by Karen Moore
“From what I’ve seen on the news, the situation certainly seems to be getting worse,” Hanna remarked. “And no-one seems to have a grip on it – the politicians, the charities, they all seem powerless.”
“It’s not for want of trying, but there are vested interests out there. Obviously, it’s of interest to the Sicilian media who cover it from a news angle, but my paper’s adopting a more investigative stance and is committed to looking at the root cause. We’ve been working with the police for some time and pooling information to try to get to the bottom of who’s behind it, with a view to cracking down on it once and for all. At least, the Sicilian connection, that is.”
“And how does this affect me? Why are you telling me this?” asked Hanna, trying to keep the alarm out of her voice.
Sergio shifted uncomfortably on his chair before responding. “Well, a number of our leads suggest that Luciano’s brother may be connected or tied up in it in some way. It may even extend to the whole family. I just wanted to warn you to be on your guard.”
“What? Are you accusing me of getting myself involved with a people trafficker?” asked Hanna indignantly, her eyes flashing angrily and her cheeks burning. “What do you take me for?”
“No, it’s just that… Well, sometimes love is blind. People are often led by their heart rather than their head. I wasn’t suggesting that you’re mixed up in this, but you might know something unwittingly.”
“By association, you’re suggesting exactly that. I can assure you that I have no reason to suspect that Luciano’s family is involved in anything of the sort. They seem like a family with a perfectly respectable business. What makes you think they might be?” she asked, her heart thumping and goose bumps crawling up her arms.
“We’ve a number of leads that suggest a small group of influential individuals are behind the Sicilian operation,” said Sergio. “We’re looking into people who have lucrative business interests or positions of power on the island. It could be that some people are involved in some way without even realising it.”
“You’d have to be pretty stupid not to realise—” Hanna began.
“Listen, Hanna,” said Sergio, impatiently. “We’ve been dealing with this sort of thing in Sicily for centuries and have never managed to wipe it out. Things have improved in recent years, but corruption and crime are still rife. This is merely a new channel that’s being exploited for all its worth by the unscrupulous in our society. Our newspaper is determined to help smash the networks behind this, once and for all.”
“And how do you think I can help?” she asked cautiously.
“I don’t want to compromise you or put you in any danger, but it’d be useful if you could let me know if anything strikes you as suspicious or strange.”
“I think you’re mistaken. I’ve never noticed anything that’s given me any reason for concern, and I’ve never been treated with anything but respect by both Luciano and his family.”
“But in business, they might be different,” said Sergio. “These connections are passed down through the generations. For some people here, it’s their way of life – they’ve never known anything else but they’re secretive about their dealings. I just wanted to let you know and warn you to be on your guard.”
“Thanks, I appreciate that,” said Hanna, still shaken and reeling from this insinuation.
“If you ever need to contact me,” he added, “call my mobile, as my office phone’s probably being monitored.”
Hanna shivered to think that criminal activity could be so near to home. Luciano couldn’t be implicated in anything so devastating and disastrous, could he? She suddenly remembered the phone calls at all hours of the day and night, muffled conversations, the frantic meetings and last-minute business trips. The implications of Sergio’s words began to sink in, shattering Hanna’s idyllic view of island life. Although she had to accept that this trafficking was going on, she had no doubt that Sergio’s fears were unfounded. Luciano and his family couldn’t possibly be mixed up in such a horrific business.
Chapter Seventeen
North Wales, Friday 10th November, 2017
While Eva was taking a nap, Hanna took the opportunity to call Ceri. Several days had passed since they’d last spoken, as they’d agreed not to contact each other too often. Each time they spoke, Hanna was almost fearful of what she might hear.
“There’s not much news, really,” said Ceri, picking up on the first ring. “It’s all gone relatively quiet, apart from all the migrants who keep arriving in droves. Sergio says the investigations are ongoing but every time there’s a lead and someone’s taken in for questioning, some hot-shot lawyer steps in to make sure they don’t say more than they should. Everyone’s hoping for a major breakthrough but it seems a long way off…” Her voice sounded tired and tense.
“And what about Luciano?” Hanna hardly dared ask.
“Well, the word is that he’s pretty pissed off and determined to find you at all costs. Publicly, he’s making out that it was all planned and you’re spending some time with your family. People aren’t to know that you haven’t got any, apart from us. Otherwise, it would be too much of a brutta figura, a loss of face, for someone in his position. Apparently, he thinks you’ve managed…” Ceri’s words faded and broke up as the line faltered.
“What was that? I lost you for a minute.” Hanna wondered fleetingly if anyone could be monitoring their conversation.
“Sergio’s heard through one of his contacts that Luciano thinks you’ve managed to get off the island somehow but are unlikely to be on the mainland, otherwise his associates would’ve picked it up by now,” responded Ceri. “He’s bound to think that you’d go back to the UK although he knows you haven’t got any family or support network there.”
“I’m still afraid he’ll come after me.”
“Well, he hasn’t got the contacts there, and anyway, where would he start?”
“Yes, but he’s not going to give up lightly, is he? I can’t live under the radar forever.”
“You won’t have to. Sergio’s father reckons that the net’s tightening. It’s just a matter of time…”
A knot formed in Hanna’s stomach as she realised she could bring this whole business to a swift conclusion if she wanted. But at what cost? she wondered.
“How are you both, anyway? Hope Rhys is looking after you okay?”
Hanna gulped back the lump in her throat.
“We’re both fine, thanks. Eva’s treating it like a big adventure, but she misses her dad. Rhys has been great, really helpful. We couldn’t have done it without you – we owe both of you so much.” Tears welled in her eyes as she struggled with her words. “I’d better go, I’ve kept you long enough. I’ll have Wi-Fi at the cottage soon, so we’ll be able to e-mail rather than rely on mobiles.”
“Okay. Well, take care and be careful. I’ll let you know if there’s any news.”
“Will do, and you, too. Speak to you soon.”
Hanna sank back on the sofa. Once again, she wondered what she should do. It felt as if she was sitting on a time bomb that she alone could activate, but it was difficult to imagine the scale of its impact. She wasn’t just worried for herself and Eva, but for Ceri and Sergio and their families and colleagues and many others who’d be caught up in the crossfire. The thought of the numerous victims past and present was a dilemma; the longer she left it, the more victims would fall into the clutches of the traffickers.
How could she have been so stupid not to realise what was happening and let herself get tangled up in all of this? She felt as if she’d aged ten years or more in the last twelve months. Was speaking up too risky? And if she did, would it be traced back to her? She was torn, unsure of which direction to take. It was difficult to know what to do for the best and she couldn’t really discuss it with anyone. She needed more time to think.
The trees murmured and danced in the brisk breeze as Hanna and Eva made their way up the stony track to their neighbours’ cottage. They’d
decided to walk as it was a bright sunny day, but the temperature remained low and Hanna was glad she’d insisted on several warm layers of clothing. Nerys had invited them over for the afternoon; Lars was away on business.
Eva skipped along, jumping over the puddles and keeping up an incessant mumbled monologue, a jumble of English and Italian words that Hanna couldn’t quite make out.
“Who are you talking to, Eva?” she asked, with a wry smile.
“Orsina, of course,” said Eva, pointing to the battered old teddy peeping out of her rucksack. “I’m teaching her English. She’s a bit slow – but she is very old.”
Eva was right: Orsina was getting on in years. She’d been Hanna’s favourite teddy as a child, but Eva had taken to her and given her a new name. Hanna laughed at her daughter’s antics, realising how bright she was and how quickly she was developing. She was ready for nursery now; it would be good for her to mix with other children. Hanna was due to start her new job the following week and had made arrangements for the nursery to look after Eva when she was in the office.
Apart from Eva’s constant chatter, the only other sounds were the shrill chirping of birds and the faint bleating of sheep on the upper slopes of the valley. It was peaceful and quiet and seemed a million miles away from the cares of the outside world. If only…
The sight of her neighbour’s stone cottage up ahead jolted her back to reality. Something’s wrong, it’s much too quiet, she thought. To her dismay, she suddenly realised why: she was alone. Eva was nowhere to be seen. Panic gripped her. She looked around frantically but there was no sign of her daughter.
“Eva, dove sei? Where are you?” she called out, her voice rising to a fever pitch. The only response was a slight mocking echo of her own voice.
Her heart thumping, she tried to focus. Where could she be? What could have happened in such a short space of time? She cursed herself for being so wrapped up in her own thoughts. Either Eva had wandered off, in which case she would probably be still in view, or she’d fallen behind. Or else… Anything else was too painful even to contemplate.
Hanna decided to retrace her steps towards the stone bridge. As she drew nearer, a faint cry could be heard, and a familiar figure lying in a crumpled heap came into view. The cries turned into wails as Hanna ran over and knelt down beside her daughter. The wails subsided, only to be replaced by wracking sobs as Eva rocked to and fro, clutching her knee.
“Whatever’s happened? Are you hurt? Here, let me have a look at your knee.”
Between sobs, Eva managed to explain as best she could, “I fell… nell’acqua, in the water… trying to save Orsina.” She pointed to her beloved teddy whose fur was matted with mud and barely recognisable. “Mi sono sbucciata il ginocchio… my knee, I’ve hurt my knee.” Eva’s thick tights were soaking wet and a large hole had appeared in one knee, revealing a bloody gash.
“There, there,” said Hanna, soothingly. “Niente di serio… it’s only a scratch, no harm done.” She planted a series of kisses on Eva’s poorly knee.
“Don’t do that, it hurts,” Eva said crossly and began to wail again. Hanna felt sure she was overdoing it but didn’t want to take any risks.
“OK, I’ll call Auntie Nerys and get her to come and pick us up. We’ll soon get you cleaned up and put a nice big bandage on your knee.”
Hanna tried to have another look at the wound, but the toddler wasn’t having any of it and wouldn’t let her near her. “I don’t want you. You hurt me. I want Babbo… Daddy. Where is he? I want to see him now!” The tears were fast turning into a tantrum and she started to stamp her feet, despite her injury.
Hurt at the way the youngster had turned against her, Hanna rummaged through the contents of her bag until she found her phone. She quickly punched in the number.
“Hi, Nerys, it’s me, Hanna. We’re just down the road from you but Eva’s taken a tumble and has hurt her knee. You couldn’t come and pick us up, could you? I don’t think she’ll be able to walk and it’s too far to carry her…”
“Is she okay? She’s making a lot of noise.”
“She’ll be fine, it’s only a flesh wound. You know how kids can be…”
“I’ll take your word for it. Just hang on, I’ll be right over.”
Hanna waited for Eva to calm down a little before she went over and put her arms around her.
“You’ll be fine, you’ll see. We’ll get you cleaned up and later, if you’re feeling better, you can have some chocolate buttons or an ice cream. How does that sound?”
That did the trick, and the tantrum vanished almost immediately.
“Va bene, Mammina, I’ll be a good girl now,” Eva smiled weakly as if to apologise, her face sombre and streaked with tears.
It only took a few minutes for Nerys to reach them in the 4x4. Relieved, Hanna picked Eva up and carried her over to the back seat of the car. She glanced at the cut knee as she did so. She was sure it was only a minor wound that could be sorted out quickly without any need for a doctor or hospital. But, she chastised herself, I really need to be more careful and keep a close eye on her in future.
Chapter Eighteen
Sicily, Wednesday 25th December, 2013
As soon as she stepped into the car, Hanna realised her mistake. Her head was swimming and her stomach was doing its own curious brand of gymnastics. She’d insisted that they should accept the invitation from Luciano’s family: it was Christmas Day after all, and it was expected. Now in her second month of pregnancy, her appetite had waned and what little she did eat, she struggled to keep down.
Driving along the winding roads up to Luciano’s family home only added to her misery. They had to stop several times en route so she could throw up. She felt light-headed and would have done anything to lie down.
“Are you sure about this? We can always turn back. I’ll explain things to the family – they’ll understand,” said Luciano, looking concerned.
“No, I’ll be fine later. It’s usually just a morning thing. Besides, we want to tell them our news.”
She took a swig of water from a small bottle and her stomach seemed to settle momentarily. But by the time they pulled up outside the house, she felt weak and rooted to the seat, unable to move.
Luciano rushed round to the passenger door to help her out. Hearing the car arrive, his mother, Arazia, opened the front door and let out a squeal of alarm when she saw them.
“What’s happened, what’s wrong with Hanna? Is she ill?”
“I’m fine, just a little…” Hanna wrestled to find a suitable response.
“You don’t look at all fine,” interrupted Arazia. “You’re as white as a sheet and can hardly move. What’s going on?”
“Don’t fuss, Mamma. I’ll explain later,” said Luciano. “Help me get her into the house.”
Hanna felt herself supported on both sides and was half carried into the house. The smell of cooking wafting in from the kitchen made her retch again. Luciano’s sister Paola emerged, wiping her hands on a tea towel.
“Oh, Hanna, you look so pale. You shouldn’t have let her come,” she said, eyeing her brother crossly. “Here, let’s get you to bed. You’ll feel better after a lie down.”
Hanna smiled weakly and let Paola take her to one of the guest bedrooms at the back of the house, far away from the aromas of the festive meal that was being prepared. The room was cool and quiet, the blinds closed to the winter sunlight. Paola helped her into bed, covered her with a warm duvet, and went into the adjoining bathroom for a glass of water. Hanna took a couple of sips before sinking back gratefully into the pillows. Paola pulled the door to as she left. Hanna closed her eyes and soon drifted off to sleep.
She was woken some time later by raised voices. Muzzy-headed from her short but fitful sleep, it took Hanna a few minutes to come to and remember where she was. The voices she could hear were not happy; it was more of a heated exchange, although she was too far away to make out the words.
Slowly, she pushed back the duvet and got up
. The nausea seemed to have disappeared for the time being. She stumbled into the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face, grimacing at her dishevelled appearance in the mirror above the basin. Retrieving her handbag from the bedroom, she ran a brush through her hair and reapplied her lipstick. Not great, but as good as it’s going to get, she thought. As she emerged from the room, the commotion calmed down as if its protagonists sensed her approach.
By the time she got to the lounge, the voices had subsided to a low chatter. The family were gathered there: Arazia and her husband Michele, Paola and Luciano’s younger brother Giulio, but there was no sign of Luciano.
“Oh, there you are, cara,” said Arazia with a tight smile. “How are you feeling now? Any better?”
“Yes, thanks,” replied Hanna. “I’m so sorry, I hope I haven’t spoiled your arrangements on such a special day.”
“Not at all,” said Michele. “We’re so happy you could join us. We’re planning on eating in about an hour or so. Do you feel up to it?”
“I think I’ll be able to eat something,” said Hanna, conscious of the faint growls coming from her stomach. “Where’s Luciano?”
“He’s… err, had to go out to resolve some sort of problem in one of the wineries. He’ll be back shortly,” said Giulio. “Can I get you something to drink? Maybe a soft drink, a fruit juice, if you’re not feeling too good?”
Hanna accepted a chilled pear juice and joined in the conversation which veered from the latest celebrity indiscretions to the island’s political problems. Arazia and Paola kept popping out into the kitchen to make sure that the preparations were progressing to plan. Nothing more was said about Luciano’s absence until he reappeared about half an hour later.
“So sorry,” he said breathlessly, as if he’d been in a rush to return. “Just a problem we’ve been having with one of the machines. It was easier to go and resolve it on the spot rather than try and explain it to the duty manager. Hope I haven’t missed anything? Glad to see you’re up, Hanna – you look so much brighter.” He went over to her and kissed her lightly on the cheek. “Are we ready for the Christmas toast then?”
