by Rachel Lyndhurst; Carmen Falcone; Ros Clarke; Annie Seaton; Christine Bell
“Ciao, bambini,” Rosa trilled as she swung elegantly through a doorway some feet away. She was impossible to ignore in a bright-red, silk trouser suit with a contrasting orange camisole and scarf loosely tied around her neck. “Come in, quickly, and have an aperitif before dinner. The girls have lemonade already.” She spun round on her silver spiked heels and continued to chatter as they followed mutely behind. “What have you done to those poor children today, huh? All hot and sweaty and drinking like elephants in the midday sun.”
“Haven’t they told you yet?” Lorenzo said and threw his linen jacket over the back of a peach satin and gold settee. “We spent a few hours in Palermo.”
Rosa’s hand stilled over the lid of an ice bucket on a drinks trolley and she stared out of the open window. “Now why on earth would you want to do something like that on a day as nice as this?”
“I’m sure you can guess.”
“I have no wish to guess, Lorenzo. Neither do I want to hear any of the details. You should know how I feel about all that.”
“It needed to be done.”
“And now it has been.” She wrenched the glass lid off and it clattered onto the silver tray beneath when she lost her grip on it. “Maledetto! Look what you made me do.”
Lorenzo laughed lightly as his mother fussed and muttered. “Make us both a Negroni, then. It will make you feel better.”
“Hmpf.” She took three thick glass beakers from the cabinet below. “I think I will join you.”
Lora’s mouth felt even drier as she listened to the crackle of ice cubes being soused with blood red vermouth, gin, and bitter Campari. “That looks nice,” she said as Rosa stirred each glass with a crystal-tipped swizzle stick.
“Of course it’s nice,” came the acerbic reply. “But not ready yet.” She picked up a sharp knife from the trolley and regarded it menacingly for a moment, shooting Lora a look that made her blood run colder than the colored alcohol. “Arancia,” she purred and then sliced down viciously into an orange on a small wooden chopping board. Three wedges of the citrus fruit were speared onto the edge of the glass as garnish, and then she picked up a strip of lemon peel from another small bowl, rubbed the rim of the glass with it, and dropped that into the heady mixture as well. “Now it is ready,” she declared and handed them both their glasses.
They sipped without speaking for a few moments, swallowing down the bittersweet tang of the ice-cold cocktail. The warm salty sea air rippling up the mountainside and stirring the blooms of the cut fresh flowers around the room was a perfect complement.
“It’s delicious,” Lora finally managed to say, wary of saying anything much. Rosa seemed to be particularly up for a fight today. “And you have a beautiful home; it’s an honor to be your guest.”
Rosa’s laugh tinkled like the crystal droplets of the chandelier that hung from an elaborate ceiling rose in the center of the room. “Too coy. So very British. My home is your home since you are practically family now. For your sins.”
Rosa was playing with her, that much was obvious. She knew damn well the engagement was a sham, so why was she going out of her way to make her squirm? Lora ran her thumb across the underside of the engagement ring, and the movement caught Rosa’s eye.
“We’re hungry,” Lorenzo said. “Got any olives around the place? Or some parmesan to go with this?”
“Dinner will be ready shortly,” she said. “I asked chef to bring it forward as the twins will be joining us; poor things will faint soon. Don’t you ever feed them? All they seemed interested in when they came in through the door was French fries, ice cream, and chocolate bars.”
“It was a long and awkward day. We don’t usually push them so hard.” He looked down the corridor through the open door of the salon. “No sign of Mariella. Is she not joining us?”
Rosa stiffened. “She sends her apologies, but it’s her horse-riding class today. She didn’t want to miss it. You know how she is, and then she’s going to the cinema with some friends.” She swallowed before continuing. “She’s become very fond of one particular pony, I’m afraid.”
“Unfortunate.” Lorenzo extended an arm around Lora’s shoulders. “In that case, shall we gather the other two and go up onto the terrace? It’s a perfect evening for dining al fresco, si?”
“Everything is arranged,” Rosa said and her eyes turned a darker shade of bitter chocolate as she glared at Lora over the edge of her glass.
…
“That was the best pork I’ve ever eaten,” Lora said after swallowing the last mouthful of her dinner. “You must give me the recipe before we leave, Rosa.”
“So you can cook it for Lorenzo when you’re m—”
“So she can cook it for everyone she knows,” Lorenzo blurted. He’d also noticed how quiet Bee and Fina were while they’d been eating; they were soaking up every single word of the adults’ conversation, and he didn’t want them getting wind of their engagement now.
“Of course.” Rosa smirked. “I will get chef to write it down for you, but it’s not complicated. A boned shoulder left to marinade in red wine and stuffed with Bronte pistachios, pecorino, and carrots. The sauce is a puree of the vegetables and herbs it was roasted on. With the addition of the leftover wine, naturally.” She turned to Lorenzo. “It goes well with this Angheli too, don’t you think?”
Lorenzo felt irritated; his mother was deliberately trying to exclude Lora from the conversation, her way of establishing her territory and reinforcing the fact that he would always be her son even if he did remarry. She was as good as saying Lora needed to remember her place, and he didn’t understand why since she knew he was going to call the engagement off within a few weeks after getting the deal signed. He leaned over and whispered theatrically into Lora’s ear. “My mother is referring to the red wine we are drinking.” That should send the matriarch back a message not to meddle.
“I’m sure Lora knows that.” Rosa took another swig. “But I’ll bet she doesn’t know she’s just eaten one of your very own black pigs.”
“Have I?” The surprise in Lora’s voice was genuine; he guessed it was an unlikely thing to bring up at the dinner table.
“Yummy old pig,” Bee said and licked her lips as she crunched down on a piece of crackling.
“Use your knife and fork, please, not your fingers.” Lorenzo raised his eyebrows in admonishment and then turned to Lora. “I think I did mention having a few pig farms, but it’s not as glamorous as hotels and yacht brokering. But they’re special pigs, Nebrodi black ones, vastly superior in taste and quality to your regular swine.”
Lora took a fortifying sip of her second large glass of wine. “Very tasty. But you don’t butcher them yourself, surely?”
He sensed the mischief in her voice and wanted to joke that only his parents were qualified for that kind of a job, but he managed to stop himself. They certainly thought along the same lines, he and Lora, and he had grown fond of her irreverent take on the world. “No. There are regulations governing that sort of thing in Sicily.” He saw the corners of her mouth quirk up; she’d picked up on his secret joke, and he felt like smiling himself.
Rosa’s voice was growing louder with each sip of wine that she took. “And of course fattening all those pigs up inside the Nebrodi Castle estate has garnered him even more sleazy admirers.”
“Mamma…”
“Rehabilitating gangsters, a risky business since they all have many enemies of their own to bring to the table.”
“Not exclusively gangsters,” Lorenzo said. “Long-term unemployed, students, people fighting dependency, those in genuine need.”
Rosa sniffed. “Granted. Whatever my feelings on the matter, it does at least go to show you have more heart than your father will ever have.”
The housekeeper bringing in dessert broke the tense atmosphere, and Rosa and Lorenzo went on to discuss mundane matters, such as the difficulty in getting reliable staff and the state of the euro. Meanwhile, Lora helped wipe chocolate and walnut terrine
off the twins’ faces. Fina yawned, and Lorenzo saw the look his mother shot him out of the corner of his eye. “Tired, tesoro?” he said. “It’s been a long exciting day, hasn’t it?”
His daughter nodded and smiled. “Nonna, will you read us a story in bed like you usually do?”
Rosa smiled. “I will always be here to tell you stories, my love, but perhaps tonight it would be nice if Papa tucked you in.”
Lorenzo recognized his cue. “You’ll be staying with Nonna and Mariella for a while. Lora and I need to deal with some boring business. And we’re moving somewhere new. The moving men are coming to take our things out of the house tomorrow, so you need to be out of the way.” He could instantly sense Lora tensing and reacted fast as he saw his daughters’ faces drop. “Don’t worry, everything is coming with us, even your puppy’s kennel and toys. Nothing will be left behind.”
“What about the refrigerator?” Bee wailed. “All the pretty magnets, we need those.”
“Not a problem, but I might buy us a new fridge for the new house. A bigger one with special drawers for gelato and French fries?”
Rosa made a snorting noise and refilled her wine glass. “And granita. You like that, don’t you? Especially mandarin and melon flavor. Sound good?”
Both girls frowned and exchanged glance before shrugging. They remained silent, and Lorenzo felt his stomach clench.
Fina’s eyes narrowed. “Where is our new house?”
Lorenzo’s heart sank; his daughter was perceptive beyond her years, and successive house moves that even meant moving to a new country with their mother had made her wary of change. This would be the last time, he’d make sure of it. In fact, now would be a good time to completely reconsider his plans to send them to boarding school.
“It’s going to be a wonderful surprise for you,” he said and chose to ignore the shadow clouding his daughter’s eyes.
Lora felt the prickle of tears as she followed Lorenzo and his daughters downstairs from the terrace to their bedroom. She was furious with herself for falling face first into such an emotional hole, and the anesthetic effect of the alcohol she’d enjoyed at the time was making matters worse. Somewhere along the line, her brain had shut out the fact that her time here was quickly coming to an end and that saying good-bye to Fina and Bee was something she was going to have to do. Without showing how much it hurt her to do it and without giving any of them false hope that they would ever see each other again. Because they never would, they couldn’t, and she had no right to wish otherwise. She was not, and never would be, family.
She wrapped her arms around herself as they ran off into their ensuite bathroom to brush their teeth and change into their pajamas, a feeble attempt at holding everything she was together.
“You’re quiet,” Lorenzo observed and sat down on the end of one of the twin beds made up for the night.
“A bit overwhelmed,” she said and avoided his gaze. “I wasn’t expecting that we’d be heading off so soon.”
“You knew it would happen within the next week, Lora. It was always going to turn out like this.”
She lowered her voice so she couldn’t be heard. “Is that your answer for everything? Do you really think people are totally prepared for the things that happen to them even if they know it’s inevitable? Like death for instance? We all know it’s going to happen, but that doesn’t make it any easier to deal with.”
“Somewhat melodramatic.” He crossed his own arms.
“You could have given them more warning. Dropping it into the conversation over dinner less than a day before their world is going to be torn apart seems extreme.”
“My children are taking it in their stride. You are not.”
“How do you know what’s going on in their tiny minds? Or how it will affect them later on in life? Believe me, I have personal experience of this sort of thing.”
“You do?”
“My home was taken away, remember? When Daddy’s debts imploded, our home was legally seized overnight and we were as good as thrown out with all the rubbish. I’ve never felt it safe to make a permanent home since. It’s bad enough losing those you love without all the treasured memories of a lifetime.”
“But it’s not like that for Fina and Bee. They’re leaving nothing behind but bricks and mortar. The villa has only been their home for a short while, and for half of that time they’ve been here with Mamma. Ivanka trotted them around the world staying with all manner of people. She could never settle down here in Italy. They don’t know any different. They will be fine.”
“As they get older, they will need roots, a place to call home, friends they can play with. You can’t let them live like gypsies forever.”
“I know what I’m doing.”
“Do you? How can you? You admitted yourself that you’ve had no hand in bringing them up until recently. You did not even take them on a day trip until three weeks ago. I’m not convinced you’re the right person for the job, frankly.”
“You know nothing. I am their father. I would die for them if I had to.”
Lora felt her chin quiver. She hadn’t meant to speak so harshly and should have kept her opinions to herself, but, in the heat of the moment, emotion had gotten the better of her. By overstepping the mark, she was making her last moments with Fina and Bee an awkward occasion. She hadn’t envisaged this scene; she’d thought she’d be saying good-bye like Vanessa did, able to hide her feelings as she was driven away. But here, in the sweet-smelling pink and green bedroom, where the twins would be soft and warm and vulnerable was where it was to be and she needed to be brave. “Of course,” she said, her throat aching. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I have a little gift for them both. I don’t suppose there will be time tomorrow?”
“No, I’m afraid not. We need to leave for Cyprus in a few hours.”
“Cyprus?” The shock must have been obvious on her face, because Lorenzo’s eyes cast down as he looked away.
“Yes, Cyprus. Everything is now set for the deal with Pontecorvo to be finally signed, the reason all this started. There have been many eyes watching us over the last few weeks, loose tongues and long lenses, and our engagement has been accepted as the real thing. I’m very pleased.”
“So we go to Pontecorvo in Cyprus? Not the other way around? You surprise me, I hadn’t put you down as someone who’d take orders from anyone.”
“I’m not, but this is not something I can do in Italy.”
“Why not?”
“Because there are a lot of people who won’t be happy about what I’m going to do. Let’s leave it at that for now.”
For now? Part of her hoped she’d find out more in time. She was probably better off not knowing and sighed with defeat. “Okay, I’d better nip back up to the terrace and get my bag from the dining room, in that case. The girls’ gifts are in there.”
Lora took the stairs two at a time, the fear of tripping and smashing her face into the hard stone steps blotting out the choking emotion for a few seconds. When she got there, Rosa was still seated at the dining table, wine glass in hand, staring out at the sunset. Her dark eyes found Lora’s as she came onto the terrace. “There’s something in my handbag,” Lora said. “A small gift for each of the girls.” She almost said, “to remember me by,” but stopped herself, putting on a false grin instead.
Rosa smiled indulgently. “Lorenzo is fortunate to have found you. You’re perfect for each other.”
Lora felt her neck tense as she clutched at the handle of her bag.
“I’ve never seen him so calm and settled. And my granddaughters adore you. I am so happy that you will be married.”
What was Rosa playing at? Sadistic mind games? She knew there would never be a marriage. Perhaps she was just drunk.
“I’m pleased you are happy, but if you’ll excuse me…”
“Of course, go to them.” The older woman took out a long cigarette from a black enameled case. “It has pleased me to see two people so obviously in love. And t
hat you are wearing the Ferrante diamond. It never brought me any luck, so I won’t miss it. It was a relief to pass it on to Ivanka, too, to be honest. He never loved that Russian cow, do you know that?”
“I’m not sure it’s any of my business.”
“Of course it is! As far as the world is concerned, you will be bringing up her children. They may want contact with her at some point.”
“And so might she.”
“Possibly. But she was keen that Lorenzo paid her enough money to butt out of any custody battles. She never wanted them; she only ever wanted money and her Bolshoi stud. It was an arranged marriage. He must have told you that.”
“Lorenzo has told me everything,” she said, lying. “We have no secrets.”
“Then that is truly good. I will sleep well tonight.”
Lora made to leave.
“You wear the Ferrante diamond with my blessing.”
“Thank you,” she said in a thick voice. Feeling horribly manipulated, she left the terrace as quickly as she possibly could without actually running.
…
Soft light from bedside lamps spilled across the beds and white-painted furniture of the girls’ bedroom, and it was a scene of heart-rending contentment. Lorenzo had pulled up a beanbag between them and was reading them a bedtime story.
Bee bounced up onto her knees under her bed sheet. “Papa told us The Bear Story!”
Lora glanced at the copy of Guess How Much I Love You on his hands and felt her throat constrict. “Looks like a big hare and a little hare to me, not a bear.”
“No, silly!” Both girls giggled. “The Bear Story’s not in a book,” Fina said. “It’s the story Nonna made up to tell Papa and Mariella when they were small like us. And now Daddy’s told it to us!”
“Oh, how lovely,” Lora replied, daring even the smallest trace of a tear to surface. “It must be a very special bear story in that case.”
Bee clapped her hands together. “It is, it is! Tell Lora about the bear, Papa!”
“Not now, piccola mia.” Lorenzo smiled at her and ruffled her hair. “It’s getting late, and Lora has something special to give you.”
