Angels of the Flood (37 page)

‘Why? For God’s sake, Simona, what’s all this about?’

‘I promise I’ll tell you, but you must stay here at least until they come back. Please, Kate, just a little longer.’

‘Get down then and we can talk about it.’

‘You have to promise first.’

For a moment, Kate was tempted to walk away and wash her hands of Simona and her whole crazy family. Look what had happened when she fell for Francesca’s game all those years ago. Ten to one, if she had the courage to call Simona’s bluff, she would climb down and try some less dramatic means of persuasion. But there was always the chance she meant it, and it was a chance Kate didn’t dare to take.

‘Okay,’ she agreed reluctantly. ‘I’ll stay until they get back.’

‘Promise?’

‘I promise. Now, for God’s sake, get down.’

Simona smiled. She spread her arms out like wings, raised her shoulders and tilted her face towards the sun, then stood without moving for a couple of seconds, poised like a bird about to take flight. Kate had stopped breathing, terrified of what was coming. Simona turned and sprang lightly down onto the terrace.

‘You bloody fool!’ Kate shouted at her. ‘You could have been killed.’

‘I had to make you stay.’

‘Well, here I am.’ Kate was shaking. ‘You want to talk to me? Well then, talk. I’m listening.’

‘But not here. Let’s go somewhere we won’t be overheard.’

‘Oh no, that wasn’t part of the deal. We’re staying here until David and Mario get back and then I’m leaving, no matter what crazy stunts you pull. So if there’s anything you want to say to me, I suggest you say it right now.’

‘How can we talk if you’re angry?’

‘That’s your problem, not mine.’

‘Oh, Kate, I didn’t mean to give you a fright.’

This statement was so blatantly untrue, Kate didn’t even bother giving her an answer. She sat down on the edge of a wicker chair and stared at Simona without saying a word. If Simona wanted to talk, then let her talk. So far as Kate was concerned she was just passing the time till David and Mario returned, and she could leave.

Simona sighed, then sat down on a chair facing Kate’s, reached out to pick up her coffee cup, then set it down again. Frowning, she gazed across at Kate and said, ‘Did you ever go to the circus when you were a child?’

‘What?’ Simona’s ability to come out with the unexpected never ceased to amaze her. ‘Simona, for God’s sake, why don’t you just come to the point?’

‘I remember the first time I went,’ Simona ignored her question. ‘It was when we were living in the States so I must have been about six or seven. There were tigers and elephants, but the thing I remember most was the trapeze act. Right up at the top of the tent, those girls in their spangly costumes had white plumes in their hair just like circus ponies. There were two little platforms and swings hanging from the middle and those men with the huge arms who hung upside down by their legs and held on to the girls so strongly as they swung back and forth under the big top, and then right at the furthest point of the arc the men released them and they flew like birds, beautiful white birds—they didn’t have safety ropes in those days—those girls just flew and then right at the last minute when you thought they were going to go too far and they’d fall and be killed, just in time, the other men caught them. It was all timing, of course, timing and trust. I learned then that you can’t let go and fly unless you’ve got a catcher waiting on the other side, a catcher you can trust absolutely.’

She paused. She was watching Kate to see how she reacted to this, her eyes like green lamps, waiting. Kate didn’t speak.

Simona said, ‘You’re my catcher, Kate. I can’t fly unless you’re there for me.’

There was silence. Kate was still fuming at the way Simona had bludgeoned her into agreeing to stay, and had no intention of making this easy for her, but all the same, curiosity was eroding her anger.

‘So here you both are.’ Annette’s voice broke the silence. Kate and Simona turned almost guiltily towards the doorway as Annette Bertoni emerged onto the terrace on the arm of the ever-smiling Dino. She was wearing a dress of pale flowered crepe, her legs and arms poking out like brittle twigs. Even though walking was obviously difficult for her, she wore precariously heeled sandals. Kate was impressed by her determination to look elegant and feminine in spite of every obstacle of old age.

‘Good morning, Mamma,’ said Simona, as Dino helped her mother into a chair.

‘Good morning dear. And Kate.’ She threw Kate a smile. ‘How was your meal last night?’

‘Fine, thank you,’ said Kate.

Annette nodded. She seemed perfectly lucid this morning. ‘Did you try the
cinghiale,
Kate? Giulio is famous for his wild boar.’

‘I had the veal.’

‘Ah yes, a good choice.’ Annette had settled in her chair and was fanning herself with her magazine. ‘The
cinghiale
is too heavy for this thundery weather.’ She turned to Simona. ‘Dino is going into town this morning to pick up my watch. Do you want him to get anything for you?’

‘No. I’ll go in myself later.’

Annette spoke to Dino in Italian, and when she was finished, he nodded in silent acknowledgement and then left without a word. A moment later the maid came out with a cup of hot chocolate for Annette.

Simona said, ‘Will you be all right here on your own, Mamma? Kate and I thought we’d go down to the river.’

‘Are you going to swim?’

‘We might do. It would be refreshing.’

‘I’ll probably have a nap,’ said Annette. ‘You two go off and enjoy yourselves.’

Kate couldn’t work out what was odd about this exchange, until she realized that for once Simona and Annette were talking to each other like members of an ordinary family. At La Rocca, she had learned to expect the unusual at all times.

Simona stood up and Kate followed suit, but when they had both gone into the house she said, ‘I told you already, Simona, I’m not going down to the river.’

‘Why not? We can talk down there without being disturbed.’

‘Because I’m leaving as soon as David gets back. There must be somewhere in this house we can talk in private.’

‘Yes, but it’s so stuffy up here and I thought you’d like to see the river.’ Now Simona was looking hurt, as though Kate had rejected some gift.

Kate was on the verge of a retort when the phone rang. While Simona answered it, she went to the front door and watched as Dino climbed into a dark grey Mercedes and drove off slowly away from the house. He was still smiling, even as he drove. As the car disappeared from sight, Kate felt a slight easing of tension. Hardly surprising, she thought wryly: after all, he was the man who’d mistaken her for a rogue wolf and fired at her.

‘That was Mario,’ said Simona as she put down the phone. She seemed nervous. ‘He says they’ve seen Bella Vista but there’s a couple of other places he thought David would like to see.’

‘What is he, an estate agent?’

‘He just likes to be helpful. They’ll be back at lunchtime.’

Briefly, Kate wondered if this whole thing was being set up just to keep her at La Rocca, but then she reminded herself that however paranoid she was, there was no way David was a part of the Bertoni intrigues. And Dino had gone. And it was hot and humid. ‘Okay,’ she said grudgingly, ‘you win. Let’s go down to the river, but you’ll have to lend me a swimsuit. I could use a swim.’

Ten minutes later, Simona drove in her open-top car almost to the bottom of the drive. They parked, then cut through the scrub until they reached the public road, crossed it and followed a path down to a shingle beach. Trees came down to the water on both sides. ‘My sister and I used to come down here when we were teenagers,’ said Simona. ‘It was the only chance we had to get away from everyone. It’s completely private.’

‘Doesn’t anyone else come here to swim?’

‘This is still our land, so they’re not supposed to. The students at the Fondazione always use the pool near the villa, but I guess local people do come here sometimes. Yes, look.’ She stooped and picked up a beer can and a crumpled cigarette packet. ‘What pigs people are.’

The beer can and the cigarette packet were the only signs of life. Apart from the occasional car passing unseen along the road above them, there was nothing but sparse birdsong and the swiftly moving river—no houses, apart from La Rocca and the Villa Beatrice, for miles around. Both sides of the river were densely wooded. It was beautiful, but also, Kate thought, claustrophobic.

They were standing side by side looking across the river when Simona said quietly, ‘She always seems very close to me here. That’s why I wanted you to come.’

Kate shivered. Some spirit in this secret spot made her uneasy. She slipped off her shoes, went to sit on a boulder a little distance away and dipped her feet in the water. It was icy cold and the ripples made her feet look pale and distorted.

Simona followed and crouched down close by. She said, ‘I came down here a lot when I was planning the Fondazione. For years I’d been wondering what to do with my uncle’s money—I wanted to use it in a way she would have approved of. I haven’t said this to anyone before, but you were her friend, Kate, so you’ll understand. She’s been by my side through the whole enterprise; I could never have achieved what I did without her help.’

‘Why do you have to put yourself down?’ asked Kate. ‘The Fondazione was your idea and you had the courage and the vision to set it up. No one else did that.’

‘But I couldn’t have done it on my own.’

‘Well, I expect Mario was a help. But the whole thing was your baby.’

‘Was it?’ Simona picked up a small pebble and threw it into the river. ‘I’m not so sure about that. Sometimes it feels as though, when my sister died, a part of me died too and a part of her became me. Or some of me became her. As though our spirits merged and instead of being two people we’re now one.’

Kate looked at her to see if she was joking. Her heart sank: Simona was totally sincere. She sighed and said, ‘Simona, that’s not how it happens.’

‘How can you be sure? I know that when she died I stopped being just me, just a single person, and became me and her together. That’s why I named the Fondazione after her, so both our names would have equal prominence.’

‘But that’s not right, Simona. You were the one with the idea and you put it into practice. You should take the credit for what you’ve achieved.’

‘But why shouldn’t she have some of the credit too?’

Kate didn’t answer. Simona was so determined to cling onto the fantasy of her omnipresent sister, trying to reconnect her with reality was an impossible task. She said, ‘I’m going in for a swim.’

‘I’ve brought you a swimsuit.’

‘Don’t bother.’

Kate found she was reluctant to borrow anything belonging to Simona and besides, this patch of river was completely private. She stripped quickly down to her pants and walked into the water. The pebbles were painful underfoot and as soon as the water was over her knees she crouched down and let the water carry her. It was cold, fast-moving and deliciously refreshing. She plunged her head under the surface but as soon as she emerged, Simona was in the water beside her.

‘Stay on this side,’ Simona warned. ‘The current is fastest under those trees. We can swim upstream to the corner and then let the river carry us back down.’ As Kate began to swim with slow, steady strokes, Simona swam alongside her and said, ‘You remember what Francesca was like, Kate. She was always such an idealist, not like me.’ The current was strong enough to make their progress upstream very slow. Simona stayed close. ‘All I was interested in was clothes and boys and having a good time, not that I had a clue how to do it. She wanted to help people; that’s why she went to Florence. She didn’t care about the dirt and the hardship.’

Kate would have preferred to swim in silence, but this was too much. ‘So?’ she protested. ‘Francesca wasn’t the only one, you know. Hundreds of people went to help out after the flood.’

‘But it was different for her,’ insisted Simona. ‘You saw what the Villa Beatrice was like. And our childhood wasn’t like other people’s. We never even went to school. No one ever expected us to do any kind of work, let alone working in mud and filth and all the rest of it. All our family ever thought about was money and keeping up appearances, but Francesca wasn’t like them. She had ideals!’

Kate realized that Simona’s teenage hero-worship for Francesca had been frozen by the tragedy of her early death. Had she lived, Simona would no doubt have come to see her as she was. Instead, the cult of the blessed Saint Francesca was invincible.

‘It wasn’t such a big deal, Simona,’ she said. It was still hard to make any headway against the current, but slowly they were moving away from the shingle beach where they’d left their clothes. ‘Everyone has ideals when they’re twenty. Just because she’d had a privileged upbringing, that didn’t make her any different from everyone else.’ They had reached the bend in the river where the water was so shallow Kate grazed her knees on the pebbles and came to a halt, sitting half submerged as she turned to Simona and said crossly, ‘If Francesca told you it was all heroic self-sacrifice in the Arno mud, then that was just bollocks. She was having the time of her life, same as everyone else.’

‘Are you telling me she didn’t care?’ demanded Simona angrily. ‘Because that’s just not true! She did care, she cared passionately! She wasn’t greedy and selfish and—’

‘Well, she wasn’t bloody Mother Teresa either. Sure she cared about what had happened, everyone did, but she had fun too.’ Simona looked as if she was about to protest again, so Kate went on quickly, ‘And if you really want to know the truth, half the time she was a right royal pain in the butt.’

Simona gasped. ‘What do you mean?’

Kate hesitated. She’d never meant to put Francesca down, but what the hell, if Simona was burdened with some crushing posthumous inferiority complex, then maybe Kate was doing her a favour by injecting a dose of reality into her memories. ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ she said vaguely. ‘It was little things mostly. She just had trouble fitting in with everyone else. She took it all too seriously. I guess it was her upbringing, I don’t know.’