The Villa (50 page)

Then he pushed him away. ‘Go,’ he said. ‘Don’t come back. It is over.’

Giovanni half fell, half stumbled out of the studio.

‘Tonino …’

He looked at her. ‘Are you hurt?’ In a few steps he had reached her.

Her breath caught. How nearly she had lost him. And then he pulled her into his arms.

Tess removed the top half of her wetsuit, slung a towel around her and made Tonino sit down while she bathed his face. Fortunately, his wetsuit had protected his body, so his wounds weren’t as bad as she’d thought. Then she held the waterproof bag while Tonino removed the earthenware pot.

She took it from him. ‘It is heavy,’ she agreed. ‘Shall we look inside?’

Gingerly, he began to towel his hair. It hung in tendrils over his forehead and neck. ‘It is why we brought it here,’ he said, a gleam in his eye. ‘Why we have gone to so much trouble, you and I.’

‘OK.’ The pot was the colour of faded terracotta and the lid seemed to be crusted on – with glue, salt or just with old age perhaps. In the end, Tonino had to work at it with his diving knife to free it.

‘Please.’ He gestured to Tess to do the honours.

She was holding her breath, she realised. She breathed out and pulled off the lid with a flourish. They peered inside. Weird. Inside the pot was another pot. ‘Like Russian dolls,’ she said. Carefully she eased the second pot out. It was old and fragile, the top of it a shallow cup.

‘Some sort of Greek urn,’ said Tonino.

‘Is this
Il Tesoro
?’ Tess couldn’t help but feel disappointed. She had expected … Well, something more.

‘Perhaps.’ He shrugged, but she could see he felt the same.

‘What else did you pick up?’ she asked him, remembering how he’d stooped to retrieve something from the shelf of the cavern.

‘Ah yes.’ He dug it out of his pocket.

It was a ring. They both peered at it. Maybe a wedding band, Tess thought.

Tonino fetched some cleaning fluid from a cupboard and a rag. He took it from her and polished it gently. Gradually the scrolled initials ELS were revealed. ‘So … ’ he breathed.

This time the understanding was simultaneous and mutual. ‘Giovanni’s grandfather?’ they said together. ‘Ettore Sciarra?’

It made sense. Enzo’s friendship with Tess’s grandfather would make it likely that he shared the secret of the whereabouts of the treasure. So … What if he tried to get to
Il Tesoro
before Tonino’s grandfather had the chance? What if he sent his brother Ettore down there – but Ettore couldn’t get out again? He could have run out of air, he could have fallen; maybe he was even trapped by the original rockfall; retreated to the cave and eventually died of starvation. Whatever. When Ettore didn’t come back from his mission, Enzo must have known, or guessed the truth. He had lost his brother, but that wouldn’t stop a man like Enzo Sciarra putting it about that someone else was responsible for his death.

Tonino picked up the old Greek vase and examined it more closely. It had a handle in the form of a lion flanked by snakes and was certainly beautiful in its own right. Still … ‘He must have wanted it very much,’ he said. ‘They all did.’

And you? Did you too want it so much? Tess wondered. ‘But your family found it first,’ she murmured.

He raised an eyebrow. ‘What do you mean, Tess?’

‘Luigi.’ But he still looked confused, so she explained her theory.

‘Ah.’ He held the casket at arm’s length. ‘That could explain a great deal.’ He frowned. ‘I wonder if my grandfather knew it was Luigi’s treasure. Perhaps he did …’

‘Maybe he would have asked Edward Westerman about it,’ Tess chipped in, ‘when he got back from England after the war. If he’d been able to locate it from its original hiding place, that is.’

‘Maybe.’ Tonino felt the weight of the casket. ‘It is so heavy. I wonder … ’

He laid it gently on the table, sideways, and she could see immediately that on the underside there was a ridge. He jiggled it a bit and it moved, just a fraction. They shared a quick, complicit glance. There was more to this than they’d thought. Tonino jiggled it a bit more, until finally it shifted and opened. The larger part of the urn, under the shallow cup, must be hollow. And filled with …?

He let the contents spill out on to the table.

Tess gasped. Old bronze coins decorated with images of horses and grapevines, Greek warriors, doves, serpents … She ran her fingers through them, awestruck. Some coins felt thick and heavy, some were fragile as a dry leaf. The decorations were blunted with age but still clear; the edges uneven but true. Gold leaves, medallions and finger rings; she picked
up an oval ring embossed with the image of an old man, bent and leaning on a stick with a dog who appeared to be leading the way. The picture was so complex, the work so delicate … A narrow gold armband, the thinnest of jewelled hairpins, golden spiral earrings and decorated pendants – one of a boy on a dolphin, another of a naked woman.

‘It’s fabulous,’ said Tess. ‘Just fabulous.’

Tonino let the ancient coins and the golden jewellery slide through his fingers. ‘And what do we find hidden inside,’ he said, as if to himself. He raised an eyebrow at Tess. ‘
Il Tesoro
, I presume,’ he said.

Tess had been looking forward to this moment for weeks – and at times it had seemed impossible that it would come. But now they were here in Cetaria – Muma, Dad and Ginny. They had come for a holiday and the plan was that Tess would return with them to England until Ginny left for Australia. After that …

‘What finally persuaded you to come back?’ Tess asked her mother.

The four of them were sitting at a high raised table in the
baglio
restaurant on the other side of the old stone fountain.

‘It was time.’ Her mother’s lined face was weary but flushed with excitement. Carefully, she extracted a thick red leather-bound notebook from her bag and laid it on the table by her side plate.

‘Aha,’ said Ginny, who was sitting opposite, though she didn’t elaborate further. Her plane tickets for Australia were already bought, the visas sorted. She and Becca had it all planned – she’d been telling Tess this afternoon on the way from the airport. The hostels and the fruit-picking, the stay in David’s house in Sydney.

David … That was another thing. She hadn’t yet had a chance to ask Ginny much about David. But she sensed that
David had entered her daughter’s life at a good time. Not the right time – that would have been when Ginny was born. But a good time – when Ginny was floundering. Tess smiled to herself. Perhaps meeting another flounderer (or should that be flounder?) had helped her daughter. Perhaps it was unreasonable even to expect a girl of eighteen – especially in this world of multiple choice – to know what she wanted to do with her life? Tess was pretty sure that at thirty-nine, she’d only just decided.

‘So tell us more about your plans, love,’ her father said on cue.

Tess managed to tear her gaze from the red leather-bound notebook. They had already discussed her plans for Villa Sirena – Muma walking round room to room with this look on her face – as if she couldn’t quite believe she was here, seeing it all again, the villa of her childhood. Once they all left at the end of the week the renovation project would begin in earnest, and the next time Tess came to Cetaria it would hopefully be complete and ready to go. Thank you, David, thought Tess. Because it was his money – minus what she would be giving to Ginny – that was paying for it.

‘Is it just like you remembered?’ Tess had asked her, catching hold of her mother’s arm. There had been a bad few minutes when Muma had seen the ruin that used to be her family’s cottage, but Tess had prepared her for that, and in a way it was the mermaid’s villa, the grand villa of her mother’s childhood which resonated with her more.

‘No,’ her mother said. ‘And yes.’

Tess had laughed. She knew exactly what she meant. Memory was a strange creature. It was selective and it could play strange unexpected tricks. Sometimes it was impossible to untangle what had really happened from what you had wanted to happen, what you had dreamed of happening and what you had been told had happened. And yet you thought you knew …

‘Well, there’s all the B&B stuff obviously,’ Tess told them now.

She and Ginny had talked long and hard about how Ginny would feel about her mother being based in Sicily – at least for a while. Would Australia work out for her? Would she end up spending more time with her father? Or would she go back to the UK sooner than she expected? Even move to Sicily perhaps? None of them had any idea – but they’d cross that bridge when they came to it, Tess had said, trying to be philosophical. She was quite prepared to move back to England if she had to – she would let out the house in Pridehaven so that she could reclaim it if need be. It was hard not knowing when she’d see her daughter again, but she wouldn’t stand in her way. She had learnt to give her space; to be there and yet let go, she realised. ‘I love you, Mum,’ Ginny had said. ‘And I’ll miss you. But … ’

‘This is something you have to do.’ Tess nodded. And she was proud. They were strong again. And Ginny had embarked on her own journey now.

‘I’ll probably get in some domestic help when I can
afford it,’ Tess continued. But to start with, she’d cope alone. ‘I’m going to learn the language. And I’m planning to start up a diving centre.’ Cetaria was so rich underwater that it was screaming out for one. And yet no one seemed aware of the potential – not yet anyway. The nearest diving centre was about thirty kilometres away en route to Palermo and the airport. There were hotels and B&Bs in the area – apart from Tess’s – which could accommodate tourists. A diving centre could provide equipment for hire, tuition, underwater photography diving trips and maybe whole scuba-diving holiday packages. Why not? It was ambitious, but it was exciting. And she’d discussed the aims of such a diving centre with Tonino already – to protect the submerged environmental and archaeological heritage of the area.

‘A bit different from the water company, love,’ her father said when she’d finished enthusing. ‘Though they do have something in common.’ They laughed. ‘Are you up to it?’

‘Of course she is.’ Muma surprised Tess with her emphatic tone. ‘She’s my daughter, is she not?’

Everyone laughed. She’d have to reassure her dad later, Tess thought. He was a worrier and she’d been shocked at the airport to see how old he seemed – his hair surely thinner, his back more bent, his eyes more faded than before. When they’d hugged and she smelt that familiar smell of her childhood, she’d felt like she couldn’t let him go.

‘The fall upset him,’ her mother had whispered to her. ‘It will take a while to heal.’

‘He really hurt himself?’ But they’d told her it was nothing more than a fractured wrist and a few cuts and bruises.

‘His dignity.’ Muma had nodded. ‘Suddenly he knows he is an old man.’

Tess had to turn away then to hide her emotions. She didn’t want them to be old; she didn’t want them to ever leave her.

‘And did you know, my darling,’ Lenny turned to Flavia now, ‘that when our daughter went haring off to Sicily, she would also fall in love?’

Fall in love? Tess blushed.

‘It scared me,’ her mother admitted. She clicked her tongue. ‘Sicily is a seductress.’

Sicily …? Ah, yes. It was true that she’d fallen in love with the place. But more than that – it felt like home.

‘And will you do all this alone, Tessie?’ her father asked her, his eyes wise as ever.

‘We’ll see,’ said Tess. She had seen a fair bit of Tonino since their recovery of
Il Tesoro
, but she couldn’t tell what his intentions might be. Was she – could she ever be – just a friend?

‘And now,’ said Ginny. ‘Tell us about the treasure.’ Her eyes shone.

So Tess launched into the story just as she’d launched into it to Millie a few days after she and Tonino had made their find. Yes, it could be worth a lot of money, yes it was beautiful – gold jewellery and coins, possibly Greek, and yes, it was first discovered by Luigi Amato.

‘But where is it now?’ Millie had asked, her eyes wide and
greedy. Tess knew she was poised, mobile at the ready, eager to let someone know. And she knew which someone it would be.

‘You can tell Giovanni that we no longer have it,’ Tess had told her. ‘So there’s no point in him breaking into the villa again. It isn’t there.’

For the first time since she’d known her, Millie looked uncomfortable. ‘What are you talking about, Tess? Surely you don’t imagine that I—’

Tess laughed. ‘I saw you, Millie. So you’re wasting your breath.’ The day after the dive with Tonino she’d hotfooted it to the hotel, couldn’t wait to tell Millie and Pierro what they’d found. Pierro was away on business, apparently, Millie wasn’t in reception, so she’d gone round to their private rooms. Just as she got there, the door to their apartment had opened and Giovanni came out, looking somewhat rumpled and worse for wear. And as if that wasn’t evidence enough – Tess had dodged behind a potted palm, feeling like a character in a cheap detective movie – Millie had followed him, giggling, and tugging at his arm until he turned to give her the sort of kiss that left Tess in no doubt of their relationship.

It was Millie’s business, she had told herself, taking a different route out of the hotel and back to the
baglio
. But she remembered the lipstick on Giovanni’s collar and she remembered the prolonged lunch with Millie at the hotel the day he’d broken into the villa. And that’s when she realised. Everything she’d ever told Millie … Well, she’d as good as
told Giovanni too. Millie wasn’t her friend – she never had been. She was Giovanni’s mistress, first and foremost. She’d seen Tess with Giovanni at the market, got jealous and decided to befriend her so she could find out what was going on. Then she’d become Giovanni’s spy. It sounded ridiculously melodramatic – but it was true.

Millie had sat back in her chair and regarded Tess coolly. ‘So why are you here?’ she asked. ‘To gloat?’

Tess shook her head. ‘We wanted Giovanni to know that he could finally give up on getting it back.’

Tonino had been adamant about what he wanted to do. ‘
Il Tesoro
never belonged to the Amatos,’ he said. ‘Not truly. And it has only ever caused bloodshed for our family. It belongs to Sicily, and she shall have it.’