I felt horrid though. Slumped at the bottom of the self-esteem ladder with a bad head, estranged from my daughter and my… my friend, Jon, I had to endure listening to my mother’s coy, one-sided wittering with Charles. It was not the best time to take the last call.
‘Lisa?’ The voice on my mobile was familiar but I couldn’t place it immediately.
‘Yes?’
‘It’s Daniela.’
‘Oh?’ Yes, of course it was. The sofa was the nearest thing to sit on, but I perched on the edge. There was nothing comfortable about a call from Daniela.
‘You are home?’
‘Yes, thank you. You survived then?’ I felt nervous suddenly. Why was she ringing? I was pretty damn sure it wouldn’t be to enquire about my health.
‘Yes, I am well.’
‘That’s good.’ I meant what I said. Although she was hardly my favourite person, I wouldn’t wish her any harm.
‘I have some news, Lisa.’ My anxiety ratcheted upwards. Her voice always sounded cool but there was an edge to it I hadn’t heard before, a sort of vibrato that meant either the demise of someone close or very good news indeed. Winning the lottery, passing an exam, or perhaps going public about a new relationship.
‘Oh?’
‘Can I come and see you in the morning?’
No, I thought. But I couldn’t think of an excuse fast enough, especially as I’d just told her I was all right. ‘Of course. You know where I live, don’t you?’ I wondered if her command of English was good enough to appreciate my heavy irony. Actually irony didn’t do it. Lead-ery more like.
It was getting close to Mollie’s bedtime, so I sent her an email wishing her goodnight. Nothing came back.
At breakfast next morning, I told Mum she had to go out. She grumbled and looked at the clock, saying that the twenty-four hours wasn’t up. But as I pointed out, I wouldn’t be alone.
‘You will tell her, won’t you?’ she said, while I patted flat the hood of her new coat. We were looking at each other in the mirror by the front door. In spite of the bruise, a purple splodge that was making its slow way down my forehead, I could see the resemblance between us more clearly than ever before. I could even imagine wearing her coat. It’s Per Una and a sort of sexy parka. God … was I so middle-aged?
‘Tell her what?’
‘That he’s yours.’
‘For heaven’s sake, Mum.’
Sneery demon popped up. Fat chance you’ve got.
I imagined that Daniela would look exactly the same whether she was twenty or fifty. A crow might land but I doubted if its feet would make any kind of impact round her eyes. I imagined her skin made of the same bronze as its colour, and thought of those Renaissance sculptors and their voluptuous goddesses. And gods too. Perhaps early Briton women were secretly pleased when the Romans invaded.
She sat on the sofa and I perched on the keyboard stool, which gave me an altitude advantage of several crucial inches. My stomach rumbled. I hadn’t fancied Coco Pops or Weetabix for breakfast and it was complaining about my drinking a third cup of coffee with nothing to soak it up.
‘I don’t think you will like what I have to say,’ she said, ‘but I must tell you.’
‘Okay,’ I said. ‘Go on then.’
‘I’ve been asked to sing at La Scala.’
I let the words roll about in my head. They performed something like an impromptu maracas solo. Interesting but lacking any depth or meaning. So, she’d been asked to go back to La Scala. In Milan. I quite liked the sound of that.
‘Didn’t you used to sing there?’
‘I had an audition before I came to England last year.’
Her face acquired a whole new expression. Instead of the usual lush and smiley confidence, two deep frown marks dented her forehead. She looked almost pale. I didn’t take in what the transformation meant.
‘Last year?’
‘I was put on the reserve list.’
‘But didn’t you say you—’
She interrupted me. ‘I lied.’
‘Oh …’ I said, carefully. ‘I see.’ So that was it. She was embarrassed. Ashamed even. Fancy that. She lied.
‘That is why I left Italy. Everybody thought I would get in and I did not.’ She shook her head. ‘I was humiliated at being refused and when I came to England, I thought, why should I tell anyone? What does it matter to them?’ She flicked the air. ‘But now I discover they want me after all.’
I was hearing the words, but mostly I was reacting badly to her being quite so dismissive of the population of England. Why was she telling me this?
‘Lucky you,’ I said.
‘Yes, it is. But …’ she hesitated.
The room was quiet. Be a stone, I told myself. Don’t react.
‘I have to go back right now, otherwise they will ask someone else who is on the reserve list.’
Now. She had to go right now. The significance hit me with a force that jerked half of my coffee up and over the top of the mug straight onto my lap.
‘Now?’ I said, mopping it up with the bottom of my jumper and making a worse mess. ‘When’s now?’
‘The day after tomorrow. They start rehearsals for Tosca then.’
‘But … but you aren’t serious, surely?’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, not looking at me. ‘I thought you wouldn’t be happy.’
‘Happy? The concert’s the week after next. You can’t let us down like this. It’s … it’s …’ I couldn’t think of a word that would do. That would express how outraged I felt. ‘It’s outrageous! Daniela, you can’t go now.’
‘I am sorry.’
She shifted to the edge of the sofa so all her weight was on the balls of her feet, ready for flight, although she wouldn’t get far in those heels. I thought of how much Mollie would like the silver bows – but only for a millisecond, because crashing down behind that was a great cascade of thoughts about what a shitty thing it was to drop us in the … in the total, utter shit like that. It was the most unprofessional thing anyone could do! And she was swanning off to La-bloody-Scala …
‘How could you?’ I said, spluttering. ‘What the hell are we supposed to do now?’
‘I have told Jon,’ she said, in a sort of meekly penitent voice, as if that was supposed to make me feel somehow better. ‘And he was cross too but we talked and he thought it best.’
‘He thought it best?’ I said, slowly. ‘Well, there’s a thing. Why am I not surprised?’
She looked at me and frowned. ‘Surprised?’
‘Yes, surprised,’ I said, aware that sarcasm didn’t suit me. ‘You’ve been sucking up to Jon ever since the first time you met.’
‘But—’
‘I’ve seen how you give him the eye, don’t deny it.’ I didn’t give her the chance. ‘And you’ve managed to wheedle Mollie over to your side.’
‘Wheedle …’ she said to herself, as if searching through her English/Italian dictionary. She shook her head. ‘What is that?’
‘Talked her round. Persuaded. Inveigled.’ Ha! I doubt she knew that word either. She looked blank, face like a mask. ‘Yes,’ I went on, my voice trembling, ‘you’ve lured them both right over to the Dark Side!’
There was a silence while we both took this in. Okay, you’re sounding deranged now, I told myself. My head felt sore again and it wasn’t helped by my whacking the bruise when I put my hand up to sweep the hair out of my eyes. I stood up and Daniela sprang up too. Bloody hell, she was loads taller than me. The best I could do was fold my arms and sniff. Pathetic.
‘I’m sure you will find someone to sing the part,’ she said, gesturing towards the music heap on the table. ‘After all, Noteworthy is very good.’
‘Thank you very much,’ I said, with the same tart sarcasm as before. ‘If we’d known someone else, we would have asked them.’
Now I was being mean, but it was that or weeping, and I couldn’t bear the humiliation of tears.
‘Listen, Lisa,’ she said. ‘I unders
tand how you feel but Jon thought—’
I snorted. Horribly pig-like.
Daniela stood firm. In fact, she put her hand on my arm and gripped it rather tightly. I got a nose-full of hefty perfume. ‘Jon thought,’ she hesitated only for a nanosecond, ‘that Mollie should sing my part.’
‘Mollie?’ Had I heard right?
‘Yes, Mollie. She could certainly do it. And as Jon …’ she glanced at me, probably in fear of a slap. ‘As Jon said, her voice has a similar quality to yours and therefore would match very well. Perhaps even better than mine. Although of course, my voice is—’
‘Mollie?’ I was staggered; more of a hyena than a pig now.
‘Yes, of course. Why not? We thought it a good idea.’
I sat back down, weak suddenly. ‘Have you said anything to her?’
‘No. Jon thought you—’
‘Okay, I can imagine what Jon thought.’ But could I? I was beginning to think I didn’t know anything anymore.
Daniela headed for the door. Once we’d said goodbye, which I managed very civilly, I went into my bedroom and lay down. The black web of the frontispiece appeared once again when I shut my eyes, so I opened them and stared at the ceiling.
Oh, piss off then, Daniela, I thought. I can’t say I’m sorry you’re going.
Sneery Demon snorted. But she’s dropped you well in it, hasn’t she?
I sniffed irritably. Yes, she had.
Perhaps it would be best to cancel the concert altogether.
Perhaps it would.
Admit defeat.
That possibility swelled my mind as I imagined the outcome of cancelling. I thought of the others: Sophie, Robert, Jon and finally, Mollie. What would their reactions be?
Midday. The clock of St Mary Steps announced the hour. The bell has more of a clank than a clang, and it jarred me into a new line of thinking.
I sat up and swung my feet down to the floor. If I left straight away, I’d get there in time. The fact that I wasn’t expected wouldn’t matter. If there was a decision to be made, then best get on with it.
Chapter Thirty
Napoli 1591
‘Ow …’ I rubbed my knee where it had struck the ground with considerable force. ‘You should be more care—’
‘Silvia!’
‘Oh!’
He was wearing a magnificent cloak. Dark green with a silk lining the colour of limes, and trimmed with rabbit fur all the way round. All that I took in with a glance. For it was the merry twinkle in his eyes that really caught me, just as it had all those years ago.
‘Well, come on then,’ he said, helping me up. ‘You can’t sit there all day long.’
‘Salvo Carlino!’ I said, grimacing with pain. ‘You should look where you’re going.’
‘Me? Why, I couldn’t avoid you. Who’s that hiding away and looking so suspicious? I thought. They must have done something very bad.’ He was laughing at me.
‘Why just you stop that!’ I said, frowning. I straightened up and put my shawl to rights. ‘For I am very cross with you and won’t be teased.’
‘Cross with me? But why?’
‘Because I have not heard a single word from you in all these months.’
‘But—’
‘And especially after… after… all that’s happened.’
Then he saw that I was truly upset and his expression changed at once to concern. ‘Silvia,’ he said, taking my arm and stroking my hand. ‘I was so very happy to see your lovely face just now, and happy that I hadn’t missed you, for I was on my way to the palazzo.’
I shook my head. ‘But I am not at the palazzo now,’ I said, pulling him along the street. ‘Haven’t you heard what happened?’
‘Happened? No? I arrived very late last night. What’s happened?’
Was it my doom to keep reliving the horror over and over? The memory drenched me from top to toe and all my earlier joy ran along the gutter and joined the rubbish making its way down to the sea. That Salvo had not sent word to me had bruised me badly, but I had over-laid the pain of it with something like a bandage made, not of soft cloth, but of thick linen heavily starched. It could stand up by itself if need be, much like a soldier’s armoured breastplate. Strong enough to protect the heart.
‘Oh, Salvo,’ I said, pulling away from him so I could hide my face beneath the shawl again. ‘I can hardly bear to tell you and certainly cannot so near to where it happened. Please,’ I looked over my shoulder expecting to see Don Carlo’s face appear at every window. ‘Let’s go away from here. We’ll go to the harbour. Maybe the breeze from the sea will blow away my fears.’
‘Fears, Silvia? What do you have to fear?’
I didn’t answer but walked quickly away, ignoring his pestering questions. Soon we were both out of breath, but rounding the last corner, I stopped still. The bay spread before us and the sea glistened in the morning sun. The shock of its sudden brightness after the dark streets hurt my eyes and I put my hand up to shield them.
‘Well?’ said Salvo. ‘Here we are. Are you going to tell me now?’
To the accompaniment of screeching gulls, I began. Fishermen interrupted, beseeching us to buy their various catches, each better than their neighbours. I stopped to admire the crabs and lobsters, glad to be taken away from my story. The fish I wasn’t so keen on though. Their eyes stared at me, pale and shiny, and just as in the windows of San Severo Palazzo, I saw Don Carlo in every one.
Do all stories change when told repeatedly? An entertainer might embellish to make his audience laugh or if he wished to scare them half to death, but I kept such embroidery for cloth. My tale needed none of it. In fact, for some reason, there were things I didn’t tell Salvo. I didn’t tell him about the wounds on the bodies, or how scared I’d been of the night demon, but why did I not mention that Don Fabrizio was wearing my lady’s nightdress when it had seemed so important that Master Sanchez should know?
Eventually, I neared the end and told him how I’d gathered all my belongings together and fled to the convent once my lady and the Duke had been taken away. I was reminded that I’d met Rosa on the stairs carrying a pitcher and scrubbing brush. Nothing was said, even though we both stopped. A nod was enough and an understanding passed between us. The world had grown far more fearful as a result of the previous night.
‘Oh my dearest,’ Salvo almost moaned as he took my hand and kissed it. ‘My sweetheart. I wish I had not been away so long. My poor love.’ His face was grey with worry and sorrow.
‘I am not so poor now, Salvo,’ I said, managing a smile. ‘The sisters have been very kind to me and I like it at the convent. Besides …’ I was about to tell him about the altar cloth but hesitated. The conversation I had with Sister Caterina in the garden came back to me. Salvo and I had an understanding. Didn’t we? If we were to marry, what then? This little bit of freedom would disappear.
‘Besides?’
‘Oh, nothing.’ I lied, pointing towards a woman selling dried peaches and apricots. ‘Look, they must be worth the eating.’
We sat on a wall further along and beyond the smell of fish. The sweetness of the fruit exploded in my mouth and I felt better.
‘It’s a good thing that Don Carlo is not here,’ said Salvo, his voice almost like the fearsome growl of the gate dog at Castle Gesualdo. ‘I wonder how he would like to have a halberd pointed at his throat.’
I was shocked. ‘No, Salvo! Don’t say such a thing. It was you that told me we were vulnerable to the vagaries of the wealthy. I remember you saying exactly that. Don Carlo will not be punished, the Viceroy has said as much, but you would be punished … horribly.’ I shuddered. ‘You’d probably be han—’
‘Yes! Yes, you’re right. Of course you are. But that doesn’t stop me thinking it. Curse the man.’
We finished the fruits in silence but I barely tasted them, my own mind too full of ghastly thoughts.
‘Besides,’ I said, offering Salvo an escape. ‘I’ve heard that the Carafas wanted revenge. That’s
why Don Carlo went to Gesualdo.’
‘Well, I hope they get their revenge, and if not, then I hope Don Carlo remains a prisoner in his castle for ever and ever.’
I shook my head, gloomily. ‘I don’t think there’s much chance of that. I’ve also heard that he is to marry again.’
Rosa was my source of information. She came to the convent from time to time with left over offerings from cook or old cloth that the sisters would re-make but I didn’t want to think about Don Carlo or Gesualdo any more.
‘Tell me about your travels, Salvo,’ I said. ‘Where have you been all this time?’ I fingered the fur on his cloak. ‘And where did you get this finery? Why, it’s nearly as good as I could do.’
He grasped my hand and wouldn’t let it go. ‘Surely not,’ he said, and then he kissed the ends of my fingers in turn. My heart began to skip. I did love him. There was no doubt in my mind, and every part of my body said so too.
‘Now you stop that,’ I said, pulling away rather half-heartedly. ‘I won’t have everyone thinking I behave badly.’
‘Who gives a fig, Silvia? You’re my girl. You know that.’
I should have been overjoyed to hear him say so but something gnawed away at my heart. Why could I not feel entirely happy?
‘So?’ I said, trying to distract myself from such thoughts. ‘Where have you been then? Did Signor Marenzio like your frontispiece?’
‘Like it?’ Salvo looked coy but only for a moment. He jumped down from the wall and turned to me, laughing. ‘He loved it! That’s why I’ve been away so long. He wanted to show it off to all his friends and let me tell you, Silvia, Luca Marenzio has a great many friends in a great many places. I’ve been to Rome and Florence and …’ he counted the places on his fingers ‘… and Ferrara and Venice and I’ve met people from all over Europe, Silvia … Denmark, even as far away as England!’
I was very impressed. But this was Salvo I was talking to.
‘Oh, England,’ I said, waving my hand as if to swipe away a wasp. ‘I know all about England. They have a Queen there who tells everyone what to do.’ The truth was that Don Carlo had once invited a trio of musicians from England to San Severo, and they’d told me about Queen Elizabeth. They had been nice enough if rather too pink in the skin for my liking.
Secret of the Song Page 22
