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Francesca gripped Ben’s hand with a feverish strength.
“I wanted to talk to Toni about it when he came for the funeral,” she sniffed. “I wanted to persuade him to come back to save the Cimbroni. But he hardly stayed at all. He came only to the ceremony. I was not able to speak to him on my own. It always seemed that Sylvia was watching us. Within a few hours he was gone again. He told me that he had some very important things he must do but that he would be back.”
Her voice was very plaintive. “But I have not seen him since then. He knew about the betrothal. I am sure that he would not have missed it unless something awful happened. I thought when you turned up that you might have come instead of him. But you brought me no message from him. Were you sent by Toni?”
“No,” said Ben, pleased that she couldn’t see his face. “Not exactly.”
“Have you come to take me to him? I have written to him to say that, if he will not come back, I wish to leave this place. Is that why you are here?”
“No. That is not the reason I am here.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Well-.” Ben knew he would have to tell her about what had happened to her brother. But how would he start to find the words?”
“Please tell me. I don’t understand why nobody will tell me anything.” And when he still remained silent, “There is something wrong, isn’t there? Has something happened to him? Is he ill or hurt?”
Ben gazed into the blackness. He couldn’t keep it from her any longer without telling downright lies. It seemed that there was no way that he was going to be able to avoid being the person who wrecked her life and her hopes. Desperately he searched for a way to break it to her without hurting her too badly.
The oppressive darkness was creeping in on him on all sides. Now that she had stopped talking, the silence had settled like a great thick eiderdown all around them. It seemed to be softly roaring in his ears, like the rush of a waterfall which has been near for so long that the sound has ceased to intrude. Something at the back of his mind was urging him that this noisy silence was important. Then suddenly he felt the hair begin to rise on the back of his neck. For he had realised what it was.
Ben leaped off the bed and rushed to open the door. Once he was in the corridor he could hear the ominous crackling and smell the smoke.
“Turn on the light,” he shouted. “The place is on fire.”
Nothing happened. Ben rushed back to the bedside table and switched the lamp on. Francesca was sitting there as though dazed.
“Hurry up,” he shouted.
He crossed to the wardrobe. As quickly as he could he pulled on his trousers over his shorts and slipped his bare feet into the shoes. He got out his jacket. As he put it on he checked that his wallet and passport were still in the inside pocket. When he turned back to Francesca she was still sitting on the bed. Her eyes seemed to be glazed.
“For God’s sake get moving.”
“He’s dead, isn’t he?”
He grabbed her hand and dragged her behind him to the door. “We’ve got to get out quickly, Francesca. The fire has already got quite a hold. This old building will go up like a torch.” He looked at her more carefully. “What’s the matter? Don’t you understand?”
She was hanging back, holding on to the door handle with all her strength. Her eyes stared fixedly at some wisps of smoke which were starting to filter under the door facing them across the corridor. It seemed to paralyse her.
“Francesca,” he yelled. “We’ve got to make a run for it.”
Still she didn’t respond. Her body had gone rigid, frozen with fear. Her eyes were big and black and staring. Her mouth was wide open as though emitting a silent scream. She seemed completely frozen into immobility. He had to go for help for her.
Ben let go her hand and stepped out into the corridor. He could see that smoke was seeping under some of the other doors and starting to gather below the ceiling. He turned left and made for the door at the end of the corridor which led to the main house. He caught hold of the stiff old brass handle, turned it and pulled. But the door didn’t move. He applied both hands and his full weight to the door without any effect. He looked down at the lock and gave the door a violent rattle. It yielded a fraction then came up against something hard. It was then he knew that someone had bolted it from the other side. As a result they were locked into this wing of the building and the whole place was about to burst into flames.
Behind him he heard Francesca coughing. She was now clinging to the door with both hands and he could see that the smoke around her was getting thicker. He would have to try and get her out through a window. They were on the second floor. It would be necessary to fashion some sort of a rope from the sheets on the bed. He didn’t know how she would respond to being made to climb out of a window. Could he persuade her to go down it if he went first?
However two steps into the bedroom made him realise that there was no chance of them getting out that way. The fire, which had obviously broken out on the floor below, was much worse now. The room was full of black, choking smoke and he could see hungry flames darting through gaps in the floorboards. Even as he watched, they suddenly burst out in front of the window. With a great gush of fire the heavy drapes seemed to evaporate into the air and there was a tinkling of glass as the window shattered in its frame.
Ben was deflected by a renewed fit of coughing from the girl and he turned back to her. “Francesca, you must get moving,” he shouted urgently.
He took her arm with the intention of getting her into the corridor. However her whole body was locked rigid. He tried to drag her hands from the door handle but she was grasping it with a frantic strength. She was clinging to the handle as though it was her lifeline. What on earth could he do with her?
The next second the centre of the bedroom floor exploded in a mass of flame. It was that which saved her. For the first time her eyes opened wide and focused on the fire. She let out a piercing scream and threw herself at Ben and clung to him.
“Come on - this way.” He dragged her into the corridor, half-stumbling and half running, and pulled the bedroom door shut behind him.
He tried the other door facing them, but it was locked. He looked around. Conditions in the corridor had significantly worsened in the half-minute or so while they had been in the bedroom. Looking towards the house it didn’t seem too bad, although the smoke was now too dense to see the bolted door. However when he looked the other way his heart nearly failed him. The floor seemed to glow and bulge as he watched. Smoke was seeping through gaps in the boards. It looked as though the whole place was about to erupt.
“What is at that end?” he asked, taking in a lung-full of smoke.
“The back steps,” Francesca gasped. She seemed to have woken up. “That is the way I came in. I knew where the key was.”
“So the door is unlocked?”
“Yes.”
“Then we’d better hurry. Run as fast as you can for the door. Keep to the side of the corridor.”
He pushed her in front of him and they set off. But they had gone no more than a few paces when a rush of flame burst through in the centre. Francesca immediately stopped, her limbs once more rigid with terror. Ben hesitated for only a fraction of a second. He swept the petrified girl into his arms and tried to sprint through the swirling smoke and flames. To his tired brain he didn’t seem to be moving. His feet were like lead. His progress was desperately slow and the door seemed to creep closer so slowly.
Half the distance was covered - three-quarters. Another gush of flame burst through the floor just beside him. Only five paces to go - three - two. Then suddenly the floor seemed to collapse below him and he was falling.
As he hurtled forward he tried to roll into a ball to protect his precious burden. The next second he crashed into the door and blackness descended upon him.
The Mafia Emblem Page 26