Angels of the Flood (36 page)

‘In that case,’ said Mario, apparently delighted to be of help, ‘I know just the place for you. It belongs to a friend of mine whose husband died recently and she’s eager to sell. They were planning to renovate it, but have only got as far as making a beautiful property look like a building site, so it will sell for much less than its real value.’ And he went on to describe a place that was potentially idyllic, with fine views and old stone walls. ‘I can take you to see it tomorrow, if you like,’ said Mario.

Kate could see that David was tempted. Already he was imagining a new life among whispering cypresses and ancient terraces. She said quickly, ‘Sorry, Mario, but we’re leaving tomorrow.’

‘Oh, you can’t go so soon.’ Simona, who was sitting next to her, seemed to snap out of her reverie. ‘We’ve hardly had any chance to talk yet.’

And whose fault is that? Kate wanted to ask. But all she said was, ‘We can talk whenever you want, Simona.’

Mario looked anxious, but he still seemed determined to be helpful. He said, ‘If I show David my friend’s house in the morning, you can still leave tomorrow if you want to. Would you like me to arrange it?’

‘Why not?’ said David.

‘Great,’ said Simona. ‘That means Kate and I will have the morning together.’

Kate felt uneasy at the prospect of being left behind at La Rocca with Simona and her mother. There was security in David’s company. If he was determined to go house-hunting with Mario, then she would go too. ‘If you really want to see it,’ she said, ‘I’ll come as well.’

Simona was disappointed, but, ‘We’ll all go,’ she said.

‘Excellent,’ said Mario.

‘What’s the house called?’ asked David.

Mario laughed. ‘Not a very original name, I’m afraid—Bella Vista. But that can always be changed by the new owner.’

‘Isn’t changing names unlucky?’ asked Kate.

‘Only the names of boats,’ said David. ‘It’s all right with houses.’

‘Have you ever thought of changing your name, Kate?’ Simona asked her, and when Kate said that no, she’d never given it much thought so she supposed she must have always been quite happy with her name, Simona looked baffled. ‘I
hate
my name,’ she said. ‘I’ve always wanted to change it.’

‘Then why don’t you?’ Kate asked.

Mario was sitting opposite Simona. Now he reached across the table, took her hand in his and said gently, ‘But you have a beautiful name, Simona. It suits you so well.’ He smiled and, still holding her hand, he recited: ‘“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet,” Simona Bertoni.’

Simona snatched her hand away. Suddenly she was shaking with rage that seemed to have sprung from nowhere, out of all proportion. ‘Damn you, Mario Bassano! God damn you to hell!’

His eyes darkened and he leaned back in his chair.
‘Piano, mia cara,’
he said quietly. ‘Easy does it. Don’t repeat the Florida mistake.’

This time she recoiled as though she’d been hit. ‘Why do you have to bring that up?’ she whispered.

‘Sometimes shock tactics work best,’ he said.

‘Florida?’ David asked.

Mario raised his eyebrow and looked at Simona, as if daring her to explain. Kate wished David hadn’t asked; she had a feeling he was playing directly into Mario’s hands, and whatever was going on, it made her extremely uncomfortable, the way watching the powerless baited by those stronger is always painful. But why did she think of Simona as powerless? Puzzled, she said, ‘David, leave it. It’s none of our business.’

Simona jutted her chin in the air. ‘Oh, but I’m sure you’d be amused by the story.’ Her voice was sharpened by pain. ‘It was really extremely entertaining. Mario and I were staying in a hotel in Florida and I tried to kill him, that’s all. Isn’t that hilarious?’ No one spoke. She said in a low voice, ‘And oh God, oh God, oh God, how I wish I’d succeeded!’

‘That must be why you tried again in Guatemala,’ said Mario coolly.

‘Was that the second or the third time?’ asked Simona. ‘It was all so long ago the details get muddled sometimes.’

‘No, the third time was in Mysore.’

‘That’s right. I remember now. All that meditation obviously didn’t produce the right results, eh?’ Simona seemed to be struggling to pretend it was all a macabre joke.

David sloshed some more wine in his glass and turned to Mario. ‘Really kill?’ he asked. ‘As in ending up dead?’

‘Oh yes, they were serious attempts. Simona has never been one to do anything by halves, have you, Simona? If the knives in these foreign hotels were sharper, I wouldn’t be here today to tell the tale. I’d show you the scars, only the other diners would not appreciate the exhibition.’

Simona was shaking. ‘The worst scars don’t show on the outside,’ she said in a voice so low that only Kate could hear.

David looked across at Simona as though she’d taken the day off from a travelling freak show and asked lightly, ‘Any particular reason for the homicidal streak, Simona, or were you just having a bad hair day?’

‘Stop it, David! Stop being so bloody insensitive,’ Kate intervened angrily. She was sickened by the way the two men were taking pleasure in winding Simona up. She couldn’t understand why David had suddenly turned against their hostess. ‘This is none of our business, and anyway, I don’t find it the least bit amusing.’ As soon as she had finished speaking she knew her outburst had only reinforced the bonds between the two men. They exchanged a furtive all-women-are-irrational smile.

David said tightly, ‘Then perhaps you’d like to choose a more suitable topic for us to discuss, Kate.’ Clearly, he was furious at being reprimanded in public.

Mario said, ‘You’re right, Kate. Simona and I should not wash our dirty linen in public. Isn’t that so, Simona?’

Simona looked at him. She raised the back of her hand to her eyes, like someone brushing away imaginary cobwebs, and said heavily, ‘You know, Mario, you pollute the air with your poisons. It gets hard even to breathe around you.’

The smile faded from his face and he shrugged. ‘I am sorry if you find my company uncongenial,’ and to Kate’s amazement there was real hurt behind his words. Somewhere in the last few seconds, Simona had gained the upper hand. Kate had no idea what had tipped the balance of power between them, but she knew more surely than ever that she and David were spectators in a drama that had a long and convoluted history.

Not surprisingly, conversation during the rest of the meal was strained. When the waiter asked if anyone wanted dessert or coffee, they all quickly said they’d had enough, each one of them equally eager to bring the evening to an end. They hardly talked at all on the journey back to La Rocca where Mario dropped them off. Simona went straight into the house without inviting him in.

As soon as Mario had driven off in the darkness down the winding drive, Simona relaxed. They were standing in the hall, under the modern abstract painting of angels that Simona had pointed out to Kate the day before. This evening, under artificial light, the grey veils of paint seemed more ghostly and mysterious than ever. ‘How about a drink?’ she said to Kate. She had shaken off her fatigue and was suddenly all energy. Standing there, Kate realized she was in no mood for the ‘conversation’ Simona had been building up to all this time. After her sleepless night and the tensions of the day, she was shattered. Besides, there’d been too many hints of her mental fragility. The ‘homicidal streak’ that Mario and David had discussed so mockingly at supper might have been an exaggeration, but the woman was clearly unstable. Yet in spite of everything, over the past twenty-four hours Kate had grown fond of her. Partly that was loyalty to Francesca’s memory, partly admiration at the achievement of the Fondazione. She promised herself that in the morning she would talk to Simona seriously about the undervalued paintings; perhaps, after all, this practical assistance was the best she could offer.

‘I’m all in,’ she told her.’ ‘Let’s talk in the morning.’

‘Are you sure?’ Simona looked disappointed.

David said, ‘I wouldn’t mind a nightcap, if you want someone to keep you company.’

Kate looked at him in surprise. What was he playing at? But Simona merely gestured in the direction of the main drawing room. ‘Help yourself,’ she said, then yawned ostentatiously. ‘You’ll find everything you want in there. I think I’ll turn in as well, Kate. These gala days always take it out of me.’

She followed Kate up to the first floor, leaving David alone in the hall. At the top of the stairs their ways parted, since Simona’s room was at the opposite end of the house from Kate’s, but Simona followed her to her door. Kate noticed that Simona’s footsteps were kitten quiet on the thick rugs.

‘Do you have everything you need, Kate?’

‘Yes, thank you.’ It could have been Simona standing outside her door the previous night. She knew there had been someone. Why had David chosen to stay below? Was he angry because she’d told him off in the restaurant? She wished he was up here with her, because she realized she didn’t trust Simona—didn’t trust her at all.

‘Are you sure?’ Simona was spinning this out for as long as she could.

‘Quite sure. And now I really am tired, Simona, I’m going to bed.’

‘Yes, of course.’ But somehow, when Kate went into her bedroom, Simona had slipped in beside her. She looked about her as if it were a place they were both visiting for the first time. ‘This is a fine room, isn’t it?’

‘It’s great. And now—’

‘I love this Sisley, don’t you? Mario wanted me to sell it a few years ago, we needed the money for something, I can’t remember what it was, but I couldn’t bear to part with it. It’s the light that makes it so dramatic’

‘Yes.’ Kate was about to start undressing, but with Simona still standing there, she felt inhibited. Heavy footsteps sounded on the landing and David came into the room. He swayed slightly, his dark brows ferocious as he glowered at Simona.

She said, ‘Oh well, I’d better be going to bed. Goodnight.’

‘Goodnight,’ said Kate as Simona hurried from the room. David said nothing until the door was closed behind her.

‘Fucking rude,’ he said thickly.

‘What is?’

‘Asking you to have a drink with her, then saying she was going to bed so she didn’t have to stay and talk to me. Fucking bloody rude.’

‘David, you’re drunk.’

‘So what if I’m bloody drunk? I can’t stand bad manners. Just because she’s got this place and all those bloody bigwigs telling her how amazing she is doesn’t mean she can get away with treating me like dirt.’

‘For God’s sake, David. If I remember rightly, you were doing your best to wind her up back there in the restaurant. Christ only knows what’s going on in this place, but the last thing Simona needs is someone making fun of her.’

Their argument escalated from there into a bitter, pointless row. It was the first real one they’d had. Kate had always hated rows. Exhausted as she was, all she could think about as she fell into a deep and troubled sleep was that in the morning she could escape this place for ever.

I
T WAS PRECISELY THE
scenario Kate had wanted to avoid.

‘Didn’t David tell you?’ said Simona. ‘He and Mario left for Bella Vista ten minutes ago.’

‘But we were all supposed to go!’ said Kate.

‘He said you’d changed your mind,’ Simona told her, ‘so I thought I’d stay back and keep you company.’

‘Hell.’ Kate was appalled. The memory of her first night at La Rocca was still too fresh in her mind for her to relish being left there with Simona, Annette Bertoni and the mysterious Dino. She’d been relying on David. Needless to say, he hadn’t told her he was going off alone with Mario. Either this was his way of punishing her for their unresolved row last night, or maybe he just preferred not having her along.

Simona looked delighted with the way things had turned out. She was sitting on the terrace overlooking the valley, a huge cup of coffee cradled in her hands. The sky was milky white and the air was sultry. Kate crossed over and sat on the balustrade and looked down at the curve of the river far below: it seemed a cruel irony that the place she least wanted to be right now was one of the most spectacular places she’d ever been in. All the same, her immediate instinct was to phone for a taxi and leave at once.

‘If I’d have known you were so keen to see the property,’ said Simona sweetly, ‘I’d have made them wait.’

Kate didn’t believe her. She wouldn’t have been surprised if Simona had planned the whole thing. Just the thought was enough to increase her discomfort. She came to a decision. She could tell Simona about the undervalued paintings just as easily in a letter. ‘Look, Simona, would you order me a taxi, please? There must be someone locally who would drive me to Florence.’

‘But what about David?’

‘He can follow when he wants.’

‘What’s the hurry?’ Simona looked baffled.

‘That’s my business. Look, I don’t want to be rude, Simona, but I’d like to leave right away.’

‘You can’t!’ Simona had come to stand beside her. ‘We haven’t had a chance to talk yet.’

‘We can talk while I’m waiting for my taxi.’

‘But that won’t be enough time.’

‘For Christ’s sake, Simona!’ Kate had run out of patience. ‘If there’s something you want to say to me, then either say it now or put it in a letter.’

‘Kate, you mustn’t go!’

‘I’ve made up my mind.’

Simona caught hold of her sleeve, but Kate shook her off roughly and went back towards the French doors that led into the house. Just as she was about to step into the gloom of the house, there was a cry. ‘I
won’t
let you go!’

She turned. Horrified, she said, ‘Christ, Simona, what the hell are you playing at?’

‘This is for real, Kate.’ Simona spoke in a low, sure voice. She had climbed up onto the parapet and was outlined against the white haze of the sky. ‘The moment you walk through that door, I promise you, I’ll jump.’ Kate’s heart plummeted with dread. An image of Francesca on the bridge over the Arno flashed into her mind.

‘Stop being such a bloody fool.’

‘I mean it, Kate. If you go now, I’ve got nothing to lose.’