‘But what about all the bad things that have happened? I wouldn’t be human if I wasn’t worried for her.’ Although, it dawned on me – at the speed of a racing slug – that ever since the tree came down, I was the dotty one.
He looked at me without saying anything but his eyes spoke loud enough to get through my thick skull.
‘The thing is, Lisa, we both know that if we tried hard enough we could get someone to replace Daniela. Exeter isn’t a small town, it’s a city. But we’ve made one mistake. Let’s not make another.’
‘But Mollie—’
‘Mollie is perfect. She’s one of us and we’ll all look after her. Curse or no curse. Let’s face it, Lisa, ’ he looked at me straight, with no lies or weirdness, ‘you, me and her… we’re practically a family.’
At that moment, I swear I heard from somewhere in another room the sound of a mammoth trumpeting. Perhaps that was why I found myself smiling; a curious sensation if you haven’t done it for a while.
‘You’re right,’ I said. ‘Of course, you are. I’ll tell her later.’ People talk about waves of relief washing over them but for me it was like standing on the prom and watching the shingle take away all the crap and rubbish that had built up on the shore. Not so much the wave but the washing bit. Cleansed. Yes, that’s what I felt.
I picked up the Gesualdo and put it face down at the bottom of the heap. ‘And you, my friend,’ I said to it, ‘are staying right there.’
‘Phew! Thank God for that.’ Jon jumped up and for the second time, gave me a big delicious hug and this one really did lift me off my feet. It didn’t last that long though. ‘Right,’ he said, putting me down. ‘I’m out of here. The ducks are calling.’
I could still hear the mammoth. ‘Bloody hell, we live in a menagerie.’
‘A what?’
‘Oh, nothing,’ I said, laughing. ‘It really doesn’t matter.’
Mum put her key in the lock at the precise moment we went out into the hall. Of course she did. Her face was a picture of trepidation when she saw us, but a quick glance from one to the other and she turned up her smile volume to maximum.
Jon extracted himself very promptly so I had to go through the full interrogation. In the end I couldn’t bear her ecstatic wittering any longer, and I decided to leave earlier than was necessary to fetch Mollie from school. It meant I could pop into the shop to tell Robert: a, I’d be back at work the following day and b, the good news about Mollie singing with us.
When I checked in my bag to see if I’d got my keys, I found the bundle of post. Out from the fliers fell a postcard of Buckingham Palace. Duncan had got as far as London.
Will be there for the concert.
You’ll be amazed.
Can’t wait!
Duncan
I frowned. He was a nice man, but I wish I knew what what was so amazing that he couldn’t wait.
The rest of the post I thought I’d look at later. I put the heap down on the hall table, and it was then that something amazing really did happen. I caught sight of a couple of letters – not even a whole word – on the frank of one of the envelopes, and they sent a huge shockwave through me. R D &
The hospital, and most probably the final result of my HIV test.
Mum was in the kitchen. I could hear her opening the cutlery drawer, putting on the kettle, doing ordinary things. She was humming.
I opened the door and went out. I made it down the stairs, out into the street and as far as the bench by the postbox at the end of the road. The rush of adrenalin whined in my ears and the world seem all too bright. I sat down and looked at the envelope, badly crumpled in the corner where I had been clutching it so tightly.
Open it. I told myself. Open it now.
Should I go home? I sat on the bench for quite a long time while the hem of my shirt soaked up the tears I shed. I’d not taken Mum’s advice; always carry a hankie or a tissue. A whole box might have done, I don’t know. Who can know what will be adequate for such situations?
Another amazing thing, the world can be turned upside down, or in my case, turned the right way up, in just a short sentence. The test was negative. I need not worry anymore.
Hence the soaked shirt. I hadn’t done up my coat and rather than soaking my sleeves with tears I wiped my eyes on the bottom of my shirt. I could have gone home and changed, but explanations would be required, I wouldn’t get to the shop to see Robert, and then I’d be late for Mollie.
I sat appreciating the traffic and marvelling at the fallen leaves skipping along the pavement in the breeze. The world was a good place after all. Jon and I were happy, Daniela had gone for good, Noteworthy was back on course. The concert would be brilliant and as for the curse … it was ridiculous.
A smidgen of unease muscled in on my euphoria. I stood up, tucked my damp shirt in, and began walking into town. There was no curse. I had imagined it. After all, this was the twenty-first century. If curses were real, then everyone would be casting spells and drinking love potions.
Even so, I thought, it was a good thing that the concert was soon and we’d get it over with. As for Jon’s musical, it was a nice idea but completely mis-guided. Performance was out of the question.
When I arrived at the shop and told Robert about Mollie taking Daniela’s place, he was surprised, but pleased. I knew Jon was pleased, and Sophie would be. I was pleased, everyone was pleased, so when I got to Mollie’s school I was completely confident that she would be pleased too.
Except she wasn’t. She was pleased to be asked, but no, she wouldn’t do it. Or rather, she would do it, but only on one condition.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Napoli 1591
In the morning, I sat for a while in the chapel, having told Sister Caterina that I wanted to think about the altar cloth. Certainly, I was keen to start. My fingers twitched as I imagined pulling the thread through the needle, how I would plot the pattern repeats, how in a thousand stitches, the Garden of Eden would take shape.
Salvo would want an answer.
The cloth wouldn’t be gaudy though. Unlike the show that my sewing achieved with my lady’s clothes of silk and brightly coloured velvet brocade, I wanted all sense of my endeavour to be hidden, so that only its beauty was remarked on. Perhaps I was influenced by the simplicity of the convent, although for some reason, into my mind came the memory of Signora Carlino and her collar that lay so perfectly flat.
What would I say to him?
How I had hankered after his mother’s skill. And how determined I had been. Disobeying my mother – when I remembered the day I went to market with old Francesca, my cheeks became hot with shame. But I had got what I wanted, for now I could sew a flat collar better than anyone, although it was a great pity that nobody wore flat collars any more.
Salvo – darling Salvo. I loved him so, but …
Sitting for so long without activity had made me cold. Outside I could hear two of the sisters sweeping the cloisters; they were laughing together although I could not hear their conversation.
I wished I had someone to talk to. Someone who might understand.
Father Strozzi took confession and while I knew I shouldn’t think of him as the man who leered at my lady, I couldn’t help it. What could I ask him about the act of love? Love. Even as I thought the word, I wondered at its meaning, for it seemed to me that with love came violence and fear. Did it make men mad? And women, come to that. I remembered my lady’s shivers of pleasure and how she toyed with death at every meeting with Fabrizio. I thought of Don Carlo’s need for the whip.
I didn’t think Sister Caterina would be able to help me. She had made her choice a long while ago.
My mother was far away and nothing would induce me to go to Gesualdo while Don Carlo was there, although Rosa said that he was definitely to marry a lady from Ferrara. Heaven help her, I thought. She probably has no choice in the matter. Donna Maria never had any choice about her husbands and had been married at thirteen. Thirteen – at that age, I was st
ill feeding the chickens and wishing they were peacocks.
As I left the chapel I looked back over my shoulder at the altar, and imagined it draped in my cloth of fine white linen. The embroidery would be in silk thread the colour of wine. To remind us of the blood of Christ, Sister Caterina said, although I preferred thinking of the wine. I would appliqué a border possibly across the whole in thin strips ... or maybe I would keep the body plain but have a weft cut fringe.
Unlike Donna Maria, I did have a choice.
The wind blew straight from the sea and forced its way round every pleat and fold.
‘It’s far too cold for a walk, Silvia,’ Salvo said when I met him on the quayside. ‘Besides,’ he hesitated, ‘my uncle has invited his colleagues and their families for a party this afternoon. There is to be dancing. Would you like that?’
‘Dancing?’ I hardly knew whether I liked it or not.
‘Yes, wouldn’t you like to dance with me?’ And before I could draw breath, he had picked me up and swung me right round. When I landed on my feet, he wouldn’t let go.
‘But I can’t let you go,’ he said, ‘look.’ He pretended that we were indeed stuck together. Pushing me a little and then falling towards me. ‘See?’
‘I do see,’ I said, laughing with him. ‘How terrible! What is to be done?’
‘Why, I believe the key may well be a kiss,’ he said, frowning. ‘Shall we try it and find out?’
What could I say?
At first, his lips brushed lightly over mine. But it wasn’t enough and not just for him. Once again he wrapped me in his cloak. The thrill of his nearness and warm breath was enough to unlock any resistance I might have felt. My lips parted. At once, Salvo pulled me closer and his kisses became deeper and more urgent until, had he let me go suddenly, I would have fallen straight to the ground.
A shout of laughter and a lewd remark from a passer-by intruded on our little world. I opened my eyes and found Salvo looking down at me; the familiar twinkle in his eyes so close and much brighter than I had ever seen before. My heart was beating as rapidly as if I had run up a mountain. In fact, I was so overwhelmed with powerful sensations all over, that I hardly recognised my body as my own.
‘Come, Silvia,’ Salvo said, drawing away. ‘Let’s go. I’m looking forward to dancing with you. Do you know the sfessania?’
‘No.’ I shook my head vigorously. ‘Please don’t ask me to dance. I learnt the saltarello as a child but I haven’t danced it since.’ Sometimes the servants at San Severo would hold dances in the kitchens or the courtyard when Don Carlo was away, but Donna Maria always kept me with her.
‘I’m sure there will be lots of saltarellos this afternoon. Everyone knows that.’
By the time we arrived the music and dancing had already started, but Giovanni Carlino, Salvo’s uncle, greeted us effusively.
‘Here you are at last, Silvia,’ he said. ‘I was hoping that my nephew wasn’t going to persuade you to keep away. You are quite right, Salvo – she is a lot prettier than most.’
Then he put an arm round my shoulder and gave me a kiss. I flustered an answer, amazed by such audacity, but when he drew back there was nothing in his expression but friendly warmth.
I hadn’t expected such a wealthy household. Obviously it wasn’t as grand as San Severo Palazzo, but the sala was very spacious and with the tables cleared to one side there was just room enough for six couples, as long as the musicians stayed squashed in the corner. Salvo was right. The steps of the saltarello came back to me with more ease than I expected.
Everyone knew Salvo and as we danced, I received nods and smiles from them all. Who would not be flattered? Never in my life had I received such attention from so many! And while I accepted a little wine to quench my thirst, it wasn’t the cause of my intoxication.
I did refuse to dance the sfessania. When the musicians struck up such a quick and lively rhythm, I knew I would be falling over in no time if I’d tried. Salvo looked disappointed so I shooed him away to find another partner, and couldn’t help smiling when a small crowd formed the moment he stepped away from me.
The music made not tapping a foot impossible but I was glad of a seat, especially as it meant I could watch Salvo from a little distance. Everyone had their eyes on him. He was, without doubt, the handsomest man there, and we were all mesmerised by his dancing of the sfessania. I decided it was a good thing that he wasn’t as skinny as he used to be. It suited him as a boy, but a man needed dignity and a little flesh on his bones.
His doublet was very fine and I wondered who had made it. After a little while, I wondered who had taught him the sfessania too.
When the dancing was done, the tables were put back out and two serving girls brought food for us all. Much to my amazement there were forks on the trays. I couldn’t help being reminded of San Severo then. I wonder what my lady would have said, if she knew I was a guest at such a party. My lady … in spite of the lively music, I couldn’t help sighing at the thought of her and then into my head came the dream I had of us both looking in the mirror before … before …
‘Silvia, why so sad all of a sudden?’ Salvo leant towards me and beneath the table I felt his hand on my knee. The shock of his touch made me jump and he laughed. Perhaps I had had more wine than I thought for when I turned to face him, it was Fabrizio’s face I saw. I did not jump then, but almost fainted and poor Salvo looked very worried.
‘What is it?’ he said. ‘Are you ill?’
‘No, no.’ I managed to smile. ‘I’m all right.’
‘Are you sure? We could go outside.’
‘No, there’s no need.’
There was no need, I told myself firmly. The Duke was dead and buried. It was silly imaginings, the result of too much wine and dancing.
We were both distracted by a huge cheer from the other end of the sala. Dessert was arriving, a biancomangiare so huge I thought it would wobble off the dish. The mere sight of it made me feel considerably better, and when everybody laughed at the rude noise it made as the serving spoon scooped out the portions, I couldn’t help joining in.
Sitting so close to the host, we were served quite quickly. The spoon was almost in my mouth when Signor Pace stood up and called for silence. Out of politeness I put my spoon back down, and hoped his speech would not be as long as one of Don Carlo’s lute solos.
There was much thanking of people I didn’t know and clapping of hands.
‘And now, my good friends,’ Signor Pace said, ‘let me show you the source of our good fortune today.’ He held up something covered in a velvet cloth. ‘Silvia!’ he said, making me half jump out of my skin and setting the biancomangiare all a-quiver. ‘Please do me the honour of revealing our latest publication.’
There was considerable clapping when I pulled the corner of the velvet and it tumbled away. Signor Pace held up a large volume. The cover was tooled in dark red leather and embossed in gold with the name of Luca Marenzio.
‘Thanks to the talent and charm of Salvo here, Signor Marenzio has allowed the printing of this book for general sale at the price of eight lire.’
There was a general murmur of surprise from the company. That was a lot of money.
‘And already we have orders for …’ Signor Pace paused and beckoned us to guess. ‘Six? Ten?’
Everyone shook their heads. I did not have a number in my head at all. How many people could afford to pay so much?
‘Thirty twoooo! And that is before they have even seen it.’ He opened the volume and laid it on the table out of the way of the biancomangiare. Salvo’s frontispiece brought gasps of pleasure from those who could see it, and soon everyone was crowding round.
I sat back while Salvo was being congratulated and stole a mouthful of pudding. Never had I tasted such an excellent dessert. Smooth, creamy and sweet with honey, I went to take a second mouthful, but the speech wasn’t over, so I laid my spoon down once again.
‘We should all congratulate ourselves,’ said Signor Pace. ‘For, te
n, twenty years ago, who could have imagined that we should receive commissions from so far away? At last we can show those in Venezia and Firenze a thing or two.’ Everyone laughed at this. ‘And looking to the future, who knows what young Salvo will bring back from his next trip when he goes to the royal court in Denmark? He has told me that Herr Borchgrevinck, the court organist there, is especially keen for him to go.’
My ears stumbled over the last bit. The name sounded like a sudden coughing fit and meant nothing to me, but I had heard of Denmark. I wasn’t exactly sure where it was, but did know it was a long way away. If Salvo was going there, then I wouldn’t see him for a very long time.
Why hadn’t he told me? In a daze I picked up the spoonful of biancomangiare and put it in my mouth, but it tasted too sweet, too cloying. Everything about it was wrong.
Signor Pace signalled to the musicians to start again. Straight away Salvo took my hand and held it to his lips.
‘Forgive me, Silvia. I was going to tell you.’
‘Oh?’ I said. ‘When exactly? The day before you left?’ I stood up, then swayed, feeling muzzy and overwhelmed. ‘I think perhaps I do need to go outside after all.’
My manners did not desert me and I thanked Signor Pace as quickly as I could without appearing rude. Whether he noticed the glaze of tears in my eyes, I don’t know. There isn’t a great deal of difference to be seen between tears of pain and those of too much wine.
Salvo followed me out of the sala but then stood between me and the door. ‘Please, Silvia. Let me explain.’ A maid was lurking behind a pillar and by her expression, I knew she was after some gossip. With a stare from me, she slid away, no doubt to listen from somewhere more discreet.
I spoke quietly, but my voice quivered with anger. ‘What is there to explain?’
‘It’s too good an opportunity for me to refuse. I might even meet the King of Denmark.’
Secret of the Song Page 24
