“True,” pronounced Giorgio starting in on his second plate of spaghetti. “Some of his students are so bad; he should probably advise them to give up music.”
“Good, I’m glad we agree. Now we can move on, following a logical sequence of thought, and we will arrive….”
“Oh, don’t say at our point of departure, everyone says that.” interrupted Giorgio, attacking his third glass of wine and trying to sound like a bored intellectual.
“Certainly not; we will arrive at the place to which I am trying to take you.”
Miriam Greene, a very large lady seated at the other side of Diana, shifted her bulk restlessly. She was wearing a kaftan, which afforded no restraint, and had very short grey hair, little more than stubble. Her strong features gave her the air of an elderly patrician. She leant forwards and said, “My dear Giorgio, what he’s saying is that the teaching staff is no bloody good. That’s why the whole thing’s not working Let’s face it, it’s a bloody travesty of what it was.” As this was said in a penetrating voice, those seated nearest to them moved their heads together and whispered. Diana touched her arm to advise caution.
“That’s not true,” protested Giorgio. “We have some fine teachers, doing solid work. You can’t blame them for mediocre students.”
“Can’t you?” said Mario quietly.
“No,” said Giorgio stoutly. “I presume you are excepting yourself from this universal judgement, and there are the master classes.”
“That’s three out of twelve.”
“Look Mario, I have known some of these people for years. Some of them bring more than ten pupils.”
“Any third rate teacher can rustle up a group of pupils and entice them to a summer school, set in a beautiful scenario, with the additional bait of public performances, which is also an added attraction for parents. We have never been interested in quantity. Quality has always been our only concern; quantity was a natural follow on. Once.”
Giorgio set down his pasta laden fork with the air of one abandoning it with regret. “I see” he said quietly. “You are blaming me for the fall in quality. I chose the teachers, so I’m to blame. Is that it? Diana? Mario?”
“Giorgio, I think we should discuss this aspect at length, on Monday, when we have the meeting.” replied Diana
“No, no. Let’s discuss it now, where everyone can hear. Why wait till Monday? Why do it behind closed doors? Because the outcome is a forgone conclusion isn’t it? I’m to blame; I get the chop.”
The others sat silently, like those afraid to move in the presence of an explosive device. Mario tried to defuse him by saying, “Come Giorgio, let’s eat and leave all this till Monday. You can see it’s not the right moment.”
“It’ the right moment, alright.” He began to push his chair backwards prior to flight, “I want everyone to hear what I have to say. I’m resigning. That’s what you want, isn’t it? But I’m going now, not at the end of the course, so you can sort out all the problems yourself, Diana. That’s what you want really. You want control, well you can have it. I’m sick and tired of serving as the polisher of your husband’s memorial. Because that’s all I am. There’s never been much in this for me.” He struggled and finally managed to stand up, ripping his napkin from his neck with a flourish.
Miriam who had been watching him carefully, said, “Sit down man and shut up. How do you want to leave here? With everyone knowing you’ve made a balls-up, or with a discrete announcement to the press that you feel you need to move on to bigger and better things.”
Giorgio glared at her. “Listen you fat bitch, I go when I choose, and in the manner I choose. If I go now, there’ll be an announcement in the press alright, and when I’ve finished explaining the lack of intellectual freedom that I found so unbearable, as an artiste, no one will want to take my place.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. What a silly little man you are. I’m surprised Diana has put up with you for so long. I very much doubt that anyone would believe your version of the facts. Your career hasn’t been exactly brilliant. In fact, I think we can safely say you are on a downhill slide. Bugger off, and don’t come back.”
“Miriam!” exclaimed Diana.
“Don’t waste any more time on that insignificant lump of shit. Let him go and try to spread his poison around; it won’t get him anywhere.”
“Diana, if this foul-mouthed cow is your mouthpiece then I congratulate you. I thought you had more taste.” He bowed formally and left them, waddling off into the night.
There was a shocked silence, as the whole table had heard most of the latter part of this argument, then most of the other guests got up and followed Giorgio, disappearing into the dark.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Miriam picked up her fork complacently and began to eat; she had chosen the vegetarian meal, because she had high cholesterol.
“Well, Diana,” she said just before filling her mouth. “That’s settled that. We won’t see him again. I never did like the little twerp. You won’t miss him either, because he was doing bugger all. He spent most of the course feeding his face.”
“Miriam, you are a terrible woman” said Mario. She nodded agreement, chewing on her food.
“What are we going to do now, Mario?” asked Diana.
“We should hold an emergency meeting tomorrow. I’ll get onto the councillors. The others won’t come of course, there’s not the time. In the mean time, I mean now, we’d better decide on an interim plan otherwise there’ll be kids wandering about tomorrow morning, not knowing what to do with themselves.”
“Do you think many of the teachers will follow him?”
“No. They’ve left now, as a reaction to his resignation, but when they’ve slept on it, they’ll decide to stay and see what happens, if nothing else.”
“Not the violin teacher, he’ll go, I bet you.”
“Probably, after all they are bosom buddies. Well, we will have to find a substitute. The show must go on. Why don’t you do it yourself Diana, you’re quite capable.”
“I’d rather not, but if there is no alternative, I will. We’ll see.”
“What about the orchestra, who is going to rehearse them and conduct?”
“God knows. I might have had an idea, but there’s no chance of that now,” said Diana bitterly.
Miriam stopped eating, and looked at her. “Where’s Cosimo?” she asked.” Come to that, where are Francesca, Emily and Arturo, Ambra, and Angelo? Have all your kids deserted you?”
Diana shocking even herself, burst into tears.
“Come, come, my dear. This is most unlike you. What’s up Diana?”
Mario said, “I have never seen you cry, Diana. What is so terrible that you should be so upset? It isn’t because of Giorgio, I’m sure.”
“Of course it isn’t. It’s those bloody kids of hers. What’s happened, have they staged a revolution? Joined forces to fight maternal dominion?” Miriam sounded surprised.
Diana laughed through her tears. “Sort of. It’s the most bloody time for me. I don’t know what’s happening, everything is too much for me at the moment, and worst of all, Angelo has disappeared. I’m so worried about him. I know he looks so tough, and strong, but he’s only just seventeen.”
“How long has he been gone?”
“Two nights. I phoned the Maresciallo this morning, and he told me not to worry as most kids who disappear return pretty quickly, but I can’t understand why he hasn’t phoned. He always phones.”
“Diana, my dear, what can I say? You must calm down. I suggest a large gin and tonic, it will help you to see things in perspective, in fact, I think I’ll have one myself.” Miriam raised a plump arm, and waved it at Orlando, who had appeared in the doorway, jangling her bracelets, “Hey, Orlando, bring us a couple of stiff gin and tonics, we’re in desperate need over here.”
“Make that three,” said Mario.
“My God, what’s going on?” asked Orlando “Where’s everyone gone? Why aren't you eating?” He looked at Ma
rio and Diana's plates that they had pushed away from them. “Is it my cooking? Wasn't the meat cooked through? I know I can't match Arturo's efforts, but I did my best.”
“The meat was fine. We've just decided to move on to liquid nourishment. Only Miriam still has an appetite, but the rest of us need a strong drink.”
“Is it to celebrate the departure of Mr. Porky Piglet? I saw him leaving with a host of followers. Because if it is, I can open a bottle of bubbly, and then we can all toast him good riddance? I've never liked the man, though I must say I have always envied his capacity for food.”
They all laughed and Mario said, “No, this is therapeutic. We all need some medicine.”
Orlando looked at his mother, who had reddened eyes, and said, “I see. Coming up then,” and went into the house. Chiara looked at him as he came in and went to the drinks tray. “What the hell is happening?”
“Ructions.”
The breeze strengthened and in the distance rumblings made themselves heard. A ‘basso continuato’ accompaniment to conversation. The music teachers, who had remained at the table, quickly finished their subdued meal and took their leave, desperate to rush into town and find out exactly what had happened. The candles burned themselves even lower in their paper sacks. Miriam and Diana covered their shoulders with shawls, and the men put on their jackets. Chiara and Orlando cleared away plates and stacked the dishwasher as Signora Bianchi had long ago toddled home to the joys of grandmotherly life. As she left them, she had glanced at the star-less sky, and remarked, “ There’ll be a storm tonight, and about time too. The land is parched.”
Miriam announced, “My chauffeur should be here any minute, so I’ll be off, and just in time by the look of the sky. Call me tomorrow, Diana. Mario, fix the meeting for the late afternoon would you, because I’ve an appointment in the morning, and I rest after lunch, as does anyone who has any sense, in this climate.”
“I already did, my dear. I phoned the councillors earlier while you were on your second gin, that’s probably why you didn’t notice.”
“Did I drink two gins? That was very naughty of me. Well, we won’t tell the doctor.” She smiled at them all.
“Actually Miriam, just for the record, you had three,” said Orlando, “and I’m going to blackmail you. Pay up or I tell the doctor.”
“Don’t be ridiculous dear boy, I only had two.”
“Three and you smoked two cigarettes.”
“Impossible. Well, enough of this frivolous chit-chat. I see Enrico has arrived, so if some one will kindly help me out of my chair, I’ll take my leave of you. I won’t say thank you for the lovely evening, even though part of it was very enjoyable.”
Orlando and Mario stationed themselves one on each side of her and heaved. Then they assisted her to her car, and stowed her inside. “I don’t know how Enrico’s going to get her out of there,” said Orlando.
“Oh, he’s had a lot of experience; he’s quite good at it.”
The wind was getting stronger by the minute and the rumblings had become more distinctly thunderous. Flashes of light lit vast areas of sky.
“Let’s get the last things in, Chiara, before it hits us.” He turned to his mother who was nursing her glass of gin and tonic and gazing at nothing. “Madre, go to bed. You’re exhausted. You too, Mario. We’ll manage quite well on our own, since Arturo has made himself scarce this evening. I think he's off sulking somewhere, and Emily has gone to succour him.”
“That sounds pretty disgusting, Olly,” said Chiara
“I’m sure it is.”
Mario and Diana left them, and the two siblings worked fast.
“I must say, you’re being a very good boy, Olly. What are you up to?”
“Wait and see.”
“How’s your girlfriend?”
“Which one?”
“That leggy dark girl.”
“Don’t know her.”
“Who have you got now, then?”
“No one you know.”
“I believe that. My friends wouldn’t go out with someone like you.”
“Nor I with them, believe me. They all have straw in their hair, and strut about whacking their thighs with riding whips.”
“Really Olly, you are a terrible boy.”
“Man, darling.”
“What? Oh, you mean you are a man. Yes I suppose you are, one forgets.”
“Come on, give me a hand with Miriam’s chair, it must weigh nearly as much as she does.”
They closed the terrace doors and shuttered them, then went methodically through the house doing the same, and unplugging computers, televisions, cordless phones, and the boiler with its electronic control system.
“I think that’s the lot. Goodnight, Olly. Thanks for helping. I don’t know what’s happening to this family at the moment. It’s awful, the atmosphere I mean. I hate it when everybody argues all the time and goes around sulking.”
“I know, it is pretty awful, but all good things come to an end, Chiara, and we can’t all live together forever. It’s normal for sons and daughters to want to break out and go off on their own and be independent. I’d like to, wouldn’t you?”
“In a way I suppose I would. You can if you want to; surely, after all you’re certainly old enough. I’m only eighteen, I’d like another year or two here, you know, just to see how things develop.”
“Well, I can’t. Mother has the purse strings firmly in her hands and I think she likes having us all at her beck and call. She has never really fostered independence has she? I mean, look at Emily, she’ll never leave, and she puts up with more than we do, you know.”
“What would you do, if you had the money? If you have a really good idea, I think she would back you.”
“No, not after that fiasco with the local produce thing. Also, well, I’m very stupid sometimes. I waste money. I’m not reliable, shall we say, but I do feel that I could have been, if things had been different.”
“That’s too difficult for me to follow at this time of night. I was up early, and in the stables all day, and tomorrow will be the same. I must go to bed, before I fall down and sleep right here in the hall.”
They separated and went each to his own room. Ambra was sleeping. Chiara hadn’t seen her all day. She decided to have a long talk with her the next day, and find what was going on. Nobody had said anything much, but she knew there had been an argument. When she got back from the stables, Ambra had been asleep, and looked so worn out that she hadn't wanted to wake her. Then when she hadn’t turned up to help this evening, Chiara had known it must be something pretty bad.
It had started to rain now. The thunder was overhead and the lightening lit the room briefly through the slats of the outside shutters. She crawled into her bed and listened as the falling rain began to beat viciously on the roof, then plunged effortlessly into sleep.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
During the night, the storm crashed restlessly about them. Ambra was dreaming. Her violin case was in a deep grave. It lay there on the earth and she clambered down into the grave towards it. As she descended, the grave got deeper and deeper. Looking up she could see a small square of sky, and Riccardo, leaning down and calling to her, but he was so far away that his words couldn’t reach her. She finally reached her violin case and ran her hands over it, brushing away some earth. Then she opened it. Inside it was a dead baby, a wizened little premature thing. As she looked at it, she began to cry. It woke up and moved its wrinkled little arms, holding them out towards her. She looked up to call Riccardo, and saw another figure beside him. It was Madre. She called and called to them, but couldn’t hear their replies. Then Riccardo fell, or was pushed, and plummeted down towards her. She could see her mother’s face quite clearly, and she looked triumphant. Riccardo landed with a sickening crash on top of the baby in the violin case and she screamed and screamed…and woke up.
Her face was wet with tears. Chiara called her and asked, “Did it wake you too?
“What?”
It was. The thunder was incessant, and lightning flashed into the room continuously.
“Well it doesn’t matter now, does it? I mean you can’t do anything about it, so you might as well go back to sleep.”
“You don’t think it hit the house, do you?”
“I shouldn’t think so; there aren’t any trees near enough to it. Go to sleep.”
Ambra turned over as she spoke, and fell asleep again. Chiara got up and tried to peer through the slats outside the window, but could see only a wall of rain. She padded back to bed, but couldn’t sleep now. It was four o’clock, and she intended getting up at six, but she was too happy and excited to sleep. All the documents would be ready to bring to her mother within a week. She started planning her riding school in her mind, but fell asleep and carried on doing so in her dreams.
The next morning brought clear, clean, fresher air, and Chiara felt almost cold as she walked out of the house to go to the stables. She loved the early morning, and was impatient to ride. Ambra was sleeping soundly when she left. Chiara opened the window a little for her as the room was stifling. She went round to the back of the house and saw the tree that had crashed during the night. Ambra was right, it wasn’t near enough to fall on the house, but this huge cypress was so tall, that falling, it had reached the terrace wall, and the steps, making it impossible to go down them. She went back to the front of the house and took a side path. Riccardo would have to come up and move it first thing. He usually arrived at seven, so she’d get hold of him before he started on the vegetables. The whole garden looked ravaged, plants lay flattened, their delicate blooms smashed and pulped to a sodden browning mess. Twigs and even small branches had been ripped from trees and flung across the lawn. As she walked down through the orchard she saw figs burst open, their ripe, red innards exposed and already being greedily plundered by hornets, flies and fruit flies. There was an abundance of fallen apples below the apple trees, some of which had broken branches. There would be plenty of work today, She would probably have to give a hand herself, but for now, she would give herself up to enjoyment.
The Tuscan Mystery Trilogy Page 31
