Tell Me No Truths

by Gill Vickery

  James’s voice rose and fell in irritated bursts like the heart trace of someone with palpitations. Mum’s soothed over it like a patient nurse.

  Nico flipped to his drawing of Mrs Bax’s garden, its tiny strokes of hatching and cross-hatching building up to darken the shadows in the grove. The feeling of recognition he’d felt when he walked in the glade with Mrs Bax crept over him again. He held the book out at arm’s length and squinted at the drawing, willing himself to understand. All at once he did. It was so obvious!

  He left the journal on the table and went to his room to check through his stack of pamphlets. There it was – a picture of Mrs Baxendall’s garden. The painter was Alessandro Filipepi, always known by his nickname of Botticelli, or ‘Little Barrel’. Now Nico understood why Mrs Bax was collecting flowers and weeds and planting them in her garden. Nico grinned and imagined himself confronting Mrs Bax with the evidence like Alessandro Lupo confronting the murderer in one of E. J. Holm’s novels. He stopped grinning when he got back to the living room and saw Mum reading his journal.

  ‘What are you doing?’ He tried to grab it back.

  Mum clutched it to her chest. ‘Just who are these people you’ve been meeting behind my back?’

  Nico clenched his fists to stop himself from ripping the book out of Mum’s hands. ‘You read my journal – my private journal.’

  ‘Never mind that, you’ve been lying to me – swanning off by yourself – accepting lifts from total strangers – going to their houses in the middle of nowhere!’ Mum’s voice rose in stages of pitch and intensity as though she were practising arpeggios. James appeared looking startled.

  ‘Anything could’ve happened!’ Mum shrieked in a perfect top C.

  ‘You read my journal!’ Nico stepped forward, his face grim.

  Mum clutched the book closer. ‘You got lost in a forest!’

  ‘What?’ James said.

  ‘Shut up!’ Hattie and Nico yelled together.

  ‘Don’t tell me to shut up,’ James said. ‘Calm down, Hattie.’

  ‘Don’t tell me to calm down, you patronising fool.’ Mum burst into tears and sank into a chair. Nico took the opportunity to wrestle the book from her.

  ‘I can’t believe you did that – read my private journal.’ He glared at his mother. She was going to spoil everything.

  ‘Have you got it safe?’ Amber asked Jade.

  ‘Yep, it’s in my bag, stop stressing.’

  ‘I’m not – I’m just checking.’

  Dad stuck his head round the bedroom door. ‘Come on, girls, we’re going to be late.’ He picked up Jade’s bag. ‘This’s heavy – what you got inside?’

  ‘Project stuff.’ Jade took the bag from Dad, slung it over her shoulder and led the way downstairs to the Collier-Croziers. They were going to wait with Nico while the adults started out for Torre del Lago.

  Even through the heavy apartment door they could hear shouting.

  ‘Knock and they’ll stop,’ Mum said.

  Dad thumped on the door and there was an abrupt silence. Then the door opened and James beckoned them in. Hattie was wiping her eyes with a tissue and Nico was looking daggers at her. James locked the French windows casually, as though the atmosphere wasn’t zinging with tension. Jade tried to catch Nico’s eye but he carried on staring at Hattie, lips tight with fury, his skull earring trembling menacingly.

  Dad coughed. ‘Are you ready?’

  ‘No,’ Hattie said. ‘We’re not going.’

  ‘I am,’ James said. Jade admired his calmness.

  ‘Then I’ll stay on my own, with Nico,’ Hattie said.

  ‘If you stay with Nico you won’t be on your own,’ James pointed out.

  ‘I’m not staying,’ Nico said.

  ‘Oh yes you are!’ Hattie shrilled.

  ‘No, I’m not.’

  Jade stared from Nico to Hattie and back again. This was the kind of argument that could go on forever if someone didn’t break it up.

  Amber came to the rescue. ‘What’s up? Is Nico in trouble?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, he’s in trouble,’ Hattie said tearfully. ‘He wasn’t in Florence on Wednesday – he was gallivanting in the mountains with total strangers.’

  How did Hattie know? Jade stared in horror at Nico. Had he said anything about her and Amber and what they’d been doing?

  ‘She read my journal,’ Nico said. ‘About how I got on the wrong bus and met an Englishwoman called Mrs Baxendall.’ Nico glared pointedly at Hattie. ‘A nice old English woman who saved me from getting gored by wild boars.’

  James perked up. ‘You were threatened by wild boars?’

  ‘No, I’m exaggerating, like you do.’

  Jade wondered if she could relax a bit. Nico obviously hadn’t said anything about meeting her family at the Villa dei Fiori or what she’d discussed with him in La Rocca.

  ‘Wait a minute.’ Hattie stared at Jade and Amber. ‘You were supposed to be with Nico. Did you know about this?’

  There was no point in lying. ‘Yes,’ Jade said.

  ‘Where were you then?’ Dad asked.

  Jade patted her bag. ‘Doing the project like we said. Nico wanted to see the frescoes properly in San Giovanni so he told us where to go in Florence and he went to Borgo Sant’Angelo. He got on the wrong bus and got lost.’

  ‘Mrs Baxendall wanted me to ring you from her landline,’ Nico said to Hattie, ‘I didn’t because I knew you’d just go off on one. I was quite safe, Mother.’

  ‘Safe! Safe! This Mrs Baxendale . . .’

  ‘Baxendall,’ Nico snapped.

  ‘Mrs whatever-her-name-is – she’s a madwoman!’ Hattie appealed to James. ‘You didn’t read about her in that journal.’

  ‘You shouldn’t have either, Hattie.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You shouldn’t have read Nico’s diary.’

  ‘What?’ Hattie couldn’t seem to believe what James had said. Jade couldn’t wait to hear what was coming next.

  ‘He seems to have managed quite well to me. You do over-react, Hattie . . .’

  Hattie gathered breath. James ignored her.

  ‘. . . it’s only natural he didn’t tell you. If he’d phoned you’d have had hysterics, got a taxi from Lucca and gone to pick him up when he was managing fine by himself.’

  Hattie blew. ‘Hysterics! I’m a mother concerned for her child. You know nothing of how a mother feels.’

  ‘Since I’m a man I don’t see how you can expect me to.’

  Dad coughed. ‘We’ve got to go.’ Jade knew her father didn’t like scenes and wanted to escape.

  ‘Right,’ James said. ‘Come on, Hattie.’

  ‘I’m not going, I told you.’

  ‘Please yourself.’

  It was a total stand-off.

  There was a knock at the door. Everyone swung round and stared as James opened it. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Good morning,’ a very English voice said. ‘May I speak to Mrs Collier?’

  ‘And you are?’

  ‘Mrs Baxendall!’ Nico ran to the door.

  ‘I know I’m early, m’dear,’ Mrs Baxendall said, beaming, ‘I wanted to meet your mother. Make sure she knows I’m bona fide and not some mad child abductor.’

  Nico ushered her up to Hattie. ‘Mother, this is Mrs Baxendall, the lady who rescued me in the forest.’

  Emily Baxendall pumped Hattie’s hand up and down. ‘Glad to meet you – and “rescued” is rather an exaggeration.’

  Nico introduced her to everyone else before sitting her down next to Mum.

  ‘I can see you’re ready for the off,’ Mrs Baxendall said. ‘I won’t keep you – just wanted to give you my contact details.’ She passed a sheet of paper to Hattie. ‘Here you are – phone me anytime.’

  Hattie took the paper. The room, bri
ght with the sun hammering impatiently on the glass, was silent. Everyone waited to see if Hattie was going to give in. Jade didn’t think so: only a miracle was going to get Hattie to back down from the noisy stand she’d made.

  ‘By the by,’ Mrs Baxendall said, ‘I’ve got something for you. Nico told me you enjoy the Alessandro Lupo novels and I thought the latest E. J. Holm might be just the ticket.’ She gave Hattie a book.

  Hattie held it reverently. ‘But it’s not out till next month!’ She opened it with exaggerated care. ‘It’s signed! How did you manage that?’ she said in awe. ‘E. J. Holm never does book signings.’

  ‘I’ve written histories and travel books about Italy,’ Mrs Baxendall said, ‘and Holm and I have the same agent. She always sends me an advance copy of his novels and she keeps a stack of signed book plates for the favoured few.’

  ‘But it’s yours.’

  Jade almost laughed out loud. Hattie was clinging to the book tighter than she’d clung to Nico’s journal. She wasn’t going to give it up without a struggle.

  Mrs Baxendall smiled. ‘I can get another. Please, do accept it.’

  Yes, Hattie, take it, Jade urged silently. Then we can get going.

  ‘It’s very kind of you,’ Hattie said quietly, her cheeks pink.

  ‘Don’t mention it. Nico told me you’re off to Torre del Lago today. Isn’t that the setting for The Coloratura Assassin?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Luisa coughed for attention. ‘We ought to go now, Hattie. You can read the book on the train.’

  Hattie caved in. ‘What were your plans for today, Nico?’ she asked primly.

  ‘I’m going to Mrs Baxendall’s.’

  In the silence that followed Mrs Baxendall glanced from Hattie to Nico. ‘I see you didn’t tell your mother,’ she said and shook her head. ‘You can’t come with me unless she agrees.’

  ‘Mum?’ Nico said.

  Hattie looked sternly at him. ‘Make sure you behave yourself for Mrs Baxendall,’ she said.

  Jade smirked as Nico grunted, ‘OK.’ He’d won the argument and got his way even though his mother had really embarrassed him.

  ‘And what about you two?’ Dad asked Jade and Amber. ‘What were your plans?’

  ‘We were going to do research on our own,’ Jade said. It was true: they were doing research, just not on Michelangelo and not in Florence.

  Mrs Baxendall slapped her knees. ‘Would you like a lift to the railway station?’ she asked Hattie.

  ‘That would be very kind.’

  Jade had a hard time not snorting at Hattie’s meekness.

  ‘I’ll be back for you directly, Nico,’ Mrs Baxendall said. ‘I take it the young ladies will be staying in Florence all day?’

  Before Jade had a chance to perjure herself Nico leaped to the door and yanked it open and Mrs Baxendall swept all the adults out.

  The room was very quiet without Hattie’s shrieking and the old lady’s cheerfully loud voice.

  ‘Did you write about us in that diary thing?’ Amber demanded.

  ‘No. I never mention you. It isn’t any of my business.’

  ‘Too right.’

  Jade shook her head at her sister – there was such a thing as being too critical. ‘Thanks, Nico,’ she said.

  ‘No bother. I suppose you’re going back to your relatives in Borgo Sant’Angelo?’

  The girls exchanged a quick look. ‘Yes, we are,’ Amber said grudgingly. ‘We’re going to prove they’re wrong about Nonno.’

  Jade didn’t want to start that all over again. ‘Come on or we’ll miss the bus.’ She smiled at Nico. ‘See you later. We can compare notes.’

  Amber grunted a ‘bye’ and the twins left Nico to himself.

  Mrs Baxendall was gone a long time. Nico wondered if she’d got caught in traffic. He decided to wait for her outside. As he opened the flat door he was surprised to hear Mrs Baxendall’s loud voice coming up from the lobby. She was talking to someone with a softer voice and Nico couldn’t identify the speaker. He closed the apartment door and went down the stairs to find Mrs Baxendall deep in conversation with the Signora. They were so engrossed they didn’t notice Nico. He drew back against the wall, his mind racing. From the easy and familiar way the women spoke to each other Nico could tell they were old friends. It explained quite a bit: if the Signora, who was interested in the Thompsons for some reason, had told Mrs Baxendall all about them, she would have recognised the girls’ names when Nico told her about them and their mock project. She might even have sent Teo to the Villa dei Fiori on purpose. What were these two old ladies up to?

  Nico listened carefully, cursing his poor Italian, which wasn’t nearly good enough to help him understand more than a few words here and there: ‘. . . serata . . . spaghettata . . . Volpe . . . Alec . . .’

  He was getting nowhere. He pushed away from the wall and carried on down the stairs. The conversation stopped and the Signora smiled politely before going into her flat without speaking to him.

  Mrs Baxendall wasn’t put out. ‘Come along, m’dear,’ she said, ushering Nico out to her old car. ‘Tell me what you wrote about discovering the viperina.’

  Clearly Mrs Baxendall’s conversation with the Signora wasn’t up for discussion. ‘I’ve brought it with me.’

  ‘Good man.’

  He read his report out to Mrs Baxendall as she negotiated the chaotic traffic on the outskirts of Florence. ‘Just what I wanted,’ she said when he’d finished.

  ‘I found out more.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘The glade where you planted the viperina – it’s exactly like the one in the Primavera. I can’t believe I didn’t see it straight away.’

  ‘We often don’t see what’s right under our noses.’

  ‘But I know that painting really well.’

  ‘My garden isn’t a painting.’

  No, Nico thought, though it was a brilliantly mad idea, bringing a fantasy to life. ‘It’s never going to grow exactly like Botticelli’s meadow, is it?’

  ‘Hardly, since he made up quite a few of his plants. Besides, it wasn’t my intention, at least not at first. It started after I’d had an argument with my father one spring morning – I had a fearsome temper as a girl – and stormed off into the hills. I flung myself down, full of self-pity, and found myself nose to nose with a wild iris, a tiny perfect thing exactly like the one in the Primavera. I dug it up, showed Father. He suggested I make a garden. It kept me out of his hair until I went away to school in England.’

  ‘Did your mother want you to go?’ Nico asked, thinking of Mum.

  ‘No, dear.’ Mrs Baxendall navigated a slot between two lorries and they were out in the open countryside. As they sped along, Nico learned that Mrs Baxendall’s mother had been killed in an air raid while her father was recovering from war injuries. ‘There was nothing left for Father in England and he returned to Italy to bring me up alone. It wasn’t easy, which was why he packed me off to boarding school when I was fourteen and then insisted I went to university in the UK to study Art History.’

  ‘You came back to Italy after that?’

  ‘Not straight away. I married very young, to dashing Captain Henry Baxendall.’ Mrs Baxendall chuckled and blithely navigated her way round a series of hairpin bends. ‘I met Henry at the university Leavers’ Ball. He was my friend Fiona’s brother – she introduced us. We were wed far too young.’ Mrs Baxendall laughed again. ‘It was the dress uniform that did it for me – I was still naive enough to have romantic notions about the military. Henry was killed soon after, in the war in Malaysia.’

  Nico had never even heard of that one. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘It was a long time ago. Henry’s death finally taught me that war is only ever squalid and brutal – which was Father’s opinion too after fighting in Italy. Afterwards, I came here to make a life, as my
father had done and for much the same reasons.’

  The car lurched through the lion gates and stopped in front of the house.

  ‘Come, Nico, and I’ll show you just what an obsession Botticelli’s garden has become.’

  CHAPTER XIV

  WHEN JADE AND Amber reached the Villa dei Fiori they saw a bright yellow scooter parked underneath a chestnut tree. Amber immediately got on it.

  ‘Get off!’ Jade said.

  ‘Don’t be so boring.’

  ‘I said, get off!’ Jade pulled at her arm.

  ‘Lighten up – I was only having a laugh.’ Amber dismounted.

  ‘Not funny,’ Jade mumbled. Why had she panicked like that? They’d both done similar things before and it had never bothered either of them. She decided it was because she wanted to make a good impression on Caterina; after all, how could she insist Nonno had been a good man if she and Amber behaved like idiots?

  ‘You can be so sad.’ Amber left the bike and went to the door, Jade close behind to make sure she didn’t make a run for it and jump back on the scooter. Caterina answered Amber’s knock, her face as smiley as when they’d last seen her.

  ‘Come in, come in,’ she said, kissing the girls in welcome. She ushered them through to the sunny kitchen where a tall dark boy stood talking to Teo. ‘This is your cousin, Dario,’ Caterina beamed. ‘He has returned early from his trip so that he can meet you.’

  ‘I’m very pleased you are here,’ Dario said in English and shook hands with them.

  ‘Let’s talk Italian,’ Amber said. ‘It reminds me of talking to Nonno.’

  Jade groaned inside. Why does she have to wind everybody up?

  Dario grinned. ‘That’s good,’ he said in Italian, ‘my English isn’t great.’

  Teo threw an arm round his shoulders and shook him. ‘You should practise every day like I have to for my work.’

  Dario shrugged him off and Teo cuffed him affectionately.

  ‘Why aren’t you at Mrs Bax’s?’ Amber demanded.

  Jade began to wonder if she’d ever be able to relax around her sister.

  If Teo had noticed Amber’s hostile tone it didn’t show when he answered: ‘I told her I have family business and that I’ll be back later after lunch to take your friend Nico back to his mamma.’