by Gill Vickery
Mum gave him the book and in seconds he was engrossed. By the time the hour was up he was a fair way into it. He was still reading as he went back to Amber’s room and only came out of the story when he walked into the door. Nico didn’t know whether to tell Jade what was in the book or not. In the end, he decided to wait until he’d read the whole thing in case there was more to tell her – not that what he’d read already wasn’t startling enough.
As the goodbyes began, Dario came in and it was clear from Amber’s face she didn’t mind the others leaving. The minute Jade stepped back from hugging her Amber held out her hand to Dario.
‘That was quick,’ Nico said in a low voice as he and Jade left the room.
‘That’s her all over – she doesn’t mess around once she’s made her mind up.’
‘What about you?’
‘I like to take my time.’
That was ambiguous and Nico wasn’t sure what it meant; he ignored the hopeful feeling glowing inside him. ‘I think we ought to go and see the Signora.’
‘To ask her about Il Nido and the partisans?’
Nico nodded. ‘And the tin.’
Jade knocked on the door.
‘Could we speak to the Signora?’ she asked when Ornella answered.
Ornella opened the door wide. ‘She’s expecting you.’
The old lady was sitting by the door to the garden, a book on her lap. She waved them to a seat. ‘You wish to ask me some questions, I think. What would you like to know?’
Jade came straight to the point: ‘Why are you so interested in my family, especially my mother?’
The Signora squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. ‘I realised as soon as I saw your mother that she was related to a man called Roberto Volpe. She resembles him strongly – and, even more so, she resembles his granddaughter, Caterina Biagi, whom I know very well. Now I know for certain that your mother, she is Roberto Volpe’s daughter.’
‘Why are you so bothered about my nonno?’ Jade asked.
‘Roberto was a man who did a terrible thing that led to the death of a family who had loved him and cared for him. He did it out of jealousy and for spite and to betray the partisan group of which I was a member.’
Jade felt her stomach twist as though she were teetering on the edge of a high cliff: to hear what Nonno had done described in such plain, cold language made it feel real and terrible. She didn’t want to accept it; couldn’t accept it.
‘My nonno wasn’t like that, not jealous and spiteful. I don’t understand.’
The Signora’s knowing eyes were bright. ‘It is easy for people to behave well towards those whom they love, like you, especially when nothing is demanded in return.’
Jade tilted her chin defiantly. ‘I think you ought to say exactly what Nonno was supposed to have done and what proof you’ve got.’
The Signora nodded. ‘Yes, you are right. I will tell you.’ She closed her book and put it on a side table.
‘We were friends, the four of us, Roberto, Gaetano, Elena and I.’
‘You were friends with my nonno?’
‘Yes.’ The Signora folded her hands on her lap. ‘Elena and I were from, how do you say it, comfortably off families? Gaetano’s family were peasant farmers who owned their own house and land. Roberto was an abandoned child who lived with his grandmother. She did her best, though she was resentful and somewhat harsh. When she became too sick to care for Roberto, Gaetano’s parents took him in. He came to think of them almost as the mamma and babbo he never had. He spent a lot of time with them and his dear foster brother, Gaetano.’
Jade found it hard to match old Gaetano with the boy Signora Minardi was talking about – the boy Nonno had told her about too, though without ever mentioning his name.
‘Elena was always a beauty and in time both Roberto and Gaetano came to love her. She fell in love with Roberto. She became pregnant but her parents would not let her marry Roberto – he was a Fascist supporter, something they despised.’
That matched what Elena had written. Jade felt sick with what she knew was coming next.
‘As I said, Gaetano loved Elena also and he offered to marry her and bring up Roberto’s child as his own. Elena’s parents accepted. They did not want her to suffer the stigma of an illegitimate child – especially by a Black Brigade boy.’
‘Are you sure he was a Fascist?’ Nico asked. ‘Maybe he started out one and then changed sides.’
‘There was no changing of the sides,’ the Signora said. ‘Because we believed Roberto had been misled, and because he had been our dear friend, we were careless; we never thought he would betray us. We were wrong. When he was told that Elena and Gaetano had married, he immediately informed the Black Brigade of rumours that a spy was hiding at the farmhouse. He even led the Brigade there. It was Easter Sunday and the spy, two escaped prisoners of war and several partisans were sharing in the celebration Easter dinner with Gaetano’s family. There was a terrible fight; the English spy was dreadfully wounded but some partisans and one of the prisoners of war managed to get him away, and Gaetano with Elena also.
‘The other prisoner of war was killed and the Black Brigade – they rounded up Gaetano’s family. They shot his father dead, then they took away his mother, his sister and her husband and their little daughter. They were deported to a labour camp and never heard of again. Gaetano searched for many years. He did not discover even a trace of them.’
There was a profound silence in the room. Jade found her face was wet. She hadn’t known she was crying and even now she didn’t know whom she was weeping for – herself, the grandfather she seemed never to have truly known, or Gaetano and his lost family.
Nico broke the silence. ‘Signora Minardi, are you absolutely sure Roberto organised the raid?’
‘I saw him running to the Black Brigade headquarters. I was at the farmhouse when the Black Brigade, it arrived with Roberto at the forefront. There was no mistake.’ The Signora cleared her throat, as though speaking was difficult. ‘Though I had gone to the farm as soon as I realised what Roberto Volpe was going to do, my warning came too late; there wasn’t enough time for everyone to make their escape.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Jade whispered. ‘I know it doesn’t mean anything but I am.’
‘My dear, you have done nothing wrong and neither has your mother. You do not deserve to be upset. That was why I wanted to keep Gaetano from seeing you and your family.’ The Signora smiled wryly. ‘My plans didn’t work. I needed to be absolutely certain that you were Roberto Volpe’s family and I arranged for other members of our old partisan brigade to come and make sure that I was not imagining your mother’s likeness to Roberto and to Caterina. Someone told Gaetano there was to be a brigade reunion and he came along to see why he had been left out. He caught sight of your mother and the rest . . .’ she shrugged eloquently ‘. . . you know!’
‘Nonno told us he could never come back to Italy because his enemies said he would be killed. Is that true?’
‘Yes,’ the Signora said. ‘Gaetano shouted that as he escaped with Elena.’
‘He must really hate us too. No wonder he was angry when we were at the farmhouse.’
‘He doesn’t hate you. If he hated you he wouldn’t have helped your sister when she was in danger.’
‘That’s true,’ Nico said to Jade. ‘I guess he was angry at the farmhouse – and the restaurant, come to that – because it was such a shock to see people from Roberto’s family.’
Jade nodded. ‘I suppose.’
The Signora stood up. ‘You will forgive me if I end our conversation; I am very tired and should like to rest.’ She smiled to show she wasn’t just dismissing them, and showed them to the door.
In the lobby Nico said, ‘We need ice cream.’
Jade agreed and they went to Bar Vivoli. They sat among the polished wood and glittering glass an
d went over and over what the Signora had said.
‘We didn’t ask about the tin,’ Nico said.
‘No – and the Signora never mentioned it, or the letter.’
‘Gaetano didn’t talk about the letter either. D’you think they really didn’t know it was there?’
‘I don’t know what to believe any more. My lovely grandfather turns out to have been a vindictive traitor and the Signora was a girl freedom fighter.’
‘Did you notice the Signora was reading a copy of E. J. Holm’s latest book?’
E. J. Holm? Again? Jade shook her head irritably.
‘I think that’s a bit weird. Where’s she got an advance copy from? Mrs Baxendall? If so, how come Mrs Bax has got access to all these advance copies? Why give one to the Signora?’
And why do you always have to work everything round to books? Jade thought. Even when I’m really upset. She squashed a sigh. ‘Didn’t Mrs Bax say she had the same agent or something?’
‘She also told Mum the advance copy she gave her was a one-off. I still think it’s odd if it turns out she had two.’
‘Does it matter?’ Jade snapped. She had more important things to think about than stupid crime books.
‘It might.’
‘Why?’
‘Yesterday, when Mrs Bax picked me up to go to hers, I saw her speaking to the Signora. They seemed very cosy together – like old friends.’
‘What were they talking about?’
‘I don’t know, it was all in Italian. I caught serata and spaghettata – I think that was it.’
Jade laughed. ‘It’s a sort of spaghetti party. That makes sense ’cause on Thursday night, when I couldn’t sleep, I heard the party and went out on the balcony. A really old guy came out. It was strange; at first he looked normal then he turned and faced me . . .’ Jade hesitated; perhaps moonlight and shadows had distorted the old man’s face.
‘What?’
‘He was disfigured, really badly.’ Jade traced a finger down her left cheek. ‘His face was sort of crumpled in on this side. His eye was just blank and when he saw me he smiled at me and only half his mouth moved.’
Nico whistled softly. ‘He must’ve had an accident.’
‘I guess.’
‘Poor guy.’
‘He had a nice voice. He said, “Buona sera” really politely.’ He had the same in-built politeness as you, Jade thought. ‘Anyway, this conversation – did the Signora and Mrs Baxendall say anything else you recognised?’
‘Not really, though I think I heard them mention a couple of animal names: Lupo and Volpe.’
‘Volpe? That’s Nonno’s name. They were talking about my nonno!’
‘Maybe not – isn’t “lupo” wolf? And “volpe” fox?’
‘Yes, so?’
‘Mrs Baxendall told me there were wolves on her land – they might’ve been talking about problems with predators.’
‘Really?’ Jade looked at Nico as though he should’ve understood more of the conversation between the two old ladies though she knew it wasn’t his fault. To her annoyance he brought the conversation round to the books, yet again.
‘Have you finished The Shattered Mirror yet?’
Jade rolled her eyes. ‘No.’
‘You know I told you it’s got a lot in it about the partisans.’
‘Is there a point to this?’ she said.
‘Towards the end there’s a thread about two boys, one a fascist and one a communist, who fall in love with the same girl.’
Jade’s eyes widened. ‘What happens next?’
‘E. J. Holm doesn’t say. The book ends with another murder and Alessandro vowing to find out what happened to the girl and the two boys. He’s certain they’re linked to the serial killings. They’re the subject of the last one in the series. I thought if you read The Shattered Mirror tonight and I read the last book we could compare notes in the morning.’
Jade thought Nico would be lucky to read a fat book in one evening. She wasn’t sure she’d manage to finish hers even though she’d already started it. She agreed anyway. ‘All right, I’ll give it a try.’
‘Great. There might be things you notice that I didn’t.’
Nico leaned back and licked the last of his ice cream. ‘I need to pay Mrs Bax another visit. I’m certain she knows a lot more than she’s let on so far.’
A suspicion was growing in Jade’s mind. ‘You think she’s E. J. Holm, don’t you?’
‘Yes, I do. When she talked about him as “he” I think that was to put me off. I asked her if she’d ever met him and she said she’d never even shaken hands with him. She was being evasive – she wouldn’t shake hands with herself, would she?’
‘If she’s kept it a secret this long why do you think she’s going to confess now?’
Nico did his sly smile. ‘Because I’ve got something that she really, really wants.’
Jade had no idea what it could be and she could see that Nico wasn’t telling.
Jade had no difficulty in finishing The Shattered Mirror that night. She was gripped by the story and could see why Nico had pressed her to finish it. At the end, she dropped the book by her bed and lay thinking of where the story would go next and how it would end. Nico had better keep his part of the bargain and finish the last book, Revenge unto the Fourth Generation.
Nico finished the novel at around three in the morning. He put the book carefully on his bedside table. Mum would never, ever, forgive him if he damaged it.
Nico relaxed, going over what he’d just read. His mind chased possibilities round and round. He got up and drew the last flower in the chart he’d begun before he ever arrived in Florence. The set complete, he lay down in bed and fell instantly and satisfyingly asleep.
In April, Elena and Gaetano married in the church in Borgo Sant’Angelo. It was very quiet, almost secretive, with only the two sets of parents, the witnesses – I was honoured to be one – and the priest present. No one outside that select group knew that the child was not Gaetano’s. Nevertheless, though Elena’s parents were distressed they were resigned to the situation while Gaetano’s were accepting and welcomed the girl into their home. She soon settled into the household routine and, as Easter approached, looked forward happily to helping her new mother-in-law and sister-in-law prepare the Pasqua feast.
CHAPTER XIX
THE WAITER AT the Bar Vivoli grinned at Nico and Jade. ‘One pistachio and one strawberry?’
Nico didn’t like to think of himself as predictable and toyed with the idea of changing his mind. He decided he liked pistachio too much to bother and nodded at the waiter. As he and Jade went to their favourite table at the back of the room Nico asked, ‘What did you think of The Shattered Mirror then?’
‘Strange. Some of it seemed very close to our story; I mean the story of Nonno and the partisans, but most of the book’s about Alessandro solving the main murder and then it just ends like you said, with Alessandro vowing to find out the truth about the partisan thread.’
Nico slid his notebook across the table to Jade. It was open at the chart of flowers.
‘You showed me this before,’ she said.
‘I know. I finished it last night and now I understand what the flower business is all about.’ He spooned a dollop of pistachio out of the tub and Jade smacked his hand.
‘Don’t you dare eat till you’ve told me what it’s about.’
That was so unfair; Jade had started on her tub already. ‘In the early Alessandro books there were sub-plots about deaths that turned out later to be murders staged to look like accidents. The only link is that all these victims had flowers on their bodies somewhere.’ Nico shovelled a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth before Jade could stop him. He swallowed quickly. ‘I need to lubricate my throat, with all this talking,’ he said.
‘Now,’ he tapped at th
e flowers at the end of his chart, ‘when you get to these – ranunculus, laurel, rose and fern – Alessandro knows there’s a serial killer on the loose and that the flowers are his signature. By this time, the killer’s leaving drawings of the flowers on the victim’s body. He’s got arrogant and over-confident and he’s flaunting what he’s doing in Alessandro’s face. When we get to Murder in the Fifteenth Tower, it’s got personal for Alessandro because the killer drowns his best friend, Bruno, and little goddaughter, Tania. The murderer puts a drawing of a forget-me-not in Tania’s hand.’
‘That’s horrible!’
‘It gets worse.’ Nico considered another spoonful of ice cream – it was starting to melt. He decided Jade wouldn’t stand for it. ‘Alessandro realises that all the flowers are from the Primavera painting by Botticelli and they’re the code names of a partisan brigade who’re killing off old fascists who never got punished after the war. In real life, lots of them did really well post-war; they even sometimes stayed in the same jobs, police chiefs, medics and so on. In the books, the flower brigade decides that isn’t right and over the years they pick off their old enemies. That means there isn’t one serial killer, there’s a whole group. Each partisan kills the person they hate the most and leaves their own flower signature on the victim’s body.’
‘But why was Semiramide murdered?’
Nico shoved his tub to one side. ‘You know partisans are all really old by now?’
‘Well, they would be – it is 2005.’
‘Yep, sixty years since the war ended and obviously quite a few partisans have died. So, in the Alessandro novels, their descendants are carrying on the “executions” as the flower brigade call them. One of the killers is Semiramide’s older brother, Marco, acting for their father who died before he could carry out his execution.’
‘No!’
‘Yes. Because she’s Alessandro’s girlfriend, Semiramide knows a lot about the killer and works out some of what’s been happening. She goes to Marco who admits he was the one who killed Alessandro’s friend, Bruno. The partisans figure that a traitor’s guilt passes down the generations and Marco was originally going to kill Bruno’s father, who was on the enemy side, but since he’s no longer around, Marco decides to kill Bruno instead even though he didn’t have the same views as his father.’
