In Another Life, page 17
‘No. Why?’
Annette looked around surreptitiously to make sure they weren’t being overheard.
‘Another dead magistrate,’ she said in a whisper. ‘In Palermo. A car bomb.’
Natalie didn’t understand and her expression must have told Annette so. She dropped her voice even lower.
‘Cosa Nostra,’ she breathed and then, when Natalie still didn’t get it, she mouthed, ‘the Mafia.’
‘Oh.’ Now Natalie understood.
She had heard of the Mafia, had rented The Godfather from Blockbuster’s with her dad back in the day, but she hadn’t thought it was a real thing.
‘Isn’t that just in the films?’ she asked.
Annette shook her head.
‘God no. It’s everywhere,’ she said. ‘All over the island. All over Italy, in fact, but no one talks about it. You know that bakery that had the fire in town?’
Natalie nodded. She had visited the tiny shop with the children in her first week. It was barely more than a hole in the wall with the ovens on view behind the counter but Natalie had been touched by its simplicity, and the bread had been delicious.
‘Burned out,’ said Annette. She spoke with the air of someone for whom knowledge was power.
‘No!’ said Natalie, slack-jawed. ‘Why?’
‘I think it’s usually because they won’t pay for protection but it could be anything. Half the time they are sending a message to someone else entirely. The poor family concerned just gets caught in the crossfire.’
Natalie was lost for words.
‘So, do you know anyone, anyone who’s in it?’ Her words sounded naive, gauche, but she had nothing to draw on to make her seem more streetwise. She knew literally nothing.
Annette shrugged.
‘Probably. Who knows? I learned pretty quick that you don’t talk about it. No one does. You shouldn’t either. If you’ve got questions, ask me. Don’t go to anyone else, just in case.’
This warning felt a little extreme to Natalie. She knew no one in Sicily to ask apart from the people living in Casa Barbieri. Unless that was precisely what Annette was telling her.
‘You don’t mean . . . ?’
Annette shrugged again.
‘Like I say, I know nothing and I want it to stay that way. You should too. No need to get your knickers in a twist about it all, though. It barely touches us here. Just be aware. That’s all I’m saying.’
Natalie heard her name being called. It wasn’t one of the children but the rasping, strongly accented voice of Nonna.
‘Sounds like your presence is required,’ said Annette, tipping her head in the direction of the kitchen.
‘Oh God, do you think I’m in trouble?’ Natalie said, drawing her face down into a comedy grimace. She was only half joking. Nonna was formidable and all this talk of dark forces at work had unsettled her.
‘Best go and see,’ said Annette.
Nonna was standing in the kitchen with the pasta dough in her hand and she waved it at Natalie as she approached. Natalie relaxed. This was to be another cookery lesson and nothing scarier.
Nonna showed her how to roll the pasta out with a pin until it was just the right thickness. Then they spotted it with fried sage leaves, folded it over on itself and ran it through the pasta machine until they had long thin strips of yellow dough, the leaves visible inside like little black fish. Next, Nonna showed her how to measure the space between raviolis with her finger and then she spooned blobs of orangey sweet potato filling on to the pasta, sealed the joints and finally cut them into little squares. Nonna’s were a work of art. Natalie’s were a little wobblier around the edges but she was proud of her efforts nonetheless.
She wanted to ask how they would cook and then serve the raviolis but she lacked the language. She would just have to wait. She smiled at Nonna and said thank you. Nonna just nodded back but something about her expression made Natalie think that she had made some progress with the curmudgeonly old lady.
They ate the pasta at dinner that night, lightly dressed in a buttery lemon sauce.
‘My mother says you made the pasta,’ said Salvatore to Natalie. ‘Brava.’
He was more casually dressed than usual that evening in jeans and a white tee-shirt but still managed to look like he had stepped off a film set. He and Stella really were a beautiful couple, the contrast between his dark rugged look and her fair willowy one making them all the more striking together.
He smiled at Natalie, making her feel like a child who had done a good job for a discerning teacher.
‘I don’t know about that,’ replied Natalie quickly. ‘But I helped a bit.’
‘Nonna lets me make pasta,’ chipped in Paola. ‘I make the best pasta.’ She quickly repeated herself in Italian and her grandmother nodded.
‘Sì. È vero, piccolina.’
They continued to eat with exclamations of appreciation throughout. Natalie tried not to show how proud she was of her efforts but she couldn’t suppress all her smiles. Once she looked up and caught Danny staring at her. She felt the electric shock of it run right through her. She tipped her head to one side questioningly, but he didn’t speak.
When the meal was finished, the children asked to be excused.
‘Ten minutes,’ said Stella sternly. ‘Then Natalie will be coming to put you to bed.’
Natalie nodded but she knew that ten minutes here was considerably more elastic than it was at home.
The children had scampered away and Nonna brought steaming cups of strong black coffee to the table. It was dark now, the sky above them speckled with stars and the air rich with the scent of jasmine.
‘Nasty business yesterday in Palermo,’ Stella said out of nowhere.
Natalie was surprised. Annette had told her never to mention the Mafia and yet here was Stella apparently discussing it at the dinner table.
Salvatore began to reply to her in Italian but Stella stopped him.
‘In English,’ she said. ‘For our guests.’
Natalie knew that she was the only one who couldn’t follow and she was staff, not a guest, but she appreciated the sentiment.
‘They know the risks when they take the job,’ Salvatore repeated sternly, without making eye contact with Stella.
The atmosphere had shifted and Natalie struggled to get a grip on it. Stella was staring at her husband and there was something almost defiant about her expression, as if she were wilfully overstepping some mark. By contrast, Salvatore’s body language was closed. He seemed to have no intention of engaging any more than was necessary. Natalie couldn’t work out if the vague conversation, such as it was, was for her benefit, to make sure that she was aware of what had happened, but she hadn’t learned anything she didn’t already know. And she had rarely witnessed a more awkward exchange.
‘You must put the children to bed now,’ said Salvatore. His voice wasn’t gruff or angry but it had an authoritative air that Natalie wasn’t about to ignore.
‘Will do,’ she said, bouncing up from her seat. Either it really was the children’s bedtime or he wanted her out of the way. Natalie wasn’t sure which.
40
The house was in a state of busyness as the family readied to move to their summer house for the holidays. Natalie’s responsibility was to pack everything that the children could possibly require for two months away. Having never been anywhere for two months herself, she wondered if it might not be easier to take everything they owned, but they had been allocated one suitcase each so she was going to have to be more discerning.
It didn’t help that for everything she put into the case, Paola added two more items. She did this not just for herself but for the boys too.
‘We need beach shoes,’ she said, ‘because there are some caves that Papa takes us to. And Gianni needs two pairs of goggles because he always loses them. And I need my pens and lots of paper and Enzo needs old tee-shirts to swim in because he stays in the water too long and his shoulders burn.’
Natalie listened to the long list of requirements and tried to make sure she had everything covered, although there were surely shops nearby if she forgot anything. By the time she came to a basic first-aid kit the cases were too full to close so she slipped the kit in her own case, removing a pair of trainers to make room.
Nonna was going back to Salvatore’s sister’s house before they left and they all gathered outside to say goodbye. Danny hefted her case into the back of the car. He was to drive Nonna as Salvatore was at work and it didn’t seem to be acceptable to either party for Stella to take her.
The children all hugged their grandmother. Even Enzo gave her a proper squeeze. She kissed them each in turn, putting her wrinkled hands on their smooth cheeks and lifting their faces towards hers. She spoke to them all softly, giving instructions on how they should behave until next they met.
Finally, she turned to Natalie.
‘Arrivederci,’ said Natalie. ‘E grazie.’
The old woman accepted her thanks with a single nod. Then she met Natalie’s eyes. If you looked beyond the crinkles in the surrounding skin, they were the same as her son’s: sharp, intense and missing nothing.
‘Be careful,’ she said to Natalie in English, but before Natalie could ask her what she was talking about Danny was helping her into the car, leaving Natalie to wonder just how much English the old woman knew.
As they drove away, Natalie searched for meaning in the simple warning. It might just have been about the children. Having responsibility for them was an important job and care should most definitely be taken with that. She might have said it because the previous incumbents of her job had all left so quickly and Nonna didn’t want the same to happen to her. They had got on well, Natalie thought, but it seemed unlikely that such a warning was necessary.
The only interpretation Natalie was left with was that it had been a warning for her own personal safety. But the old woman couldn’t have meant it like that, surely. There was no danger here, if you didn’t count the almost constant risk of being pushed into the pool by the boys.
Natalie had no time to ponder, however. The house needed to be ready for their departure and so she set to helping Annette with the cleaning, being able to focus on the task because she knew Danny wasn’t there.
‘What’s the summer house like?’ she asked as she followed Annette’s broom with her mop.
‘Huge. And much older than this place,’ replied Annette. ‘They had this one built when they got married. The one in Syracuse used to be an old palace or something.’
Natalie thought this house was huge. She couldn’t imagine why the family needed anything bigger still. And a palace?
‘That sounds very grand,’ she said.
‘It certainly was once,’ agreed Annette. ‘It’s a bit of a faded beauty these days and it’s got no pool, but it’s in Ortigia, which is why they go. Everyone who is anyone is there in the summer to catch up with friends, be seen at the right parties, that kind of stuff.’
This didn’t really accord with Natalie’s understanding of who Stella was and she said so.
‘It’s not her choice. This is all about Salvatore’s business,’ said Annette. ‘Stella goes along for the ride but I think she’d rather stay here with the kids. It’s good for us though. There’s far more to do there than there is here. Nicer bars, more restaurants. Definitely more lads. Not that you’ll be interested, not with your giant crush.’
Natalie shoved her playfully.
‘How’s that going?’ Annette asked. ‘Confessed your undying love yet?’
‘No. But I found out he’s single so that’s a good start.’
‘I reckon you’ll be together by the time we leave Syracuse.’
Natalie longed for this to be true and was desperate for any snippets of information that pointed in that direction.
‘Why do you say that?’ she chanced, trying and failing to appear casually disinterested.
‘I’ve seen him looking at you,’ laughed Annette, tapping her nose. ‘I’m good at spotting the signals.’
Natalie had been searching for signals herself and had found nothing, but she was happy to take Annette’s opinion as the truth rather than her own more negative interpretation of the situation. However, as far as she could tell, Danny was entirely occupied by his duties for Salvatore. There didn’t seem to be much room in his life for romance.
But maybe if the opportunity for some was presented to him, he might make the time. She could, at least, live in hope.
41
Annette was right about the family summer house in Ortigia being grand. It didn’t look much from the front. As with many Italian houses, it was hidden behind a plain wall and a pair of wooden gates that opened directly on to a narrow street. There was literally nothing for the passing public to see.
But once inside it was a different story. The narrow entrance opened out into a wide cobbled courtyard. At its centre was a stone fountain, the water trickling gently over a pair of alabaster dolphins caught in mid leap. Creepers twisted around many fluted stone columns and shocks of pink and purple bougainvillea blooms were everywhere. Shafts of sunlight fell like spotlights on to the cobbles.
‘Bloody hell,’ said Natalie under her breath. She had travelled with Stella and the children, who were squeezed into the back seat and desperate to pop out of the car like corks from bottles.
‘Well, here we are,’ said Stella. Her voice had something slightly false about it, as if being here wasn’t quite what she wanted. ‘Let’s go in and see if Gabriella is ready for us.’
Natalie had no idea who Gabriella was but guessed she too was staff of some kind. There were certainly plenty of those around.
Stella released the child locks and the children burst out of the car and raced straight towards a set of wide stone steps that Natalie assumed led up to the house.
‘This is some place,’ she said, getting out and opening the boot to get the cases.
‘It’s horribly grand,’ replied Stella. ‘Totally over the top for what we need but Salvatore insisted on buying it. He loves it. And the children enjoy coming,’ she added, which made Natalie think that Stella didn’t. ‘It’ll be lovely to have you young people with us too. Salvatore’s business types can be a bit stuffy and I don’t always fit in as well here as I do at home. I’m not quite their cup of tea.’
She linked arms with Natalie and pulled her in close as if they were friends and not employer and employee. ‘Right. Into battle we go. Don’t worry about the cases. Gabriella will do that. Let’s go up and I’ll show you around.’
They climbed the stone steps, following after the children, the dappled shade making the air pleasantly cool.
‘I know I’ve barely seen you since you arrived,’ Stella said as they walked, ‘but I’m so glad to have you with us, Natalie. You’re doing a great job. And the children adore you.’
A glow pulsed through Natalie. It had been so long since she had been praised by anyone – not counting Etta, of course, whose approval of her had been constant and well-meaning but totally undeserved.
‘I adore them too,’ she said, and meant it. ‘They’re so sweet and all so different.’
This was true. Enzo with his serious determination, carefree Gianni and bossy little Paola, they were each tiny prototypes of the adults they would become. Was this what it meant to have children, to create fascinating miniature beings out of parts of their parents that ultimately grew into their own selves?
‘They’re certainly that,’ replied Stella with a tinkling laugh. ‘Enzo is so like his father and Gianni is a free spirit like me. I’m not sure where Paola came from but I wouldn’t be without her.’
‘Me neither,’ agreed Natalie. ‘She’s my primary source of information.’
‘I’ll bet she is,’ smiled Stella indulgently. ‘She’s wise beyond her years, that one. But honestly, Natalie. I don’t know what we’d do without you.’
Natalie muttered her thanks because she could feel her throat start to tighten and she didn’t want Stella to know how affected she was by her kind words. But she stored the moment away so she could take it out later and enjoy it again.
Moving to Sicily, taking that leap into the unknown, had been exactly what she had needed. For years she had been floundering around in what felt like deep water, not knowing how she was going to get herself out. It had taken everything she had just to keep afloat, never mind swim to the warm shallows.
This, though, this family, the way they had opened up their lives and accepted her in. It felt like a new start to Natalie. The beginning of the next part of her life. She wasn’t trying to replace Etta or her parents but she did need more than them alone. She needed something that she had created herself, that she could be proud of but also could build her future on. And here in Sicily she believed she might have found it.
At the top of the stairs was a grand wooden door standing ajar and next to it a slender woman with black hair pulled up into a bun. She was wearing a white cotton housecoat – a uniform, maybe – and greeted Stella with a broad smile and a tumble of Italian. They hugged and then a stream of information was quickly exchanged, Natalie barely following what was said. Eventually, Stella introduced her, and Gabriella nodded and smiled before bustling off. So that was four of them, if you counted Danny. Four full-time staff, plus a gardener or two. The Barbieris must be even wealthier than she had thought.
And then they went into the house and everything she was beginning to realise about the family was confirmed. Stella showed her through room after room of what clearly was a palace. The ceilings were high and vaulted and painted with frescos of cherubs and clouds. There were trompe l’oeil cornices and pillars painted on to the cream walls in a delicate duck-egg blue. There were even painted archways containing painted statues so realistic that Natalie wanted to touch them just to convince her brain that they were really two-dimensional.
