Chapter 16
Stella’s daughter’s face filled the phone screen, her mouth now open but no words spilling out. Lauren, who’d happily give a speech to a room of five hundred advertising executives, had been shocked into silence.
‘I killed him, Lauren,’ Stella repeated. ‘Did you hear me?’
‘Yes, yes, of course I did. But I don’t understand what you’re saying. If you’d killed your papà, you would have been sent to prison. You wouldn’t have gone swanning off to England.’
‘Swanning off?’ Slunk off more like, unable to live with the mother who blamed her for her husband’s death, unable to comfort her grieving brother and sister, unable to face the curious stares.
‘Mum…’ Lauren prompted. ‘You can’t just drop a bombshell like this and not tell me what you’re going on about.’
The shop’s doorbell jangled.
‘I can’t talk right now,’ Stella said. ‘We’ll speak tonight, after you’ve finished work, after I’ve tidied up here.’
‘Make sure you ring me.’ Lauren snapped back to her usual brusque self. ‘I don’t like the thought of you stuck in that village by yourself, brooding over whatever you think you did or didn’t do in the past.’
‘I promise I’ll call you.’ Stella switched her phone to silent.
Even though she longed for Joe to ring and tell her he’d acted in haste and was on his way back, his call – if he made one – would have to go to voicemail.
She couldn’t cope with Lauren interrupting her day with more questions.
Stella already had another customer to deal with.
An elderly lady was making her way towards the counter, clutching a set of boxed light bulbs in one hand, her stick in the other.
Instead of the colourful smocks sported by other elderly village folk she wore a frilly collared blouse nearly tucked into a sunray pleated skirt that fell to her ankles.
A gold cross dangled from a length of black beads double looped around her wrinkled neck.
Despite her painfully slow gait, she held her head high, almost as though she were defying anyone who might suggest she was old and frail.
The quiff of white hair above her high forehead made Stella think of a proudly hoisted flag.
‘Buongiorno!’ Stella said.
The woman responded with a nod.
It was now that Stella focused on the woman’s face and the beady eyes that, despite her age, had no need of glasses. Those eyes! Stella recognised them at once: lake-water green, searching Stella’s for some evil rooted deep in her soul. The eyes of Fernanda, Gino’s mamma.
Fernanda placed her purchase on the counter. ‘Where’s Domenico?’ She twisted her head as though he might have sneaked up behind her. A bone in her neck creaked. Stella winced.
‘He had a fall, he’s at the hospital.’
‘I’m surprised I hadn’t heard. But then I don’t get out as much as I used to… Wait a moment, I know you. It’s Stella, isn’t it?’ she said sharply.
‘You remember me?’ Stella tried to sound casual, even though her heart was racing faster than the time Carol had dragged her along to her Wednesday night spin class. She rang up the cost of the bulbs.
Fernanda gave a brief nod. ‘You remember me too, I see, though you were just a young girl when you left.’
‘Of course I remember.’ Stella watched the old lady’s face but Fernanda didn’t react, merely counted out the exact change from her plum-coloured pigskin purse, dropping the coins onto the counter with a clatter so Stella had to scoop them up.
Fernanda placed her shopping in her brown cloth bag. ‘Give Domenico my best wishes.’ And with that, she turned and left.
Stella clutched the edge of the countertop, her heart still thumping.
When she arrived in the village, it hadn’t crossed her mind that she’d see Fernanda again, imagining she’d be long in her grave.
Even as a teenager, Gino’s mamma had seemed ancient, her stern looks and mutterings about sin something from another era.
But now here she was, large as life. The woman who’d set off the chain of events that had upended Stella’s life.