Angels of the Flood (9 page)

Superficially he had not changed all that much. His thin face and quick intelligent eyes had always given him more appeal than many flashier men. His command of English was much improved. She seemed to remember that when she’d known him he’d had a quirky grasp of the language that was especially engaging. Now, all the wrinkles had been smoothed out. He spoke with grammatical perfection and only a slight trace of an accent. It was a polished performance, just like the rest of him. In the past, he’d been almost as much at sea in the Bertonis’ complex world as she had been. Now he gave the impression of a smooth operator, sleek and well fed, a man who knows how to enjoy the small comforts of life and not ask for too much else.

She said, ‘Does Signora Bertoni often freak out like that?’

He shook his head. ‘You brought back bad memories for her.’

‘The woman’s crazy.’

‘Maybe so. She never really recovered from Francesca’s death and now that she is old… well, sometimes the memories get too strong for her. You must not take it personally.’

‘Don’t worry, I won’t.’

He smiled. ‘Still so determined?’

Kate didn’t answer. How strange that he remembered her as being determined.

Mario picked out a peach and began removing its skin. He did so carefully, his short, workmanlike fingers a contrast to the elegance of his clothes, his glossy, well-groomed exterior. He said easily, ‘So, tell me about yourself, Kate. Are you married? Do you work?’

‘Divorced. And yes, I do work.’

He was cutting the peach carefully into quarters with a little ivory-handled fruit knife. ‘And what is it you do?’

‘I work with pictures. I’m a conservator.’

‘How very interesting. Unfortunately much of the Bertoni collection has been sold off to finance the Fondazione. But there are still several which might interest you. You must ask Simona to show you. If there’s time. When did you say you had to leave?’

‘I didn’t.’

‘Ah.’ He shot her a questioning glance.

Kate couldn’t resist saying, ‘I thought I might stay a few days, actually,’ and noted with interest the quick frown that shadowed his face. No doubt about it, Mario was not relishing this opportunity to stroll down memory lane. She said, ‘Is it a problem for you, Mario, me being here?’

‘For myself, no, of course not. I am delighted to see you again.’ The impersonal professionalism was in place again. ‘But for others…’

‘Because of the way Simona’s mother reacted?’

‘No. She is old and confused.’ Kate heard the ruthlessness in his voice. ‘She does not signify any more.’

‘Then what’s the problem?’

Mario glanced towards the half-open door of the dining room. Simona’s voice could be heard quite clearly. He sighed, then said quietly, ‘Simona. Our dear Simona is the problem. She should not have asked you to stay.’

‘This is her house, Mario. Surely she can invite who she wants?’

He pounced on her words. ‘Simona invited you? I thought you told me she didn’t know you were coming.’

‘She didn’t, but once I showed up, she said why didn’t I stay. That’s all.’ Anyone would think, thought Kate, he was trying to catch her out. Why? Simona had been very insistent that Mario mustn’t be told about the value of the paintings. Was he involved in some kind of scam to defraud her? ‘Any particular reason why she shouldn’t?’ she asked.

‘It is difficult to explain.’

‘Try, anyway.’

He sighed again, then leaned back in his chair, staring thoughtfully at the four quarters of peach arranged on his plate. ‘Simona has a sensitive nature.’ He was choosing his words carefully, as if calculating how much information it was safe to give away. ‘She reacts differently than other people would. Especially when it’s anything to do with her sister.’

His words brought back another conversation, long ago. Where? Kate had a vague memory of a bar, a place without comforts, just simple tables and in the background a jukebox playing. Hadn’t Mario offered similar veiled warnings about Francesca? Was she supposed to believe that both sisters were so sensitive that exposure to someone like her would threaten their mental stability? And what exactly were the ties that bound him and Simona together? Already the questions were piling up. This had always been a place with more questions than answers. ‘So why do you think she wants me to stay?’

‘That’s what—’ He broke off as Simona returned to the dining room.

‘Sorry about that,’ she said, looking questioningly from Kate to Mario. ‘Last-minute glitches in the arrangements for the gala day tomorrow. You’ll be able to see the Fondazione congratulating itself, Kate. Now that we are successful everyone wants a piece of the action. They’re even sending some big shot from the department of culture in Rome.’

‘Kate may not be able to stay another day,’ said Mario.

‘Oh, but she must. She’s only just got here.’

‘Did you know Kate works with pictures? She’s a conservator?’

‘Is that true, Kate?’ Simona simulated surprise. ‘How fascinating. We’ll have to have a proper tour in the morning, so you can see what we have left. Not so much as my uncle had, but still not bad for a private collection.’

‘You could show them to her now,’ said Mario.

‘No, daylight is best. So, Kate, how would you like to be entertained this evening?’

‘Kate is no doubt tired after that long taxi ride,’ said Mario, the slight emphasis on the last three words betraying his suspicion.

‘Oh, don’t be so boring, Mario. It’s still early. You go home if you want to, but these last evenings of summer are so special it’s a crime to waste them. I know!’ She clapped her hands together in a theatrical gesture, as though the idea had just that moment occurred to her. ‘Let’s walk up to La Guardia. It’s nearly a full moon. We may even hear the nightingales.’

‘La Guardia?’ Kate asked. ‘Isn’t that an airport?’

‘It means The Lookout. It’s the highest point of our land you can reach without mountaineering equipment.’ She laughed, but her enthusiasm for their evening walk sounded forced. Kate thought perhaps she was trying to get some time with her away from Mario. ‘From there you can see halfway to Florence. It’s wonderful at night.’

‘Sounds good to me,’ said Kate. ‘I’ll get my jacket.’

‘And some sensible shoes,’ warned Mario. He turned to Simona, ‘Don’t forget to tell Dino.’

‘Oh, he’ll be safely tucked up in the kitchen drinking grappa till midnight.’

‘Best tell him anyway,’ said Mario. ‘To be on the safe side.’

‘What does Dino have to do with it?’ asked Kate. The notion that Signora Bertoni’s round-faced escort needed to be told of their plans made her uncomfortable.

‘It is his job to patrol the grounds at night,’ explained Mario. ‘A remote place like this attracts all kinds of undesirables. You cannot be too careful.’

‘Are you coming, Mario?’ Simona asked him casually. ‘Or do you want to get home?’

‘Oh yes, I’ll come,’ said Mario. He smiled. ‘I haven’t been to the Lookout at night for months.’ If Simona was disappointed by his decision, she was careful not to show it.

They assembled at the back of the house. Simona had brought a torch, but didn’t use it. The moon, a few days away from full, had risen some time before and, once their eyes had adjusted to the outdoors, the path was clearly defined as it wound between boulders and outcrops of rock on the way to the summit. The cool air was still sweet with the fragrance of dry leaves. Far off, beyond distant hills, thunder rumbled, a harmless reminder of the coming winter storms.

They walked in single file, Simona leading the way and Mario bringing up the rear. After the warmth of the day, Kate was surprised how quickly the temperature had dropped. The air was chill against her cheeks. It was refreshing, clearing her head which was muzzy from the champagne and the wine they had drunk with dinner.

The path climbed steeply. Soon they were looking down on the lights of La Rocca and, half a mile further down the hillside, the glow in the trees that showed the location of the Villa Beatrice. From this angle and in the darkness La Rocca’s origins as a medieval stronghold were sharply outlined. Already the view was stupendous. They were only an hour’s drive from Florence, but they could have been in a different world. On all sides were steep wooded hills, and in the valley below lay the river like a curve of silver rope. Kate had been in cities so long she’d forgotten how spectacular the night sky is away from the pollution caused by urban lights. She paused for a moment to catch her breath and marvelled at the sheer bigness of sky and landscape.

‘It’s good, isn’t it?’ said Mario, coming up behind her in the darkness. For the first time, his voice sounded almost friendly.

‘Wonderful.’

She had lost sight of Simona, striding ahead of them, confident and at home on the uneven mountain path. While she and Mario were gazing up at the stars, Simona vanished behind an outcrop of rock a little way ahead, so they never saw exactly what happened next.

There was a piercing scream and the rattle of small stones. Then silence.

‘Simona!’ Kate called out. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Simona!’ Mario’s voice behind her was ragged with fear.

Kate began running up the path but Mario was faster, pushing past her in his urgency.

They rounded the corner. A pale shape beside the path a little way ahead moved slightly. Then Simona struggled to her feet. ‘It’s okay,’ she said, brushing grit from her trousers. ‘No bones broken.’

‘Are you sure?’ asked Mario. ‘My God, Simona, you could have been… You must be more careful. You know how dangerous that corner is.’ He was helping Simona to her feet, fussing and scolding. There was nothing phoney about his concern this time. To Kate’s ears it sounded very much like the panic you only really feel for those you love. She would have given a lot, right then, to know the precise nature of their relationship.

Alerted by the anxiety in his voice, Kate looked down beyond the small patch of rough ground where Simona had fallen. A few stunted bushes, a small boulder… and after that the ground plunged dizzyingly down. A sheer drop of hundreds of metres. A small stone, loosened by her foot, bounced down and down and then vanished into the void. She never heard it hit the bottom. Kate stepped back, suddenly feeling sick.

You could have been killed
was the meaning behind Mario’s words, but all he said was, ‘You should have worn proper shoes.’

‘Don’t fuss,’ said Simona. ‘We’re nearly there.’

But she was limping badly as they made their way, cautiously now, along the final fifty metres of track to the Lookout. Kate found herself on a small oval of ground just below the summit. It was well worth the climb. Up here you got that top-of-the-world sensation; Kate felt that if she stretched out her arms she could almost brush her hands against the stars.

They stood in silence for a while. La Rocca and Villa Beatrice lay on the far side of the mountain. From here, though the view stretched for miles, few lights were visible. Kate, whose image of Italy was all of cities and paintings and cultivated land, was taken aback by the wildness of the scene.

‘How do you like it?’ Simona had hobbled over to a seat carved into the rock.

‘It’s fantastic,’ said Kate. ‘I can’t think why Francesca never showed me this.’

‘The path didn’t exist back then,’ Simona explained. ‘We did once clamber up here but there was hell to pay when the adults found out what we’d been doing. I got the men to make this route a few years back.’

Mario emerged from the shadow of the rock where he’d been standing in silence and crouched down beside Simona, cradling her foot in his hands. ‘You’re bleeding,’ he said.

‘Am I?’ Simona peered curiously at her leg. A thread of blood was trickling over her ankle.

‘Look.’ His voice was full of angry concern. Still holding her foot, Mario rolled her trouser leg back to reveal a deep gash. Kate felt a sudden gust of sexual attraction, a deep tug of memory. One night, long ago, a young doctor had taken her foot in his hands, just so, and rubbed her flesh to warm it. And then… was it present attraction she was experiencing now, or was it just the echo of remembered desire?

‘Damn,’ said Simona. ‘These shoes will be ruined.’

‘Never mind the shoes,’ said Mario. ‘Flex your toes. That’s right. And does it hurt when I—?’ Simona’s yelp of pain was all the answer he needed. ‘This needs a dressing. We’re going back to the house.’

‘But we only just got here.’

‘And now we’re leaving.’

‘But Kate—’

‘Kate can stay if she wants to but I’m taking you back to La Rocca.’

Simona protested some more but Mario was adamant.

‘I’ll follow in a few minutes,’ said Kate as Mario helped Simona to stand. Perhaps it was the effect of the moonlight, but her face did look very pale.

‘Have my torch,’ said Simona. ‘There’s only one way down, so… are you sure you’ll be okay?’

‘I’ll be fine.’

‘Just follow the path.’

‘Don’t worry about me.’

Mario put his arm round Simona’s waist and they walked away slowly, still muttering with intimate crossness to each other, like some long-married couple. Kate’s curiosity was growing. Simona had mentioned that Mario had a wife, but that was all Kate knew.

She heard their voices fade as they vanished behind an outcrop of rock, Mario gently fussing while Simona protested that she was fine. Then silence. Kate settled back to enjoy herself. It was years since she’d been alone in such a beautiful and lonely spot.

But as soon as their voices vanished, the darkness sprang alive with tiny sounds. There was a dry rustling in the bushes below where she was sitting, then a small movement over gravel that might have been a slithering… Kate had no idea what creatures lived on a hilltop such as this. Were there snakes? Wild boar? Were there wolves?

The hair on the back of her neck was moving, as though someone’s hand was hovering just inches away, or as though a breeze was passing, but even at this height the night air was utterly still. From far below in the valley came a sharp scream: something weak falling prey to a stronger foe.

Kate reminded herself she was here to listen out for nightingales. She looked up at the stars and tried to recognize the constellations. Something scuffled in the rocks behind her head.