by Nigel Bird
I know all about difficult situations. Remember holding onto Rory as life slipped away. Now Arturo has my attention. I’m tuned in to him like a phone to Wi-Fi.
“Those souls need a little help in their passing. A gateway to shift through. That’s where I come in.”
“You’re opening the door for them?”
“That’s pretty much it.”
“So when you were drawing the waiter the other night, you were doing him a favour.”
“Absolutely.”
“And if you’d not managed to finish your drawing on time?”
His lips straighten. “That’s not so good. The alternative is a life in Limbo. Imagine being able to see all the good things of the world and never being able to experience any of them.”
That’s how my life has been since Rory. I don’t tell him that. “How terrible.”
“You can’t rest or switch off and the only communication you have is with other tortured souls. I wouldn’t wish that upon my worst enemy.”
I can think of a few people I’d send that way. Rory’s killer for a start.
Arturo taps me on the knee. “Are you all right?”
“Of course.” More wine. It soothes out a few of the creases. Then the image of the young girl at the station flashes through my mind and I tense right up again.
“So what happens when someone like me comes along and gets in the way?”
“It’s never happened before.”
His smile is disarming. I guess he’s got over me ruining his work. “Tell me, how does one get a job like that? It’s not one I’ve seen advertised.”
“They found me.”
“Really?”
“On account of my talent.”
His confidence should wind me up. It doesn’t. “Which one?”
“My drawing skills.”
“And what’s the going rate for a man of your calibre?”
“It might not be as high as you imagine.” Would it be too much to ask for me to fall for a rich man? “No money changes hands. I have to earn my crust like everyone else.”
“Oh?”
“I get paid with time. As long as I’m performing, I stay the way you see me right now.”
Drop dead gorgeous I suppose he means. “God must be a very wise old bird.”
It’s hard to tell with his tan, but I think he’s blushing.
“You don’t know the half of it.”
“But the half I understand is that you’re immortal.”
“Almost.”
“You either are or you’re not.”
“Like I said, it depends on my performance.”
“Which shouldn’t be a problem given how good you are.”
“I’m the best.”
“And I suppose you’ve got some special powers to keep life interesting.”
“There might be a few.”
“Like being able to find my name out when I haven’t told you?”
“That’s one.”
“And remaining invisible to everyone while you work.”
“Correct.”
“Then tell me why, when you drew the waiter, I could see you and talk to you just like you’re normal?”
He gets up. Brings the bottle over to the bed. Tops up the glasses and sits down. “It’s why you interest me so. There must be something special about you.”
“There really isn’t.”
“I think there is.” He’s not flirting now. His expression is grave. “You’ve been close to a death. I can sense it. Lost someone and been damaged. Whatever it was, it is yet to be resolved.”
I put my glass down on the bedside table. Pull my legs up to my chest and rest my chin on my knees.
“It’s not important what happened. What matters is that you pull yourself back together.”
He sounds like my mother and the doctors at the hospital. “I have medication to help with that.”
“Pills are good. Time is better. Love is the best.” He stares deep into my eyes. The connection is strong. It’s as if the rest of the world no longer exists.
He touches my leg. His fingers run up the back of my calf and stop behind my knee. The tingles spread through me like electricity. My heart races. His hand moves up to mine and he strokes my fingers.
As he leans in, he looks right inside me. I sense him finding out everything I’ve ever done or imagined. I move closer. Put my lips on his.
His mouth is soft and warm. It carries the flavour of the wine. Every nerve ending I have finds peace. Our tongues meet. They say hello like old friends who know exactly what to do.
I touch his face. Trace the line of his jaw.
He nibbles at my neck. The buzz electrifies my toes and my temperature shoots off the scale. Happiness flows through my veins like rivers of molten gold.
“What are you doing?” Rory’s question breaks the spell. His voice is stern and cold. My blood turns to ice.
I put my hands on Arturo’s chest and push him away. Check out the room, half expecting to see Rory lurking. The room is quiet and empty.
“What’s the matter?” Arturo sounds wounded. Like I’ve insulted his prowess.
Someone pounds at the door. Their timing is perfect. Maybe Arturo’s right about there being a god.
I jump up to answer.
Arturo grabs my arm. Pulls me back. “They’ll go away,” he whispers in my ear. “Just wait.”
The pounding continues. “Arturo.” The voice outside is loud. “Open up, it’s me.”
Arturo closes his eyes. His disappointment is palpable. I squeeze his hand and try to smile. “We’ve got plenty of time.”
He gets up and opens the door. Valentino pushes his way in. His suede jacket is perfect.
The men shake hands. Valentino comes my way. Kisses both my cheeks. Makes me feel like part of the team.
“Another job?”
Valentino reaches into his bag. Pulls out two brown envelopes. “I wouldn’t have bothered you if it wasn’t urgent.”
Arturo takes them over to the desk. Empties the contents of the first. “An old man across town at two o’clock in the morning?” He frowns at his friend. “Hardly worth rushing for.”
“Must be the other one.”
Arturo opens it slowly. Pulls out a photograph and a sheet of paper. His eyes widen and he goes pale.
“What is it?” Valentino looks worried. Goes over to check out the information.
Arturo turns the photograph my way.
I’m looking at a black and white picture of myself, face down on the pavement outside the lobby of the hotel. The same dress I’m wearing right now. There’s a thump in my chest like my heart is trying to beat its way through my ribcage. My strength disappears and I grab hold of the back of the chair.
“How long have you got?” Valentino asks the question and puts his arm around my shoulder.
Arturo checks his watch. “Twenty minutes.” He rubs his goatee hard.
“Not long.” Valentino. “What are we going to do?”
He goes to the window, opens it up and stares down. Turns my way. “You asked about what happens when someone gets in the way of my work. Now we have the answer.” My heart fills with panic. “It looks like I’m about to fail to deliver for the second time in one day.”
I throw my arms around him and kiss his cheek.
“He has to do it.” Rory is angry. “Make him draw the picture. It will bring us back together.”
“I’m not ready,” I tell him. “Leave me alone.
Arturo and Valentino exchange a look of concern. “Get your things.” Arturo takes control. “We’re leaving.”
“Don’t let him take you.” Rory is insistent. “Just jump. There’s no need to be afraid. Come to me now.”
I get up and take a step towards the window. It’s as though I can no longer control my movements.
Arturo blocks the way. I push against his arm and he resists. Slaps my face. I wake with a start. Stare at my new friend. Wait for him to help.
&nb
sp; He relaxes his grip. Closes the shutters. Picks up his bag and ties up his hair. “You can’t stay here. They’ll come to find out what happened as soon as the time’s up.”
“The Duomo?” Valentino asks.
“It’s the only option.” Arturo kisses me on the forehead. His lips make everything all right. “Pack your suitcase. Valentino will take you. Do everything he says. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He picks up his bag. Checks the contents, closes it and says goodbye.
The idea of being separated from him fills me with panic. I run over and throw my arms around his neck, scared of what I might do if I’m left alone.
“I need to start drawing. That way, I’ll have something to show the boss when she shows. Trust me.”
“I do.” Completely. “See you soon.” He leaves the room, goes to the lift and presses the button.
I grab my case. Throw in everything I’ve got and smooth out the bed.
Valentino checks the drawers to make sure nothing’s left. He picks up the bottle of wine. Drinks what’s left and fills it from the tap. Picks up one of the roses and snaps the stem where it’s broken. Pops it into the water and tidies the mess. “You ready?” he asks.
“As I’ll ever be.” I pick up the case, double check I’ve got my wallet and passport and follow my new friend towards the next chapter of my life.
Episode Four
My joints ache after a night of restless sleep. The bed here might be fit for a monk doing penance, but not for an English girl with a nervous disposition. I rub myself down and do my stretches. Carry the paraffin lamp to the sink and hang it onto the hook. I check myself out in the tiny cracked mirror on the wall. The reflection splits my face into two. I stare at my other selves for a while. Wait to see if they have anything to say. Both remain silent.
I clean my teeth, brush my hair and make myself as presentable as I can. I wish Arturo were here. Being beside the crypt is unnerving. Far too close to death for my liking. The sooner I get outside, the better.
I step into a corridor. Use the light on my phone to see where I’m going. Wander up the uneven stone stairs, push through the small door and enter the church.
The gothic arches stand simple and plain. After I’ve been to the shops, I’m going to spend a while here and sketch. See if I can’t capture the perfection of the place. A few hours concentrating on nothing but my art is just what I need. My therapist would be proud of me for thinking this way.
Under the dome the early-bird tourists huddle together. I don’t feel like being near people, so I walk the other away. I almost bump into Dante. He stands in the middle of a painting and stares off into the distance. Behind him are the circles of Purgatory. To his left a procession of sinners descending to hell. There’s something haunting about the work. It’s as if it’s trying to tell me something.
Goosebumps break out on my arms. For the first time in years I want to pray. I slide into the nearest pew and kneel on the foot rest. Weave my fingers together and wait for the words to come.
“Let me be good, Lord.” It sounds about right. “Be kind to Rory. Tell him I’m sorry. That I can’t be there until the time is right.” God will be able to explain things to him better than I can. “Keep me safe and take care of Arturo. He has a lot of love to give. Don’t be too hard on him. And while I’m here, Bless Mum and help Dee make a full recovery.” I stand, stare up at the angels and hope they’re listening.
I leave the seats and head to the door. Stop by a shrine at the side. Take a Euro from my purse and drop the coin into an old metal box. Choose a candle, light it and place it in the candelabra with the others. Maybe it will bring me luck. Something tells me I’m going to need it.
I walk through the exit and check that everything is normal. The sky is blue. There’s a gentle buzz of traffic in the distance. People mill around the square like they haven’t a care in the world. Most importantly, there’s not a dwarf in sight.
I check my watch. Make a note of the time. Ten minutes to ten. According to Arturo, I shouldn’t be away from the sanctuary of the church for more than half an hour. That shouldn’t be a problem.
I scan the outside world one more time. The coast is definitely clear. I hurry out and walk with purpose in the direction of the shops.
The heat lifts my spirits immediately and my pace slows.
The market looks tempting. A browse surely can’t do any harm - I am on holiday, after all.
The jewellery stall pulls me towards it like a magnet. A young woman with olive skin and jet black hair fiddles with a silver bracelet and a pair of pliers. She looks up as I approach, smiles and returns to work. I go straight for the earrings. Turn the carousel and pick out a pair with orange beads with red stripes. I hold them up to the light. They shine like miniature suns. I have to have them. Pass over ten Euros and tell the lady to keep the change. I open my bag and drop in my new gift to myself.
“Natalie Swift.” The deep voice in my ear is accompanied by a firm hand gripping my shoulder. It’s like an exercise in my self-defence classes. Instinctively, I curl my left hand into a fist and prepare to swing. “You’re not an easy woman to find.”
I realise straight away that the man behind me hasn’t come from the dark side. Recognise the tones of Inspector Red of the Florence police.
Green appears from the side. Same suit and tie as when we met and this time freshly shaved. He looks like a boxer escaped from a comic book. “We checked your hotel. You’re booked for another four nights and yet the only trace of you was a yellow rose.”
“You must realise how suspicious that seems.” Red. He comes into view, keeping a hold of my arm all while. His face is grey with stubble and he looks like he hasn’t slept.
“What are you talking about?”
“We heard all about it. Your outburst at the station yesterday afternoon.”
“Plenty of people saw you. We checked it out with the CCTV. Odd that we were the ones sent to the scene, don’t you think? Seeing as we were the team assigned to investigate the hit-and-run you were involved with.”
“I don’t...” Confusion takes over and stops me finishing the sentence. “It’s not...” Surely they can tell from the surprise on my face that I have nothing to do with any of this.
“She’s lost for words,” Red says.
“How convenient.” Green.
“Not that it matters. When we get you down to the station, young lady, I’m sure you’ll have plenty to say.”
The station? A flock of birds takes off inside me. Their wings beat hard against the walls of my stomach. The only thing I’m sure of is that their cells aren’t in the Duomo. Which means the only way I can stay safe is to get away.
If I can take them by surprise, I might be able to give them the slip.
I stamp my heel into Red’s toe as hard as I can. Swing my fist into Green’s chin. Raise my knee and plant it between Green’s legs.
“Oomph,” he says as his breath escapes him. I shake my arm, but Red still has a hold. I struggle to get into my purse. Fumble through the makeup and the tissues and my new jewellery until I find what I need. I pull out the tube and point the pepper spray into his face. Press down and watch his eyes screw tight and his mouth contort into a twist of pain.
The grip loosens. I wriggle free. Set off running towards the church. The air rushes past my ears and I sidestep a couple checking out a menu board. I’m about to accelerate away when I’m suddenly thrown to the floor by a flying detective.
My head crashes into the ground and my elbows leave skin on the pavement. I think my knee’s twisted. The world goes quiet. Green steps in, a raccoon mask of inflammation across his face, and slaps a pair of cuffs around my wrists.
*
The cell smells of bleach and arm pits. The walls are white. There’s a single bed, a chair and a desk with a Gideon bible on top. I’m tempted to have a read. Find out all about the errors of my ways. Decide against it on account of the fact that my head hurts and my hand feels twice its normal size. T
here’s been no sign of Red or Green for the past hour and I’m beginning to wonder if they’ve forgotten I’m here.
If there’s a plus side, I guess that there isn’t a safer place in the city. There are locks everywhere and you can’t get past the front desk without a badge or an arresting officer.
Not that I intend staying here for long. As soon as they let me have a call, I’ll be in touch with the embassy. Get them to sort out the mess. By the time they’re done, Red and Green will be wishing they’d taken up a different career.
Footsteps in the corridor interrupt the thought. They stop outside my cell. Keys jangle. A man swears under his breath. Locks click and the door opens.
In walks an officer carrying a tray. He’s middle-aged and has a serious limp. He goes to the desk and puts the tray down.
“Minestrone soup, lemon tart, coffee and water.”
The coffee I could probably manage.
I stand and step towards it. The officer puts his arms over his face in mock panic. “Don’t hit me,” he says and bursts out laughing. He gets himself under control and lifts the tin covers from the plates on the trays. There’s a plastic spoon and fork next to the food.
“When can I use the phone?”
“After lunch some time.”
“But I need to speak to someone.”
“Tell me all about it, sugar. I’m all ears.”
I pick up the plastic cutlery and throw it onto the floor. “Not you. A lawyer. To get me out of this hole.”
He looks at me like I’m a naughty child. Shakes his head. “I’ll speak to my superiors and see what I can arrange.”
With that he turns his back on me and leaves.
As the door closes there’s a flash of movement.
I hear them before I really see who they are. They cluck like excited hens. Light reflects from their scalps as they tumble and roll around my cell like clumsy acrobats. Their faces are ugly as Goya’s imps.
I run to the door and pound on the metal, screaming after the policeman. “Don’t leave me here.” I check to see whether the three little men are really here. They are. “You have to get me out.”
It’s probably what everyone tells him. He doesn’t return.
