The Mountain

by Massimo Donati

  ‘You won’t recognise me, Rosa, it’s been too many years, but I’m Roberto Beltrami.’

  He waited for a signal, but she simply continued to look at him.

  ‘As a child, I used to come to your hotel on holidays with Lia, my grandmother. To Madonna del Bosco.’

  Rosa leaned back in her chair, as though reflecting, but remained silent. Roberto waited a long time, and began to feel discouraged.

  ‘I’m Carlo’s son. Carlo Beltrami.’

  ‘Carlo.’

  In the midst of the woman’s apathy something had happened—the fog had suddenly cleared. As though his father’s name had for a moment jolted a very rusty mechanism back into action. The woman’s eyes darkened slowly, and she looked as if she might cry.

  ‘Carlo, Carlo.’

  ‘He’s my father,’ Roberto pointed to himself to help with the explanation. ‘I’m his son, I’m…I was Carlo’s boy.’

  A veil of pain had fallen over Rosa’s face. She brought one hand to her mouth as her eyes became wet with silent tears that ran freely down the furrows that old age had carved into her face.

  ‘She cries from time to time, don’t let it worry you,’ said the nurse, who approached as soon as he noticed. ‘There, there, it’s all right. Don’t worry, it’s nothing.’

  He cradled her head in his arm, as though she was a little girl who needed consoling, and carefully dabbed away her tears with a wet wipe. ‘It’s all right. Don’t worry, it’s all right.’

  She stopped crying, and suddenly, as Davide sat back down, she seemed to reawaken.

  ‘There was all that silence. A lovely silence. A silence of flowers. And then there was the fire. And then they went on that hike.’

  It was only now that Roberto realised that seeing her in that state was a great deal more painful than he had imagined.

  ‘Rosa, listen to me. I’m Roberto, Mattia’s summertime friend. I’d like to find Mattia. Where’s Mattia? Where has he gone?’

  She stared at him and seemed to have heard him. ‘Mattia.’

  ‘Yes, your son, Mattia.’

  Davide stuck his head around the glass door. ‘In a few minutes I need to take her back to her room. If you don’t mind, I’ll just go and smoke a cigarette on the staff balcony and I’ll be right back. I’ll just be a minute.’

  ‘Yes, of course, no problem.’

  Roberto watched him walk away and then refocused on Rosa, who seemed to have returned briefly to her old self.

  ‘I remember Mattia,’ she said, nodding to herself, ‘Mattia and Roberto, up the mountain. The hike up the mountain.’

  Roberto froze.

  ‘Rosa, do you remember what happened?’

  She nodded mechanically.

  ‘I remember. Yes, I remember.’

  And she appeared to start crying again.

  Roberto sat down next to her.

  ‘Yes, Rosa. Mattia and Roberto.’

  He whispered to her: ‘We were inseparable. Friends who were never out of each other’s thoughts. But they separated us. That’s why I need to find Mattia, Rosa.’

  Now he was cradling her in his arms, as Davide had done earlier. They stayed that way, in silence. In the warmth of his embrace she seemed to let everything go, content to give herself over to the pleasure of the unexpected intimacy. It had emerged spontaneously, without the need for understanding or explanation, a product of the ineffable power that conspires to unite human bodies.

  And as he cradled her, as she began to brighten up, Roberto grimaced, his face twisting with the effort to hold back his delinquent tears and force them back down inside. As soon as he had them under control, he leaned in and whispered in a thin voice, ‘Rosa, this is important. You know how important this is. I need to speak to him. That’s the only thing I still have left to do. Because ever since that night, ever since I saw him disappear into the dark, I’ve needed to explain. All this time I pretended not to know, until I almost forgot why. And by forgetting it, I’ve also forgotten how to put it right—yet it’s what I’ve been waiting all my life to do.

  ‘But now, finally, I know what I have to do. I have to find Mattia and explain. That’s why you need to help me, to return to your old self even just for a second so you can tell me where to find him. Otherwise I won’t be able to change the way my life has shaped itself—into a trap, a goddamned trap. I want to get out of it now, Rosa, and I’ve worked out how. But you need to help me, I can’t do it without your help. It won’t take much, just a word, just tell me where Mattia is.

  ‘Rosa—where is Mattia?’

  She seemed to react to his words. She detached herself from him slightly, looked intensely at him, smiled, and said, ‘Mattia went away.’

  Then she nuzzled into Roberto’s strong, warm arm once more. Finally, she added, as though in a dream: ‘But where’s Dino? Where is he? I don’t see him anymore.’

  Her eyes darkened again. Roberto held her close; held her tight and hid his face in the old woman’s soft shoulder; felt the aged body consumed by the inexorability of existence. She seemed content to stay that way a little longer, enjoying the embrace, until he gently moved her away.

  Shortly afterwards, Roberto was making his way back down the corridor. He looked around him, with the same curiosity as on his way in, hoping to see some other patient, some face that he could place alongside Rosa’s to cobble together some impression of human fellowship for her in this cemetery for the living. But the rooms were all closed and silent, the common areas empty. Or perhaps the route on which Davide was taking him was designed, out of respect for privacy, precisely to avoid any such encounter. Shortly before arriving in the lobby, the nurse stopped.

  He shook Roberto’s hand. ‘I have to say goodbye here.’

  ‘Can you tell me one more thing?’

  ‘I’ll do my best.’

  ‘Is there any chance she’ll get better?’

  The man smiled, avoiding eye contact. A bitter, resigned smile: official. ‘If they’re here, it’s because there’s no hope. They’re all like that. They can only get worse.’

  ‘But she has moments of lucidity.’

  ‘They’re becoming rarer. Rarer than last year, than the year before.’

  ‘How long has she been like this?’

  ‘As long as I’ve worked here, Signora Rosa has always been around. Fifteen years. That’s why I feel quite fond of her, as much as one can.’

  ‘Fifteen years?’

  ‘But she was here before that, a long time before. Someone once told me it began with a very severe depression, but that’s hearsay—I can’t tell you anything for sure. Nobody knows; sometimes there just isn’t a reason for it. Now I really must go.’

  ‘I need to ask you one last question.’

  ‘Last one.’

  ‘Do you remember if anyone’s ever been to visit her?’

  The nurse reflected a moment, swaying back and forth.

  ‘Someone came. An elderly man, well spoken.’

  Roberto, not surprised, remained silent in the hope of learning something more, something to grasp on to.

  ‘He’d have come maybe three times, a long time ago. In late July, and he would always bring a bunch of flowers. They looked like mountain flowers. I mean, flowers you pick, not ones you buy. Rosa liked them so much, as though they reminded her of somewhere, or something, in the past. But he hasn’t been to visit her for many years. Maybe he’s dead.’

  ‘Yes, probably.’

  It seemed that the conversation was over, and Roberto was about to say goodbye.

  ‘You know what? After the man stopped coming, a woman started visiting. She was younger.’

  Roberto studied the man’s face, trying to work out if he wasn’t simply trying to make his story more interesting.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure.’

  ‘And you don’t remember their names?’

  ‘We weren’t allowed to know their names. They had an arrangement with the management.’
/>   Roberto thought about this.

  ‘Can you tell me roughly how old she might have been?’

  ‘Between twenty and thirty. Hard to say.’

  ‘Why?’

  The nurse was trying to think back, his eyes cast down.

  ‘I’m not very good at guessing the age of foreigners, and she looked like she was from northern Europe, or eastern. That was my impression.’

  Later on, at the hotel, Roberto stopped by reception to collect the keycard for his room. A middle-aged man with a shock of completely white hair and whiskers presided over the customer service desk. He noted the room number and checked something.

  ‘A call came in for you.’

  ‘Who from?’

  ‘I’m sorry, they didn’t leave a name. But here’s the number for you to call back. They said it was very important.’

  Feeling apathetic, Roberto put the piece of paper in his pocket and walked away as the receptionist crossed off the item in the daily schedule.

  Back in his room, he took off his jacket and tie and dialled the number, standing by the bedside table because he wanted to get the call over with quickly. He had decided it was something tedious, something related to his work or his commitments in Zurich. Although he couldn’t work out how they’d managed to get hold of him.

  It rang for a long time. Just an instant before he was about to hang up, somebody answered. The silence was broken by panting.

  ‘Hello? I received a call from this number…’

  The unknown person at the other end of the line did not reply at first. There was a moment of uncertainty, as though they were deciding whether to go on.

  ‘Why did you pass yourself off as a lawyer?’

  The question was unexpected. Roberto recognised the former mayor Pichler’s voice. It took him a moment to reply.

  ‘To be honest, I don’t know. Perhaps because officially I’m here because of the will.’

  ‘Officially, you say?’

  The man spoke with a controlled rage that Roberto could hear but not understand.

  ‘What I mean is, I’m not only here about that.’

  ‘But are you really Roberto Beltrami?’

  ‘Yes, I am.’

  ‘We met thirty years ago. Isn’t that so?’

  ‘You met a boy who no longer exists.’

  ‘Have you come back to rake over the ashes of that old business?’

  Roberto sat down on the bed and stared at the built-in wardrobe in front of him. ‘My father is dead. And today I found Rosa. This evening I’ll call my lawyer and pass on the details required for the will. Then tomorrow, I’ll be leaving.’

  There was silence.

  ‘You’ve never forgiven yourself, have you?’

  Roberto furrowed his brow. The question sounded to his ears like an insult, an unforgivable invasion. He did not reply.

  ‘There are things you have no way of knowing,’ Pichler said. ‘Things nobody knows. It’s a weight I’ve been carrying around with me for thirty years.’

  Roberto leapt in. ‘What’s it got to do with you? This is a personal matter, all right? It concerns only me, my father and the Slat family.’

  ‘You’re wrong there. Come and see me tomorrow morning. There’s something I need to tell you before I die.’

  11

  Her fingers slid along the tight, rough fabric, across the embellishments on the suitcase she had placed on the bed.

  She was ready. She wanted to leave early the next morning. Before dawn, even.

  As she walked down the hallway to the stairs, pulling the case behind her, she felt her phone vibrating in the pocket of her cardigan.

  She hoped it was Roberto. But it was Ciprini.

  ‘Good evening.’

  ‘I’m sorry to disturb you, but Roberto’s mobile phone is always switched off.’

  ‘I believe he’s thrown it away.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Nothing. It was just a joke. He’s lost it.’

  ‘So how can I contact him?’

  ‘That’s the whole point. He doesn’t want to be disturbed. He’ll get in touch if he needs to. In the meantime, you can talk to me.’

  Ciprini hesitated, and then Elena said: ‘Everything he knows, I know, and vice versa. You can speak freely.’

  ‘It’s about Carlo’s financial transactions. I’ve now received the full documentation. And I’ve analysed it carefully.’

  Elena picked up her case and walked down the stairs.

  ‘Have you discovered something new?’

  ‘Remember those deposits into Rosa Slat’s bank account?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘I found subsequent deposits coming from the same account. Going right up until last year.’

  ‘How come you didn’t notice this earlier?’

  By now, Elena had reached the final flight of stairs, the one leading to the living room. Ada was sitting on the sofa, trying a new T-shirt on her little girl, who was showing it off and messing around with it, pulling it in every direction.

  ‘Because they’re not deposits into the account of Rosa Slat.’

  Elena stopped dead.

  ‘Who are these payments made out to?’

  ‘Are you alone?’

  ‘Yes, I’m alone.’

  ‘The beneficiary is Ada Smirnov.’

  Elena was silent. At that very moment Ada straightened the girl’s T-shirt and tidied her hair behind the denim headband she was so fond of.

  ‘Do you know what this means?’

  ‘That Ada continued making payments on Carlo’s behalf.’

  ‘It’s some kind of boarding fee.’

  ‘And Ada has never spoken to us about this.’

  ‘But why not? I don’t understand.’

  Elena stopped to think. Ada glimpsed her and smiled at her. She pointed to Alina, who waved her tiny hand timidly.

  ‘This is something between Carlo and Roberto. And Ada has always answered only to Carlo.’

  Now Ciprini was silent. He seemed disappointed.

  ‘There’s another important thing I need to tell you. Carlo made one final, very large transfer to Ada. The week before he died.’

  ‘Is that a coincidence?’

  ‘I don’t believe in coincidences. It’s a golden handshake. A farewell. Do you understand what that might mean?’

  Elena placed her suitcase on the ground and brought her free hand to her face, just as Ada came towards her.

  ‘You could have called me to help.’

  Elena gestured to Ada to stay where she was.

  ‘It means…’

  ‘That he knew he was going to die.’

  Ciprini did not respond. Elena shot a hostile look at Ada.

  ‘All right. Well, if there is nothing else, we’ll talk later.’

  ‘That’s all.’

  She put away her phone and walked past Ada to sit on the sofa.

  ‘What a lovely T-shirt,’ said Elena.

  ‘Mamma bought it for me. It smells of violets.’

  The little girl came up to her and Elena stroked her head.

  Ada sat next to her on the couch, tense.

  ‘Alina, go up to my room. In Mamma’s bag, there’s another little present. Wait for me up there, I’ll come up in a moment to play.’

  The little girl made her way up the stairs, hesitant. She made to come back down again once or twice, but in the end her curiosity about the gift won out and she ran up.

  As soon as she was sure Alina was out of earshot, Elena shifted in her seat and looked Ada straight in the eye.

  ‘You know where Rosa is and you said nothing.’

  Ada shook her head, but without conviction.

  ‘Ciprini traced the transactions.’

  The woman lowered her eyes. Coolly, resignedly, she ran her hand through her hair. ‘I only did what Carlo asked me to. He wanted Roberto to look for Rosa. It was not my intention to hurt anybody. And Carlo didn’t want to either, in my opinion.’

  ‘In your
opinion?’

  For a moment, a trace of uncertainty seemed to cross the icy expression on Ada’s face.

  ‘I did what I had to do, right up to the end. Debts must be paid, and I had an enormous debt to Carlo.’

  ‘What debt was that?’

  She tightened her fists in an automatic reflex.

  ‘He was like a father to me! Isn’t that enough?’

  She sat up straight and proud. ‘If it hadn’t been for him, I’d have lost Alina. She’s everything to me. I didn’t get custody, but I am allowed to see her.’

  ‘And in exchange he asked you to make the deposits for him.’

  Ada shook her head vigorously. ‘It wasn’t like that. That was the whole reason he employed me. I was to be an intermediary. He needed somebody discreet. Perhaps he thought that betraying him would only disadvantage me. But I prefer to think that he trusted me instinctively. He was a man who relied on his instincts.’

  She took a deep breath and collected her thoughts. ‘During those last days he made me promise I wouldn’t say anything about Rosa. All I had to do was keep quiet.’

  Elena looked at her, dejected, as though she was only now understanding. ‘You’re the part of the will he couldn’t put on paper.’

  Carlo’s assistant nodded.

  ‘So that Roberto would go back up into the mountains where he spent his childhood.’

  Elena reflected on this. His scheme was beginning to become clear to her. Then suddenly, with renewed intensity, she turned and looked Ada in the eyes.

  ‘What about the last transfer? Just one week before he died.’

  Ada’s eyes had become two deep black circles.

  The two women sat in silence.

  ‘You helped him to die.’

  ‘He begged me. He was sick, so sick. But it wasn’t just the pain. He was losing his mind, and he couldn’t stand that.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘I got him some medicine. He told me what to get.’

  ‘So that he would have a heart attack. And drown in the bathtub? They say it’s a horrible death.’

  Ada covered her eyes to maintain her dignity as the tears came despite her. ‘It was a goddamned mistake. With the timing. He just wanted to wash himself and lie down in bed. I wasn’t around; it was my day off and I’d gone with Alina to visit friends.’