Tuscan Termination Read online

  “Oh! Well, a very small glass of wine then, thank you.” She didn’t like drinking wine except at meal times and Bruno looked awkward asking her, as he knew her preferences perfectly well. She thought it would be polite to accept and then wondered why on earth she should want to be polite.

  He disappeared into the throng that was tanking up before the start, and re-emerged a few minutes later grinning triumphantly, holding two glasses aloft.

  “I know the boy behind the counter; he lives next door to me so I got preferential treatment.”

  She thought, “He’s trying too hard. I wonder why.”

  “Cin cin.” They touched glasses and drank their wine.

  “Come on, let’s go up to our box. I hope we haven’t got anyone awful in with us.”

  “God, do you remember last year that awful little man with a cold, who snuffled all through the opera?”

  “Well it can’t happen two years running.”

  They handed in their tickets and went up the red-carpeted stairs to the second floor. They were in box number nine, the one next to the central box. Bruno opened the door and ushered her in. The only occupant rose to his feet and bowed almost imperceptibly. It was Ruggero di Girolamo.

  Miriam Greene watched as Hilary and Bruno entered their box. She had been very annoyed at first to find herself in a more lateral box, as she had forgotten to book until late, but she had found it was rather fun as she was able to have a clear view of others entering their boxes. She trained her opera glasses on them and saw Hilary look discomforted.

  “Stupid cow,” she muttered. That policeman was terribly attractive, and he seemed to think Hilary was too, judging by the way he was looking at her. What was she doing with that boring Bruno? He seemed so worthy. Deadly dull. Miriam toyed with romantic ideas. Perhaps in her next novel, a policeman falling in love with a suspect? Of course it had been done before. It wasn’t new, but then what was? She churned out the same old rubbish year after year, and no one seemed to notice how all her books were, more or less, the same. She sighed and yawned. She shouldn’t have come. She had slept badly the night before and tomorrow night there was the party at the Villa Rosa, which was bound to finish late. Well, she would see what the first act was like and then maybe go home. Damn, she had told Salvatore to bugger off until the end and she had let Assunta have the evening off, so she had probably gone to the cinema or to play tombola at the church hall, a fund raising ruse copied from the Americans.

  The lights dimmed and she turned towards the stage. The curtain rose on a charming, if obscure 18th century opera. The theatre was packed. It was very hot. Miriam, on her own in her box, nodded off within fifteen minutes and began to snore quite loudly. This was extremely audible during the recitatives. Hilary in a box diagonally opposite realised what was happening and nudged Bruno “Miriam is snoring!”

  “Oh my God, so that’s what it is.”

  Di Girolamo smirked in his corner, and Hilary felt that he must think Miriam and, by association her friends, a lot of hobbledehoys. Snoring in a theatre box was appalling. How could Miriam do this? It would have to be stopped. She rose and cautiously opened the door to the box and slid out. She reached Miriam’s box and slipped in beside her. The noise was even worse close to. She shook Miriam’s shoulder, and whispered savagely in her ear, “Wake up!” Miriam opened her eyes and looked bewildered.

  “For God’s sake Miriam, you were snoring,” she whispered urgently. Miriam’s plump face remained blank and she looked so old and feeble that Hilary asked, “Are you alright? Do you feel ill?”

  “No. I’m fine.” She heaved her bulk further up in the chair. Her features came alive again, and she said “I want to go home. I’m too bloody tired to watch this. Besides if it’s been hiding in a drawer for a couple of centuries there must be a reason. Maybe it should have stayed there.” She chuckled and wheezed and threatened to cough, so Hilary took her by the arm and encouraged her to move.

  “Come on out of here before you get thrown out.” All of this was said in a terse whisper. Suddenly the box door opened and Di Girolamo appeared. He took Miriam’s other arm and helped drag her from the box. Miriam looked delighted.

  “Ah” she whispered heavily, “My hero and heroine have met. Wonderful!”

  Then “Get rid of old boring boots. You’ll die of boredom with him.”

  It was at this point, that Hilary realised Miriam had been drinking. She looked at Di Girolamo who was struggling manfully to keep Miriam upright, while moving in the direction of the lift. He appeared not to have realised what the old lady was saying. Hilary said hurriedly, “I’m afraid she’s had a drink or two and she’s tired. We’ll have to get her home. Her driver won’t be back for ages, have you got a car nearby? Mine’s miles away, at home.”

  In box number nine, Bruno and Amanda watched first Hilary, and then Di Girolamo, grappling with Miriam.

  “Should I go too?” whispered Bruno.

  “I shouldn’t bother,” said Amanda, thinking, that if he’d wanted to help he could have done so earlier. Bruno settled down to watch the opera, looking unconcerned.

  In the theatre foyer, Di Girolamo was conferring with a young policeman. Miriam had sat herself on a chair in the bar, and was hopefully waving at a waiter, while Hilary made signals at him not to serve her.

  Ruggero came back to Hilary and said, “I’m taking her home in a police car. Will she be alright when she gets there?”

  “I should think so. She has a housekeeper who sleeps in. Do you want me to come.”

  “I’d love you to, but I think you should stay to watch the opera. I’ll manage alone. Buona sera.” He extended his hand in salutation.

  Hilary shook his hand, but then said “What about you? You’ll miss the Opera”

  He continued holding her hand, and said, “That’s alright. You get back to your box.”

  Hilary nodded and went back to the others. Di Girolamo manoeuvred Miriam into the police car with the help of the young policeman. As they drove her home, she hummed bits of opera music and sang, “plonk, plonk” to mark the end of each bar.

  When they got to her house, it took the two of them to extract her from the car, which she found most amusing. “Salvatore does it on his own,” she informed them. They pushed and pulled her up the steps and got her to the door.

  “Will you be alright?” asked Ruggero.

  “I’m fine, just tired. Thank you very much, you’re a good man, and bloody attractive too,” She chuckled and wheezed alarmingly. “Oh don’t worry about the noise that’s normal for me, ask Hilary she’ll tell you. She’s a lovely girl don’t you think?” she prodded him.

  “Very lovely,” he said to placate her.

  “She’s wasted on Bruno you know. He’s deadly dull.” Di Girolamo stared straight ahead but did not answer her. The other policeman looked bored and wandered back to the car.

  “Where’s your housekeeper? Shall I call her?”

  “No, she’ll be in bed, but I’m fine. I’ll just toddle off to bed like a good girl. Go!” He turned to leave, but she grabbed his arm, and said, “Strike while the iron is hot,” and cackled wheezily at him.

  He watched her open the front door and then left her. He didn’t feel happy about it, but he seemed to have no choice. He wished now that he had accepted Hilary’s offer, but he hadn’t wanted to deprive her of her entertainment, though he thought it would have been interesting to deprive her escort of her company.

  After he had left, Miriam remembered that Assunta was out, and Salvatore was probably playing cards in a bar, whiling away the time till he had to collect her from the theatre.

  “Bugger that,” she muttered and began to climb the stairs. Cherry padded down to meet her. She sat down beside the dog and petted her. Hearing a noise on the landing she bellowed, “Assunta, is that you?”

  After a moment and some more noises, Salvatore appeared on the landing and looked down at her.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” she asked in a bellig
erent tone. He looked menacing standing above her, but she stood up and climbed steadfastly towards him.

  “I had to come back for a call of nature,” he said modestly. “Why are you here so early? Has something happened?” He moved towards her to help her, taking her arm. “Are you alright? You’re not ill are you?”

  “I’m fine. The police brought me home.”

  “The police! I don’t understand.” He stood stock still, gripping her arm rather tightly.

  “They arrested me for snoring in the theatre,” she started laughing and wheezing. In a slightly fuddled way, she was aware that her arm was gripped in a vice-like hold.

  “You fell asleep in the theatre?” He sounded relieved, and loosened his hold.

  “I did, and I snored, so they woke me up and brought me home.”

  They stopped outside her bedroom door.” Goodnight Salvatore, lucky you were here or I might have fallen asleep on the stairs.”

  “Goodnight Signora. Assunta will be back soon, shall I send her to you?”

  “No, no I’m going to bed.”

  She shuffled into the bedroom and as quickly as possible got into bed and lay down. Salvatore was lying, she thought. I don’t know what he was doing but it wasn’t what he said. She was too tired to think anymore. Then she slept.

  CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

  Augusta Fagiolo came out of the church, the only one where early morning mass was celebrated, and muttered to herself as she began the long walk home. Her husband would still be sleeping as she had given him a good dose of tranquilliser last night. She had been increasing his dosage recently and had got another prescription from the doctor by telling him that she had broken the bottle. He had glanced at her gnarled hands and believed her. God would forgive her, it was only a small lie, and she needed time to do God’s work, to fight the evil that was in this town. She trusted no one. She spoke to no one. They all thought she was deranged by her son’s death. She cackled to herself. No she was not mad, but had been chosen by God to point a finger at Satan. Only the pure are chosen. She was keeping herself pure and had decided to fast. She knew her husband would want to do the same, but as he was unable to decide for himself, she had made the decision for him. That was partly why she had increased his medicine, he wasn’t as strong as her now, and needed help. Perhaps God would soon take him to his bosom. He was very weak, and in a sinless state, insofar as any man can be free from sin.

  She arrived home and let herself in. A strong smell of bleach pervaded the house. Everything was spotless. She went into her husband’s bedroom. He lay still, almost as white as the bed linen. She had opened the window before leaving, and the cool morning air had given the room a freshness that she approved of. She smoothed his hair. It was snow white and his pale scalp was visible between the thin strands.

  “The wicked shall be punished,” she said to him, but he slept on.

  She took off her black jacket and headscarf and put them away in the small wooden wardrobe, which had been made by the local carpenter for her marriage. In the mirror she saw a gaunt old woman dressed in black, but for a moment she remembered how she had looked in this mirror as a young bride, never really beautiful but with a certain prettiness and a determined look about her.

  “All is vanity,” she muttered.

  She moved out of the room, closing the door behind her, and went into the kitchen. She opened the door of the credenza, and stooped down to lift the bills to one side. There was a newspaper wrapped around an envelope, which she picked up.

  “God forgive me. I will never look on this instrument of the devil again, but I must warn others of the evil.” Sitting on a chair, she rocked to and fro, murmuring “Evil. Evil. Evil.” She placed the package on the table and then prepared a sheet of paper and a pencil.

  “Thy will be done.” She bowed her head.

  Slowly and carefully she began to write, printing the block capitals in a legible manner. Her hands were painful, but her task was a glorious one. That other instrument of the devil had been struck down, and she knew what God wanted her to do now. She had set aside this photo and not burned it with the others, without knowing why at the time, but all was made clear to her now. She had been chosen to fulfil this task. When she had finished, she placed the letter in the white envelope containing the photograph, and sealed it. She addressed it and put on a higher value stamp than was usual for a letter. At the top she wrote, URGENT. PRIVATE AND PERSONAL. Then she picked up the small bag of rubbish she had prepared earlier and tucked the letter in her black cardigan. She shuffled out of the kitchen door, leaving it slightly ajar and made her way down the Vicolo to the rubbish bins.

  There was the usual mess littered around the big green containers, and someone had stuck a used syringe into a bursting bag on the ground. She placed her own small bag beside it and moved on to the post box on the corner. She looked around her; there was no one in sight. The letter was quickly pulled from her front and posted, then she turned back to the house.

  Alda and Rosaria prepared to leave San Giovanni; Alda was clutching a ‘santino’, a photo of Padre Pio, and felt elated. Marco’s condition was stable and that was enough for her to feel sure that Padre Pio was intervening. She had smelt a wonderful perfume as they approached the sanctuary area, and knew that this was the sign given to the faithful that He would intercede.

  Miriam picked up the phone, “Pronto.”

  “Miriam it’s Hilary.”

  ”Darling, I am so sorry about last night. It was unforgivable.”

  “Are you alright?”

  “Of course I am.”

  “Miriam, I have to tell you that I know you had some booze last night. Now I know you’re going to say it’s none of my business, but you really mustn’t do it, it’s so bad for you.”

  “Yes, I’m afraid I was a bit naughty, but it wasn’t much. Assunta sometimes lets me a have a drop of gin in my tonic, and last night I must have been extra convincing. I wasn’t drunk you know, just very tired. I’d had a foul night, you know, the night before. Anyway last night I slept like a dream, so I shall be in good form for the party.”

  “As long as you’re feeling alright. Dr. Di Girolamo wasn’t very happy about leaving you there alone. He said that you told him Assunta was in, so he felt reassured, but I heard from Pia this morning that she was at the church tombola, so you were alone, and I just wanted to check that you were O.K.”

  “Ah, Dr. Di Girolamo, now there’s a man for you. He said you were a very lovely girl.”

  “That doesn’t sound like him at all. You shouldn’t put words into people’s mouths.”

  “Well, alright, I said it, but he agreed with me.”

  “I’m sure he didn’t have much choice.”

  “My dear, he’s a gentleman.”

  “No doubt.”

  “Well, anyway, you’re obviously not going to give me any satisfaction so let’s leave it. To go back to last night. To tell you the truth, I wasn’t alone. It’s rather strange but Salvatore was here when I got back. I don’t know what he was up to, but I feel sure it wasn’t just a ‘call of nature’ as he so modestly put it. Anyway he helped me up the stairs and I got into bed and fell asleep immediately.”

  “Well what else would he have been doing?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “After all he does live with you, and perhaps he was embarrassed about having to explain his presence to you.”

  “Perhaps. Anyway I’ll see you this evening at the party. Thanks for phoning and don’t fuss so.”

  Amanda came into the kitchen as Hilary was saying good-bye to Miriam.

  “How is she?”

  “Fine. I do worry about her. Also I know you’ll think I’m silly, but I don’t like that couple she’s got living with her. Assunta has a very sly look and Salvatore a very smug one.”

  “She’s happy with them. That’s what counts.” They both started eating their breakfast. “Ma, you know I thought that Dr di Girolamo was quite fascinating.”

  “D
id you dear.” Hilary deliberately kept her voice bland.

  “Well he’s very attractive, and he was very kind with Miriam.”

  “Yes, he was.” Hilary turned a page of her newspaper.

  “I’m surprised Bruno didn’t help.”

  “He doesn’t really get on with Miriam, and actually it’s a good thing he didn’t help, as she was a bit offensive last night.”

  “What did she say?”

  “Oh nothing much, just that he was boring. Anyway it wouldn’t have been very nice for him to hear.”

  “Well I suppose he is a bit. Boring, I mean. He never says much, and he’s fairly predictable.”

  “He’s restful to be with.”

  “Restful is just a kind way of saying boring.”

  “Really Amanda. He isn’t boring, he’s …comfortable.”

  “Comfortable! Maybe you should try something more exciting. I mean you don’t want to marry him, and I think you don’t really love him. It’s hardly a passionate affair now, if it ever was. You shouldn’t stay with someone just because they’re comfortable.”

  “Thank you Amanda, when I need your advice I’ll ask, but it won’t be at breakfast.” She folded her newspaper, and stood up. “I’m going shopping later. Are you lunching in? And if so any special wants, longings, cravings, diets or whatever? I’m willing to spoil you today, as it’s your first day home.”

  “How lovely. Yes I am lunching in; in fact I’m staying around the house all day today. I’m going to sunbathe in the garden and read and laze, and I am longing for grilled pork ribs and Italian sausages, so I suggest a barbecue, just for the two of us.”

  “I see you’re not into healthy food at the moment.”

  “No, I’m not. By the way get some of those lovely soft rolls from the bread van, and we could have a mixed salad with the grilled meat. That’s healthy.”

  “Well as I said, it’s your first day home so I’ll pander to you, but after that you know the rules. You eat what I’m having or do it yourself, and I’ll want to know in advance when you’re going to be in for meals.”