‘So,’ said Tony, trying to gather his thoughts, ‘where have you been all these years? Why turn up now, when I’m old enough to look after myself? I don’t need you. I needed you once and you weren’t there. I’ve looked after myself, all these years. I don’t need you, and this meeting is finished.’
‘Please, Antonias, give me a few moments more. I’m an old woman, I’d like some memories of you to take to the grave with me. I’ve searched for you for eighteen years. I contacted your mother’s brother, Ben. I sent a letter to your mother and money for the flight home, but she disappeared. No one heard from her again. Maybe you can fill me in on those empty years, and I can fill you in on mine.’
She was pleading. She didn’t want their meeting to end like this, she could see he didn’t want to talk about his past, so she would help him. She took out the folder and handed it to him.
‘Don Carlos managed to get this file from the authorities on you, Antonias. Because of this I know some things, but others, I do not. Please, can we not sit and talk for a little while longer? I have come a long way to meet you, at last.’
Everything she was saying was going around and around in Tony’s head. He picked up the folder; he wanted to know what she already knew about him. He saw it had once said ‘Antony Perry’ on the front, and that had been crossed out and changed to ‘Lambrianu’.
It seemed this old woman knew a great deal about him; there was no hiding place. He nodded to her and sat down again.
‘Why are you here? What do you want of me, after all these years?’ he asked. He felt winded, like he had been punched in the stomach. He felt weak and vulnerable in front of this woman; she knew more about his origins than he did.
‘As I say, I have searched for you, Antonias, I have prayed for news of you. Your mother took you in the night, when I was in bed. I never saw you again.’
Miriam could see Tony was thinking, as though she had opened a box containing some long-lost memory.
‘You live on a farm with grapes,’ Tony said slowly, as though some recollection was slowly working its way back through the fog in his brain.
Miriam nodded. ‘A vineyard, I suppose a little boy would remember the grapes.’
‘What do I call you?’ asked Tony. ‘Grandmother’ seemed too familiar, considering he didn’t know her.
‘Call me Miriam, if you wish. I understand all this is quite a shock for you, as it is for me, and I don’t want to pressure you into anything. I am just so pleased I have got to see you one last time.’
Miriam couldn’t hold it back any longer, she burst into tears; all her prayers had been answered, at last. She didn’t expect this young man to trust her, why should he? But maybe they could sit and talk for a while, then if he never wanted to see her again, she would accept it graciously.
‘Tell me why my mother left in the night, as you say. Where’s my father? Does he know you’re here?’
Miriam indicated for Rosanna to pour more coffee, and she also told her to get Tony a large brandy.
‘Your father was killed in a tragic accident, before your mother left. Let me just say one thing before I fill you in on all the details. Annette was your mother, she is dead now and all her mistakes died with her. I will not speak ill of the dead, may she rest in peace.’ She made the sign of the cross on her chest.
Miriam was glad he was giving her this chance to speak, she needed her own absolution, to make her own confession of things that were said and done between she and Annette. At long last, she could get it all off her chest.
She wiped her eyes with a tissue from the box that Rosanna had given her, took a sip of her coffee and started to tell Antonias everything she could. She thought he deserved her honesty, otherwise he would never trust her. As harsh as the bitter truth was, she would tell him everything – if not for his sake, then for her own.
They ended up spending all afternoon together. They had tea together, and talked about each other’s lives. Tony felt embarrassed telling Miriam some of the things he had done, and how he had lived, but as it seemed she already knew a lot, he felt there was no point in hiding anything.
On hearing the truth, he couldn’t understand why his mother hadn’t just left him at the vineyard and got on with her own life. It all seemed so selfish, but he had already come to terms many years ago that she had been selfish regarding him many times in the past.
Eventually, Tony felt it was time to leave. He had heard enough and had a lot to think about.
‘You have never said, Antonias, are you married? Do you have a family?’ Miriam asked.
‘Definitely not, Miriam, to both. From what I’ve learnt about women, including my mother, I doubt I ever will.’ He laughed out loud.
That made her smile; he had a warm, loving laugh, and it reminded her of her son and his father. He was a young man sowing his wild oats.
‘Before you go, Antonias, I want you to have this.’ Miriam opened her handbag, took out a bank book, and handed it to him.
Tony opened it and looked inside. He saw his name and a string of entries. He looked at Miriam and then at the book again. There was over a million pounds in the account.
‘I don’t want your money, Miriam. We’ve met and we’ve talked, that’s enough. Here.’ He tried to hand the bank book back to her.
‘No,’ she said, firmly. ‘It’s not charity or a bribe, Antonias, it’s yours. For many years I filled your bedroom with toys and gifts for Christmas and birthdays. After a period of time, your grandfather, Fredo, suggested I put the money into this account, instead. This is every penny I would have spent on you. This is your Christmas and birthday presents. Please, take it, do what you want with it.’
‘You filled my bedroom with toys?’ Again, Tony was shocked. He hadn’t known what a child’s toy was for years. He hadn’t really celebrated Christmas or his birthday until he had gone to live with Elle.
‘Your bedroom is still there, just as you left it. Maybe you’ll come to Italy one day and see the vineyard and the house for yourself. After all, it’s yours now.’
Tony just nodded; he didn’t know what to say. He took the bank book; he felt it would be an insult to this woman if he didn’t. She had apparently thought of him every birthday and Christmas, and bought him a present or put money in his account. Every Christmas he had spent on the streets, freezing and starving, there had been someone out there, thinking about him.
‘Are you in trouble, Antonias? Don Carlos mentioned those diamonds we spoke about earlier.’
‘It’s nothing, Miriam. Don’t worry about it,’ he said, not wanting to discuss it.
‘I’m an old woman, and as strange as it may sound to a young man like you, I have a fancy. Fredo, your grandfather, used to buy me a box of chocolate truffles at Christmastime. Each night, I would have one, with my hot milk. To make them last long, I used to rub the bottom of the chocolate so that it melted and then I would lick the melted chocolate off. I found if you rubbed the bottom of the truffles, with their odd shape, the chocolate would harden again, and each night it looked like a new box. Look, I will show you. It is a little indulgence of mine.’
Miriam took an oddly shaped chocolate truffle from the new box she had at the side of her chair. She gently licked the bottom, and very gently rubbed it with her finger. The chocolate on the bottom of the chocolate started to melt, then she stroked her finger across it and watched it harden again.
‘You see, Antonias?’ She was smiling at him. ‘Many years ago, they used to put small pennies in them for the children as a Christmas treat. Obviously, no one does that anymore, in case they choke.’ Tony thought she seemed really pleased with herself, showing him her trick.
Tony gave her a wry smile; he thought the whole thing was disgusting. With all her money, she tried making a box of chocolates last longer by licking them. Yuk! He stood up to leave.
Miriam stood, too, and went to hug him, and he hugged her back. It felt good to know he had roots, even though he felt cheated by his mother for his los
t childhood.
Miriam had been very fair; she had not blamed his mother for anything. She had just told him the story as she knew it and left him to make his own mind up.
Tony got into the lift and waited while it went down all the floors to the reception area of the hotel. Once outside, he breathed in the fresh air, then walked around the corner to a side alley, where no one could see him, and burst out crying.
He couldn’t stop the tears from falling down his face. It felt more like grieving.
All his nightmares had come back. All the memories of being in the dark squat or on the streets, hungry and cold, being left on his own for days at a time, came flooding back to him.
He even remembered the times when he’d had to inject heroin into his mother, because her hands were shaking so badly she needed his help to shoot up ‘mummy’s medicine’. He felt real pain for the very first time. He had always shielded himself from pain, but this was agony, he felt sick in the stomach.
***
When he arrived back at Elle’s house, he went straight upstairs and shut the bedroom door. He didn’t want to talk to anyone, and he wanted to have a shower before Elle would see his eyes were red and puffy from crying.
‘Tony! Tony, come on downstairs and have a cup of tea. Tell me about your fancy meeting at the hotel,’ Elle shouted.
‘I’ll be down later,’ he shouted, from behind the closed bedroom door.
Elle knew something was wrong; she had known Tony long enough to know that he hid his feelings very well. There was only one person he would talk to and that was Jake.
Elle closed the lounge door so that she couldn’t be overheard by Tony, then telephoned Jake.
‘I don’t know what’s wrong,’ she said. ‘I thought he would have come back all excited, telling me all his news, but he hasn’t. He’s in his bedroom. Please come, Jake, he’ll talk to you.’
Elle didn’t know whether she was doing the right thing, but sooner or later, she would find out. Tony always told Jake everything. They were very close, they always had been. Elle made a cup of tea and waited.
Within half an hour, Jake walked in. ‘Where is he?’ he said, ‘what’s wrong?’
Elle shrugged her shoulders and just pointed to the ceiling, letting Jake know Tony was upstairs.
Jake knocked on Tony’s bedroom door and then walked in. He saw Tony lying flat on his back on his bed, just staring into space. He didn’t smile, as he usually did when he saw Jake. Something was definitely wrong.
Jake sat on the edge of the bed and waited. Tony took a big breath then let out a deep sigh; he knew Jake had come because of Elle.
‘It seems I have an Italian grandmother, visiting England and staying at that fancy hotel,’ he said. He didn’t look at Jake; he was staring at the bedroom ceiling.
Jake paused, he hadn’t known what to expect from this meeting, but in his wildest dreams he had never imagined this. Tony had a grandmother? Jake wasn’t stupid, he knew people had grandparents, but nothing had ever been mentioned about Tony having any. He’d assumed they were dead, like his own.
‘What’s she like?’ Given the circumstances, Jake felt it was better to be casual about it.
‘Old, Italian, rich. Says she’s been searching for me for eighteen years. That Italian guy I told you about is some kind of Mafia boss, he’s called Don Carlos or something. She said he recognized my name and went to see her, to tell her he knew where I was. That’s the long and short of it.’
Even Jake found it all hard to take in; no wonder Tony was upset and confused by it all.
‘When you say rich, what do you mean?’ Jake caught the bank book when Tony took it out and threw it at him.
Jake looked at the bank book and saw the large amount of money that was in the account. There were thousands, hundreds of thousands!
‘How is she so rich? What does she do? Jesus Christ, Tony, you’re a millionaire!’
‘She owns Lambrianu Vineyard; they make wine, quite popular wine, by all accounts. She said the money was what she had put away every Christmas and birthday I wasn’t there, but I don’t want it.’ Tony let out another sigh. He was a troubled man; all this was like some horror movie, a bolt from the blue.
He had been lying on his bed before Jake had arrived, thinking about what Miriam had told him. With every fibre in his body, he had tried to remember something from his past. Instead of nice memories, all he had done was awaken flashbacks to a certain thing he had tried his hardest to bury deep down inside him. He had been a small boy … how could he remember?
‘Right, mate, first things first. We’re going to go down to a local wine shop or supermarket and ask if they sell Lambrianu wine. Your grandmother’s done her detective work, now we’re going to do ours. Come on, get your coat, you can tell me the rest later.’
Tony hadn’t thought of that. Jake was right; they should go and see if this Lambrianu Vineyard was real. Tony stood up, swept his hair back and picked up his jacket, then looked into the mirror.
‘I’m going to wash my face first, got something in my eye,’ he said, then walked out of the bedroom.
Jake could tell he had been crying, his eyes were still a little puffy and his face was red. He accepted Tony’s excuse. Poor bastard, he had lived on the streets and in bad times had eaten out of bins, and all the time, according to this old lady, he had money to burn.
‘Okay, I’m ready,’ Tony said, popping his head around the bedroom door, and they both left on their own search for the truth.
They didn’t have to wait long for their answer. Jake drove them to a branch of a large well-known chain of supermarkets. He headed for the aisle that sold all the wines, Tony following in his wake.
To save him searching, Jake spotted one of the employees of the supermarket, stocking the shelves.
‘Excuse me,’ he said, ‘I’m looking for a bottle of wine. Lambrianu, I think it’s called, it’s Italian.’
Jake thought it best if he sounded vague, then if there wasn’t any such thing, he didn’t look like a fool.
‘Lambrianu wines,’ said the employee, staring at them both like they were stupid. ‘They are over there in the next aisle, white on the left, red on the right, but we don’t sell the clarets, you would have to go to a wine merchant for them. I’ll show you.’
The young man led the way and very helpfully showed them the wines. Jake and Tony looked at each other, then they looked at the shelves the employee was pointing at. They couldn’t believe their eyes. They both stared, open-mouthed. The shelves were full of bottles of wine, all bearing Tony’s name.
How many times had they walked around this store and never noticed the name ‘Lambrianu’, on the labels? They thanked the man, and Jake bought a bottle to take home and try.
‘Bloody hell, Tony, I can’t believe it. I’m not going to lie to you, I’m shocked, I don’t know what to say.’
‘I know the feeling.’
‘What are you going to do with the money? It’s yours, your grandmother wants you to have it.’
‘Don’t call her that. I call her “Miriam”, that’s her name. I don’t know what to do.’ Tony wasn’t yet ready to accept that he had a grandmother; for now, it was easier for him to think of her by her name.
Elle made them a cup of tea when they got back and, with a little pushing from Jake, Tony told her what had taken place that afternoon. She was astounded, there had been nothing in his file about family members looking for him.
‘Why weren’t they ever traced, on your behalf?’ she said.
‘Because the family didn’t know where I was, Elle, and the authorities didn’t know who I was. Simple.’
Elle put her hand over his. ‘When you say it like that, it is simple. I don’t want to interfere, love, this is your business and you have to deal with it, but I’m sure all of this has come as a great shock to her, too.’ Elle paused and looked at Tony. ‘Miriam,’ she said.
‘I’m sure you’re right. I don’t know why she’s dragged it all up. It
would have been better left well alone, in the past, where it belongs.’ Tony looked sad and was sombre in his mood.
‘No,’ said Elle. ‘By the sounds of it, Miriam has searched for you for many years. Even you admit there was no way to trace you, with no fixed abode and an assumed identity. You need to know your roots. You have to face your demons.’
‘Yes,’ said Jake, nudging Tony in the ribs, trying to make light of it. ‘When I used to get bullied at school, you said I had to face them and stand up to them, even when they still hit me. That was what you said. So, take your own advice, eh?’
Tony was smiling at him; he’d felt like he would never smile again, but Jake had achieved the unthinkable.
‘You know what?’ Tony said, looking at them both. ‘Know what I’m going to do with all that money?’
‘Oh, God,’ joked Jake, ‘he’s going to buy his own little harem so he doesn’t have to leave his bedroom.’
‘Why don’t you set yourself up in the garage business, Tony? You always were a good mechanic,’ said Elle. She felt this money would be put to good use if he used it for his future. A fresh start.
Tony was laughing again, especially at Jake’s suggestion. Not a bad idea, he supposed. ‘No. Us three are family, you’re the only family I’ve ever known, and many was the time, Elle, you could have sent me back to that kids’ home, but you didn’t. You always pleaded my case and stood up for me. You, Jake, have always been at my side, my brother, my business partner.’
‘Tony,’ said Elle, ‘we don’t want your thanks. I was never going to send you back, and you know that. I love you, I love you both.’ She was stressing the fact that she didn’t want his gratitude. Many was the time he had driven her crazy, but she would never give up on him.
‘Jake, you and Sharon are going to buy a house with your share and fill it with all the best gadgets you can find, and you, Elle, you’re always visiting that friend of yours, Minnie, and coming back telling us both how much you’ve enjoyed being at the seaside.’
‘You’re not buying me a house, Tony, that’s your money, fair and square,’ said Jake, looking shocked.
Dangerous Games Page 16
