Broken Chord (7 page)

Now that Vanessa had returned, Drago’s spirit had lifted. The boredom of this job and the cold of his office didn’t weigh on him today. Besides, Bruno would be back soon. The company of his colleague and friend would very welcome. He doodled a mandala on a piece of paper and looked out at the sky. Good weather was only appreciated when interrupted at intervals by some change, which in the summer usually meant a storm, but there wasn’t going to be one today. He vaguely wondered if all the criminals in Lucca were on holiday, apart from the muggers and even they were less industrious than usual, probably affected like himself by the heat. It was strange that he was willing something to happen, but he was. Here he was, actively desiring that a serious crime take place, well, maybe not a murder, but something big, no, what he meant was something complicated. He needed a puzzle to solve. In the meantime he began to read his guide book to Lucca again and wondered if he would have the stamina to climb the 225 stairs of the Guinigi Tower to reach the roof where there was, quite surprisingly, a small garden with seven oak trees and an amazing view of the amphitheatre and the whole of Lucca as well as the surrounding mountain range.

Ursula felt a huge upsurge of anger as she contemplated the ugliness of the immediate surroundings. There were two rusted and decaying old cars, numerous sheds and outhouses with corrugated
iron roofs, and dilapidated compounds which housed appallingly smelly goats, chickens, pigs and rabbits. In the heat, the stench was so overwhelming she was overcome by a wave of nausea and put a handkerchief to her nose as she approached the house. It was as ramshackle and disgusting as the pig pens. Shutters hung askew from the patched up windows. The pock-marked main door looked as though it had some kind of skin disease. It was opened by a toothless slattern of indeterminate age, wearing what appeared to be rags. A waft of cooking cabbage floated out and seemed to compound the wretchedness of it all. That was when the rage boiled in Ursula’s breast. She felt it as a tangible tide of hot wrath surging inside her and it erupted as she snapped at the woman. “Tell your husband to come out here.” She was horrified at herself. This was not what she’d intended by coming here. She’d wanted to be charming and win them over. No chance of that now.

The crone grinned at her, revealing blackened stubs of teeth and said, “Would Madam care to come in and have something to drink?” as she opened the door wider in invitation.

Ursula repressed a shudder. “No. Just ask him to come out here, now.” She hastily remembered her first intent and added, “Please.”

“Of course. He’ll be delighted, I’m sure.”

Ursula turned her back on the house and went a few paces away to observe the pathetic flowers potted in rusting tuna fish tins, the large tins that shops bought to sell the fish by weight. There was not a single saving grace in this house. The family, composed of out-of-work layabouts and rotting old folk, disgusted her so much she would willingly have had them all put down like the cats. She wanted them to vanish from the face of the earth. A complicated legal system protected tenants, especially those who had lived and worked in a place forever without paying any cash rent for the house, merely living in it as a reward for their services. No written contract had ever existed between her aunt and the Rossi family. Her lawyer had advised buying them off but they were indifferent to her offers, or had been up till now. The offer she was going to make to them today was too good to be true. She
was going to literally buy her house back from them. The sum she would give them would buy them a new house. She’d decided to come in person to make the offer, an offer they couldn’t refuse. If they did, which was unthinkable, they still have to go in the end, without a penny, but it would probably take years, years she didn’t want to have to live through. She brushed insistent flies away and roasted in the heat. Sweat was beginning to dampen her armpits. She felt as though the terrible smell of the animals was settling on her skin. She was going to have another shower, as soon as she got home, to wash it off.

“You wanted to speak to me.”

She whipped round and found the old crone’s husband standing far too close to her, close enough for her to smell that he had the same odour as his goats. He, too, was dressed in revolting garments that she thought hardly merited being called clothes. She managed to smile and bravely hold out a hand. “Hello, Mr Rossi, I wonder if I could have a little talk with you.” He grasped her hand in his own roughened and very dirty hand. The black-rimmed fingernails horrified her.

“Why don’t you come into the house?”

“No, thanks. I just wanted a quick word. I know we haven’t always seen eye-to-eye about things, but perhaps we could sort things out between us now.” She knew she was violating all the unwritten laws of business transactions by stubbornly remaining in the courtyard, but she couldn’t bring herself to go into the house. Who knew what further horrors lay in wait for her there?

“Fire away then.” He gave her hand a vicious squeeze before abruptly letting it drop.

“Look, as you know, I would like to have the house back. My lawyer has approached you several times about this, but I thought we could sort this all out in a friendly way, just the two of us.” She smiled hopefully at him. “I really do understand that you don’t want to go, so, after much thought and after consulting with my lawyer, I’ve decided to make you a very generous offer if you’ll move out.” She was gabbling as though she wanted to get the whole thing over and done with as soon as possible.

“How much?”, he asked abruptly.

She named the sum, “With that you can buy a house which would be yours, a much more comfortable house that nobody could ever throw you out of.”

He stood in silence and screwed his eyes up as though calculating. Then he said, “No. I’m not leaving here. Got it? You can try all you want but I’m staying.”

“In that case I think you’ll be very sorry. You’ll be thrown out on the street and you won’t get a penny from me.”

“I don’t think I’ll be thrown out in your lifetime, or mine come to that.” He hoicked and spat phlegm on the ground near her feet.

She could have wept with frustration. Throwing caution to the wind, she hissed, “I’ll get you out of here, make no mistake. You’re going to be very sorry you refused my offer.”

“Get off my property,” he shouted, reaching for a rusting pitchfork and aiming it at her. He yelled, “I like living here and I’m not going to move out just to please some rich, murderous, German cow, now get out and don’t come back or I’ll ram this right through you.”

Ursula caught a glimpse of Mrs Rossi standing in the doorway and grinning approval at her husband’s actions. She almost expected her to applaud. At the same moment a large motorbike shot into the farmyard and drew to a halt. A young man got off, whipped off his helmet and let his long dark locks fall around his face.

“What’s going on, Grandad?”

“Nothing. I’m just seeing Madam Cat-killer off.”

“Well, put the pitchfork down. You might hurt someone.”

“I’ll hurt her if she don’t leave us in peace.”

The boy moved forward, disarmed his grandfather and said to Ursula, “You’d better go, and take my advice, don’t come back. I know why you’ve come but he doesn’t want to leave this house and neither do the rest of us, so just let it be. I mean it.”

Despite the fact that he’d stopped the old man from running her through, there was a distinct air of menace in the way he spoke. Dressed in black leather, with a ring through his eyebrow
and another through his lower lip, he looked quite frightening.

She summoned up some courage and said tartly, “You’ll have to go in the end and you won’t get a penny from me.”

He moved towards her and hissed in her ear, “Listen, Mrs Rich Lady. You can’t have everything the way you want it. Get real. You don’t know nothing. You think you’ve got everything just perfect, apart from us being here, but you’re quite wrong.”

Ursula waited with a kind of horror. She had a presentiment that whatever this boy was going to say would be devastating.

He grinned at her, “Did you know…” he leant closer to her and whispered a few more words in her ear. He saw her face freeze with shock. “Didn’t know that, did you? A word of advice, you mind your business and I’ll mind mine.” Ursula stood stock still for a moment, her mind reeling. She suddenly turned and walked away, clenching her fists to stop her hands from shaking. But it wasn’t fear that made her shake, it was rage. As she strode through the farmyard a cloud of pigeons rose in the air and flew over her. She felt a drop of pigeon shit land squarely in the middle of her head, and tears sprang to her eyes.

Marianna lay on her bed listening to music. Her face was blotched and swollen from crying, her hair uncombed and tangled. She was wearing a large white T-shirt and boxers and her bare legs looked thin. Suddenly she ripped the earphones from her head and buried her face in the pillow. Her shoulders heaved as she cried silently.

She gave no sign that she’d heard the door open, but remained face down and motionless.

“Don’t you think it’s time to stop the theatricals?” asked Lapo. “It’s getting awfully boring.”

She raised her head from the pillow and remarked, “Go and fuck yourself, Lapo.”

“Tut, tut. Why don’t you give it a rest? Lover boy’s gone and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

She shot into sitting position, “What! Are you saying Roberto’s dead?”

“Not yet, my dear, but as far as you’re concerned he might as
well be. You won’t see him again.”

“How can you be like this? You haven’t got a compassionate bone in your body, have you? Haven’t you ever been in love?”

“No, thank the Lord, and I don’t think you have either.”

“Of course I have. You don’t know what you’re talking about. Why do you think I’m in this state?”

“Probably because you’ve been thwarted. You do like to get your own way, don’t you?”

“That’s not true. I’m in love with Roberto and he’s lying at death’s door and I can’t see him and I’ve got to go abroad with aunt Felicity and it’s all too awful.”

“Well, I admit the prospect of aunt Felicity is pretty grim, but if you were to be more reasonable none of that would be necessary.”

“Reasonable! You’re not even trying to understand.”

“Neither are you. Wake up sweetheart. Roberto is a loser. It was never on. It was going nowhere. He’s a nothing, a nobody, and even worse he was bringing you coke. Teo’s furious.”

“He knows?”

“Of course he does. Mamma’s told him all about it.”

“That’s another thing, how did she find out? It was you, wasn’t it?”

“No. Look, why don’t you take a shower, comb your hair, get dressed and behave like a normal person for once. You’ve been shut up in here for days and what good’s it doing you?”

“What do you care?”

“I care. The house is in turmoil. Isabella and Teo are near breaking point, the two children are underfoot all the time, driving Marta crazy, Mamma’s going mad about the tenants, and you’re up here being a drama queen. As for Guido, he sails along as though nothing’s wrong. All he can think about is being lord of the manor and putting Piero in his place, and Teo’s furious about Mamma getting married and so am I and I expect you are too, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m not. I don’t give a damn. I hate her and she deserves him. I hope she’ll be very unhappy.”

“I’m sure she will be, but it would still be much better if she didn’t marry him.”

Marianna smiled and said, “You can call him Papa, won’t that be amusing?”

“Ah, she smiled! Good girl. Come on, get dressed and come and join the fun. Isabella’s really more ghastly than ever and Guido is positively preening. You don’t know what you’re missing.”

“You’re very convincing.”

“Good. Make yourself look like a human being and I expect you to join us for afternoon tea at four fifteen on the dot. It’ll be fun. I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

Standing at the entrance of the Guinigi Tower Drago had an abrupt change of mind. It did look so tall and there were such a lot of stairs to climb and it was so hot. He turned away and let a group of Japanese tourists pass him. The street was narrow and he followed it and turned into the Via Filungo, the main street that crossed the city. It was always crowded with tourists who were window shopping or buying souvenirs. The old artisans shops had been replaced by well-known designer outlets, the ones that could be found in any town centre. He walked through to the amphitheatre. The circular piazza was full of shops and bars but still pleasant, so he sat down on one of the few seats available at a table under a large sun umbrella. The tables were all full and he could hear many different languages being spoken. He looked like any other tourist, his guide book in his hand, and he liked that. It made him feel anonymous. He ordered a focaccia and a bottle of mineral water from the waiter who had arrived promptly as soon as he had settled. He finished his quick lunch with a
caffe ristretto
, black and strong, and smoked a cigarette as he sipped it. On the table was a leaflet about an opera festival, which he read with interest and then stuffed in his pocket. It was a good walk back to the Procura so he set off walking briskly through the winding medieval streets towards the nearest city gate.

As Ursula reached the house, Piero was drawing up in the car. She was walking fast, red in the face and shaking with anger. He walked
towards her but she quickened her pace, “Not now Piero, later. I need a shower.”

He grasped her arm, “It’s important.”

She looked at him in disbelief and shook his hand off. “Don’t you dare touch me.”

He snatched his hand back as though it had been burnt. Ursula marched into the house and ran up the stairs fast. Piero went down to the kitchen where Marta was looking after the children. She had given them some pastry to roll out and they were shrieking with delight. She looked up as he came in.

“Where have you been? I’ve had to deal with these two all day. They only slept for an hour. Teo’s not back, nor her. No one came for lunch except Madam and Lapo.”

“I had an appointment. I’ll tell you about it later.”

“Well, anyway, you’re here now. I need to get the tea. It’s nearly four.”

“I’ll keep an eye on these two. You do whatever you have to.”

“I’m not even sure how many will be down for tea. Guido’s back, but everyone else has disappeared. I don’t know what’s going on. Marianna hasn’t eaten at all today.” She sounded fretful. Marta liked order. She liked to know what was going on and she liked to programme things meticulously.

“Madam just came in. Not in the best of moods,” he said quietly, so the children couldn’t hear.

Marta raised an eyebrow. Piero grimaced. “However, I think you should prepare for everyone anyway. Maybe Marianna will come down, and I think Lapo’s in. What can I do to help?”

“You can get the tray ready: cups, saucers, etc. and I’ll make the tea. The girls are fine for the moment.”

They moved fast and when the tray was ready, Marta took the children to wash their hands. Then she picked up the tray and sallied forth, taking it up to the cool drawing room. Piero took the childrens’ hands and led them along behind her.

The drawing room was silent and empty. No one was there, and the only sound that reverberated through the house was a discordant, distant shrieking of angry voices that floated down
from the floor above. Marta and Piero looked at each other in shocked disbelief. It was Ursula and Guido. Footsteps on the stairs brought them to their senses and Marianna came into the room looking tired but with a strange almost exultant smile on her lips.

“Fun and games,” she muttered.

A moment later Lapo came in grinning broadly. “Hello everyone. I see that tea is ready and I have quite an appetite. Those biscuits look quite delicious.” He swooped on the plate and took one. “I’m glad to see you’re up and about, Marianna. Feeling better?”

“Much better, thank you. You were quite right, you know.”

“I’m always right about the important things.”

Marta poured the tea and began handing it round while Piero settled the children at a small table. They all stopped, frozen for a moment, as they heard a car draw up. A few minutes later, Tebaldo came in. Meanwhile, the shouting from the next floor rose and diminished in volume, before reaching a sudden crescendo which was marked by the vicious slamming of a door.

They heard someone running down the stairs and then the front door slammed and a few minutes later a car took off at speed. Piero’s first thought was for the gravel. If things carried on like this the area in front of the house would be a disgrace.

“Another biscuit, Marianna?” Lapo thrust the plate under her nose with a smile. “I think we can eat them all. It doesn’t look as though Guido will be taking tea with us and I doubt Mamma will come down today.”

Marta gave him an anguished look and bustled out of the room. Tebaldo looked around and asked, “What’s going on?”

“Ructions,” said Lapo. “Where’s Isabella?”

Teo’s face darkened. “You mean she hasn’t come back yet?”

“No.”

“Oh.” He glanced at the children. “Well, I think I’ll take the girls down to the pool.”

“Yes, yes, Papa!” cried Arabella, jumping up and down with excitement.

“And me! And me!” shouted her sister, jumping up and down less expertly, imitating her.

“Don’t shout.”

“Granny was shouting.”

Teo almost choked on his tea. “Come on girls, let’s go and get your costumes and some towels.”

He passed Marta who was coming down the stairs.

“Is mother coming down? “

“No, she said she won’t. She has a migraine. She said maybe she’ll have a light supper in her room later.”

“I see, thank you, Marta.”

Marta scurried back to the drawing room where Piero was putting the dirty cups on the tray. Marianna sat in a chair staring out at the garden.

“Are you alright dear?” she asked.

“Fine thanks, Marta.” She hesitated, “Marta, have you heard anything about Roberto?”

“No, dear. I’m sorry. I’m sure we would have heard if things had got worse. No news is good news.”

“I suppose so.” She looked at the car keys Teo had tossed on the table and then resolutely picked them up and moved towards the door.

“You’re not eighteen till next month and you don’t have a driving license. You’ll get arrested.”

“Who cares? I’m going down to the hospital. You can’t stop me.”

“I can’t let you do that.”

“I’m going anyway.”

“I’m sorry, your mother doesn’t want you to see him and she was very firm about it, after the last time. Give me the keys.”

“The last time.” she said slowly, thinking back to when she had driven Roberto to the villa. It had been their last night together.

Marta took the keys from her and shook her head. “Believe me, Marianna, it’s all for the best.”

“What is, that Roberto’s dying? That was handy, wasn’t it, really opportune? You must all be overjoyed.”

Marta looked shocked. “That’s a terrible thing to say. None of us wished him ill.”

“Didn’t you? Come on, Marta, I’m not a fool.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Don’t I?” Marianna gave her a hard unfathomable look and ran from the room. Piero who had remained silent during the whole of this conversation, made no comment.

“What’s going on with Madam and Guido?” he asked.

“God knows. She looks awful.”

“Perhaps they’ve broken it off,” he said in a hopeful tone. “That would be nice.”

“Not necessarily. God knows who she’ll take up with next. Guido’s bad, but she’s had far worse.”

“True, but Guido is more of a danger to the smooth running of the house.”

“You mean more of a danger to you.”

“Well, let’s put it this way, if she marries Guido. I foresee difficulties.”

The arrival of another car brought the conversation to an end. They heard Isabella come in and meet up with her husband and children.

“Mummy, we’re going swimming with Papa.”

“Good. I’m going to lie down. I can feel a migraine coming on.”

“Take a pill. Have a good rest and we’ll hope to see you at dinner,” said Teo firmly.

Isabella turned away in silence.

“It seems that everyone has a migraine today,” commented Piero, as soon as they’d left the room.

“It’s stress,” said Marta. “I’ve given Madam an injection, but I’ll be damned if I do anything for that little peasant upstart.”

“Marta, my father was a farmer.”

“So what? So was hers but she pretends he wasn’t. She’s all wrong. She sticks out like a sore thumb in this house and you know it. I’m sorry, I love the kids but I can’t stand her. I’d like to have seen Teo marry someone more suitable.” “With his past?”

“Oh come off it, Piero. You know as well as I do that everyone
messes about when they’re young. They like to try things.”

“Marta, don’t you remember what he was like?”

“Yes, of course I do, how could I forget?” She said it almost bitterly as the memory of Teo’s thin white form lying across the steps of the villa in Florence rose before her eyes. She’d thought he was dead.

“Well then.”

“Even so, he could have done better than that.”