Signor Brzezinski. She has never really understood why her father demanded such a thing of her, until now. Suddenly the reason is as clear as day. She was bounty as well. She knows her father had money problems, for after he died it materialised that he had not a penny left to his name. So she was the return on an unpaid debt. She feels sick again at the thought of it. How could her father, and her mother, have done that to her? Their betrayal cuts through her, makes her heart so heavy she feels like crying, and yet she can’t, not in front of this poor Sicilian girl.
Now her decision is irrefutable. Today she will cut the ghosts of her parents free. It is too late for her mother anyway. She knows in her heart that she is never coming back. The last time she saw her she was lost, for ever relegated to that place of no return. Signor Brzezinski cannot hurt her now. Belle takes a deep breath and turns back to the mirror, lifts her chin to her reflection.
‘You must run away, Pina,’ she says to the reflection of the red-eyed girl. ‘I will give you money.’
Pina is shaking her head.
‘No, I cannot leave you,’ she says.
Belle raises her eyebrows and stares at the girl for a moment.
‘Well if that is the case, my dear, then we must escape together.’
‘But what about my father, and his family? He is indebted to Signor Brzezinski. What will happen to them if I run away?’
Belle spins around on her stool, leans forward and takes the girl’s hands in hers.
‘You must not worry about them, Pina,’ she says harshly. ‘Your father has given you up to Signor Brzezinski. You must think of yourself now. You owe your father nothing.’
She feels the expression in the girl’s eyes lighten, as if for the first time she has been given a little hope.
‘But where will we go?’ she asks.
‘I don’t know,’ says Belle, her eyes flashing with excitement. ‘All I can tell you is that we will be sailing out across the lagoon and never coming back.’
As she speaks, Belle hears the door of her bedroom banging open. The two women exchange glances. There is no one else in the household who would make such an entrance.
‘Louise!’
It is Signor Brzezinski. Not even nine in the morning and he is angry, Belle thinks wearily. How will I avoid being hit? she muses.
‘Stay here,’ she whispers to Pina, putting her finger to her lips. Today she must placate her husband if it is to be the day of their great escape.
Belle emerges from the bathroom, still not fully made up. Her husband is dressed in one of his smart business suits. His thinning grey hair is slicked back, and his large pale forehead shines like the top of her boiled egg.
‘Is something the matter, sir?’ she asks politely.
‘I have heard reports,’ he says.
She raises her eyebrows.
‘You mean rumours, sir? You should not trust gossip.’
Signor Brzezinski takes a step towards her and grabs the wrist of her right hand, squeezing tightly. She tries not to react, although he is hurting her.
‘I have received an eyewitness account that you were seen on a rooftop in Venice, naked, and with a strange man.’
She laughs with false jollity.
‘Oh really, Signor Brzezinski,’ she says. ‘Why on earth would I do something like that? I would have to be mad!’
He shoves his face into hers. His eyes are black slits.
‘Yes, that’s what I thought, my dear. But you see, this is a very reliable witness. It was reported to me that not only were you naked on this rooftop, but you were also fornicating in broad daylight with a common sailor.’
She holds his gaze and stares back at him, brazen in her denial.
‘I may have misbehaved in the past, sir, but you have taught me well not to disobey you. I can assure you that I would have to be crazy to attempt to do such a thing and invite your wrath yet again.’
She manages to pull her arm away, and rubs it in an effort to hide the mark.
‘What woman does a thing like that?’ she says. ‘Not even a prostitute.’
‘A woman like you, Louise. A foul, sinful creature,’ her husband hisses through his teeth. ‘If I had known you would be so much trouble . . . If I had known you would be a useless wife,
not even able to give me a child, I would have made a different choice.’
He grabs her by the arm again, and pulls her close to him. She can see the perspiration on his forehead, smell his disgusting breath.
‘I needn’t have married you, for I had your mother anyway.’
His words are worse than a punch to the stomach. Belle wants to double over, but as she writhes away from him, he grabs her other wrist so that he is so close to her, she can see the blood in his eyes.
‘You want to know what drove your mother mad? It was me, Louise. She made your father sacrifice you to me. I never wanted you.’
‘You’re a liar,’ she whispers.
He drops her arms and steps back, looking pleased with himself.
‘What I wanted was quite simple, really. Your father owed me money. I desired his wife. Conveniently, he was dying. I told him that I would take his wife as mine, in payment for his debt.’
The room begins to spin. She mustn’t faint, she has to stay upright.
‘Oh, but your parents were so in love,’ he says nastily. ‘They loved each other more than they loved you, Louise, because your father convinced me to marry you instead of your mother.’
He begins to laugh.
‘The stupid man! Do you think I would let any woman turn me down? Why do you think I brought her all the way from Warsaw to Venice after your father died? As far as I was concerned, I was getting two for the price of one. Your mother did for me until . . .’
A shadow crosses his face, and for a moment Signor Brzezinski doesn’t look too pleased with himself. She sees him collecting himself, his eyes hardening again.
‘Until she got sick, and then . . . when I was forced to place her on Poveglia, well then it was your turn, Louise.’
She looks at the dark, damaged soul of her husband, and she knows that what he says is true.
‘No!’ she says through clenched teeth.
‘You are not normal,’ he continues, spitting at her in anger. ‘You can’t give me a child, and you behave like some kind of depraved creature, fucking the whole of Venice right in front of my eyes. In my opinion you are insane, just like your mother, and it is time for you to join her.’
He surges forward and grabs her in a headlock, but Belle’s rage is so great that she strains forward and bites his neck. He cries out, stepping back, and she can see her teeth marks and blood springing through the punctured skin.
‘Oh, wonderful.’ Signor Brzezinski laughs. ‘More evidence of your insanity. I think it will be easy enough to obtain an annulment, don’t you? Then I can find myself a new, clean bride, and I won’t have to put up with a dirty whore any more.’
He pushes her back on to the bed, so that she falls upon it, the tray of her breakfast things scattering on the floor. He slaps her face, and she is kicking back. He is not sending her to that island of terror so that she becomes like her mother, hearing the screams of ghosts from the time of the plague. All those poor people dragged out there to rot. She will not be left to wander along its beach layered with the ash of their burnt bones. She remembers meeting her mother’s doctor, a chilling figure, who, despite Signor Brzezinski’s assurances that he was a leader in his field, Belle was convinced was some kind of sadist. He performed lobotomies, for God’s sake. No, she is not going to Poveglia. She would rather die here on this bed now than let that happen. She doesn’t care about her promise to her father any more. She is not going to look after her mother, for her mother never looked after her.
She kicks Signor Brzezinski between the legs, and he doubles over in shock. She jumps up off the bed and makes for the door, but then she remembers Pina, in the bathroom, and hesitates. Her chance is lost. Signor Brzezinski grabs her from behind and spins her across the room. She stumbles, falling and landing backwards on the carpet. He is standing over her, his foot raised above her stomach.
‘I am going to crush you, Louise, obliterate your useless womb,’ he snarls.
He looks like a demon, Belle thinks. She closes her eyes and waits for pain. In the middle of her fear she feels a second of grief for the darkness that is her husband. How did he become like this?
‘Stop!’
She hears Pina screaming. She opens her eyes and sees her maid pulling at Signor Brzezinski’s arms. Her husband is so surprised he momentarily calms down and puts his foot back down on the floor. Pina continues to pull at him desperately.
‘She’s with child!’ she screams.
Signor Brzezinski teeters back as if he has been drinking, and looks at Belle lying on the ground in front of him.
‘Is this true?’
She is about to say Of course not. She can’t think why Pina is telling Signor Brzezinski that she is pregnant. She is Barren Brzezinska. And then a thought occurs to her. It is not her, but him. He is the Barren Brzezinski. And she remembers that time with Santos after Signor Brzezinski beat her, when they were not so careful. Since then she has not bled. She brings her hand to her stomach protectively. Of course, that was why she was sick, and that was how Pina knew. She looks at Pina in awe. At the girl’s flushed cheeks, and the terrified look in her eyes, like a lamb about to be slaughtered. She is so brave to come between Belle and her husband.
‘Yes, I am with child,’ she whispers.
‘Well,’ he says darkly, ‘I am sure it is not mine.’
‘But no one will know . . .’ whispers Pina.
So courageous, Belle thinks. This girl is my protector.
Signor Brzezinski looks at Pina and considers her.
‘So this is my heir?’ he asks the young Sicilian. ‘Some sailor’s bastard child?’
Belle sits up, pulls the hair away from her face.
‘Yes,’ she challenges him, and he turns to look at her. And you will never set eyes on this baby. We are leaving Venice.
‘Your condition has saved you from Poveglia, Louise, for the time being,’ he says gruffly. ‘I need this child to be mine. Finally you will give me an heir . . . even if it is not my own flesh and blood . . . but you must be punished for this. Severely.’
She sees the cold flint settle in his eyes, and before she can think, he has grabbed Pina by the arm and pushed her up against the wall. The girl screams, and Belle leaps to her feet and runs over to her brute of a husband, clawing at his back. He is too strong for her and knocks her aside. He swings his arm wide and punches Pina in the belly. The girl doubles over in agony.
‘You bastard!’ Belle screams.
Signor Brzezinski backs away from Pina, who flops on to the floor. Belle rushes over to her and protects the girl within her arms. The child is shaking uncontrollably. Belle has never felt such a killing rage for her husband.
‘You leave her alone,’ she hisses.
‘I can see that there is a fondness between mistress and maid,’ he replies, such venom in his voice. ‘So, my dear, if I have any reason to believe that you are not performing your duties as a respectable wife with child, it will be Pina who will have to take your punishment.’
He walks over to the two women.
‘And I won’t just be hitting her either.’
He shoves his hand between Pina’s legs, and the girl winces in pain and fright. Belle pushes his hand away.
‘I will tie you to a chair, Louise, and make you watch me take this girl’s maidenhead. You will be responsible for her ruin.’
Pina is quaking in Belle’s arms. She pulls the girl closer, feeling her frantic heartbeat against her chest.
‘If you touch a hair on this girl’s head, I will kill you,’ she hisses at her husband.
He steps back and laughs at her. He is the picture of masculine mirth, hands on his hips as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. Her threat is preposterous to him.
‘Excuse me, ladies, I must away, for I have important business to attend to.’
As he strides out of the room, Belle has a vision of herself grabbing the candlestick on her dressing table and driving it through the back of his head.
Stay
calm, she tells herself. Run away.
She turns to Pina, lifts the sobbing girl’s chin.
‘Are you all right?’
The maid nods, still unable to speak. Belle pulls her to her feet.
‘As soon as he has left the house, we have to go.’
‘But where will we go?’
Belle rushes to the wardrobe and pulls out a carpet bag.
‘Trust me, Pina. I know someone who will help us.’
‘But I can’t go with you! My family . . .’
‘You have to. Signor Brzezinski will hurt you if you don’t. Your family hasn’t protected you. You owe them nothing.’
‘But what if he catches us?’ She hears the terrified tremor in the young girl’s voice.
‘He won’t. I promise.’
Belle has made one more promise to decide another person’s fate. Yet she is confident that soon she and Pina will be safe.
We are escaping, Pina, the baby and I.
Santos will save them. How can he not?
Valentina
VALENTINA ENTERS THE DARK ROOM. IT IS SO BLACK INSIDE that when she raises her hand she cannot see it in front of her face. It is cooler in here than the Velvet Underworld, and she can feel her naked skin goosepimpling with the chill and anticipation. She has no idea how large the room is. Or if there is anyone else in here with her yet. She walks blindly forward in her high-heeled boots, afraid she will stumble. There is a sound in the room. A deep bass throb like a heartbeat inside her head. It is as if the room, though dressed like death, is in fact alive around her.
Suddenly there is a click, and a blaze of white light. In the centre of the black room is a huge light box, made out of a table. Just like her one at home but even larger. Beside the box stands Leonardo, naked apart from a Venetian mask with a fantastic black plume in its centre, and a pair of black leather gloves, exactly as she described it to him. She walks towards him and her legs are shaking. Why is she so frightened? This is her fantasy. Her secret desire, kept safe inside the Dark Room for no one else to find. She is even anonymous herself, the mask she is wearing concealing her identity as well.