Chapter 16
CHAPTER 16
CASALTA, 16 APRIL 1985
LUCREZIA
Once the embrace was over and we were home, I felt alone.
I knew my sisters wanted to help, and Gabriella too, but this weight was on me. And I could only think of one way to shed it. I suppose the wise, reasonable thing would have been to sit and discuss a course of action, but I simply couldn’t face it.
There was a cacophony of reassurances, fears, recriminations and sympathy – the only quiet one was Mia, and when my eyes met hers across the room, those young-ancient eyes, I remembered her painting of Judith and Holofernes. Why had she chosen that scene, that story?
I wanted a clear-cut decision. And considering that once again I was the scapegoat of the family, I would take it for myself.
‘I need a walk to clear my thoughts,’ I said.
‘It’ll be dark soon,’ Bianca protested.
I didn’t answer. I had to leave. I couldn’t tell them that I had a plan, not yet. A desperate plan, but better than nothing, and certainly better than the situation I was in now.
Once again, years after I last did so, I was on my way to meet Vanni – once again in secret, though for entirely different reasons. The Orafi wanted Casalta – Lorenzo wanted Casalta.
They could have it.
The Orafi home was a little more than forty minutes away, close to the village of Biancamura, but in the open countryside. I took my high-heeled shoes off and climbed the hill behind Casalta, past the stables, past our vineyards. Was it just my impression, or did even the vines look a little neglected, not perfectly manicured like they’d always been?
Now that my father’s predicament had come to light, I saw – or imagined – the signs everywhere. When I first walked out, I was wrapped up in myself, my muscles tense and an iron grip around my head – but with every step I took, my senses awoke and my muscles began to relax. It was an unconscious process, the way nature reached out to me with soft hands and caressed my very soul.
The spring afternoon was drenched in sweet scents, and the grass felt soft under my feet. It was impossible not to be touched by this beauty, even in this mess I was in – the enchantment of this place in the heart of Italy was impossible to resist. It embraced me and comforted me, and everything seemed just a little bit easier, or even just a little less important.
Everything will flow away, after all – all this will pass, our stories and challenges and strife will all flow away, but these hills will stay.
I saw it in the muted light, our hazelnut tree, in a thicket that filled a low valley between my home and Vanni’s. It was still there, of course – nothing around here changed fast or easy, not loyalties, not families, not landmark trees.
I ran to it, and rested my hand on the rough, gnarly bark – I could almost see the children we used to be, sitting close to each other… I looked up, the sky visible through the canopy that was now wider and thicker – the planks Vanni had placed in a hollow between the branches were now half-hidden, but still there.
The sky was darkening; I didn’t linger further, and walked on. Aside from what I needed to discuss with the Orafi, the gentle pull towards Vanni, that simple, pure desire to be in his company, was still there.
Never before had I walked beyond the thicket where our tree was, but I was confident that I could easily figure out the way to the Orafi’s. After twenty minutes of walking under the twilight sky, crossing the hills towards the belfry of Biancamura, I reached the Orafi estate. It was my first time there.
Although I’d passed by their villa in the car and spotted it from a distance, I’d never been inside. Now, standing on the hill behind it, I could see it from above. It was a far cry from Casalta and its ancient, atmospheric beauty. The Orafi’s villa was modern and luxurious, with a wide terracotta terrace enclosed in high hedges, and a pool whose waters reflected the sky like a mirror. In the dusky light, the pool was silvery, like a lake from a myth or a fairy tale.
I slipped my shoes back on and made my way down the slope. My heart was beating hard against my chest; there was still a sense of furtiveness, almost transgression, at going to see our rival family. What would I find?
Even Vanni had admitted that they wanted to own Casalta. But on what conditions? I stopped and hesitated for a moment – and as I did a man dressed in a black suit and sunglasses appeared from nowhere and reached me in long, hasty strides. As if I were visiting a villain in a Bond film and security had spotted me. I rolled my eyes.
‘Signorina Falconeri, buonasera . We prefer visitors to use the main door,’ he said, and took my elbow. I shook him away.
‘I was going to; I just came through the hills. I wasn’t going to jump over the hedge! Please tell Signor Vanni that I’m here.’
He nodded, but didn’t let go of my elbow, which got on my nerves more than I could say. He led me all the way round to the main door, at the end of a long, paved driveway. He took out an enormous device he carried with him, a sort of walkie-talkie, but more intimidating, and pressed a button. Wait – I recognised the guy…
‘Bruno?’
‘Yes, it’s me, signorina.’
‘I punched you once, remember?’ I giggled, but there was no laughter on his part.
‘I’d rather forget. Lucrezia Falconeri, here to see Signor Vanni. We’re at the main door,’ he said into the huge portable phone.
‘There’s no sun, you know,’ I said. I couldn’t help myself.
I crossed my arms as I waited. This whole bodyguard thing was absurd and slightly unnerving. A maid in a black and white uniform came to the door, nodded at Bruno, and welcomed me inside. If you could call this a welcome.
‘Thank you, Susanna,’ Bruno said with enormous self-importance.
I glared at Bruno and his ridiculous walkie-talkie and sunglasses at night, as he left me with Susanna, who walked in front of me through a corridor lined with framed mirrors, and into a sumptuous hall. The house was splendid, all marble and dark wood.
I must admit that it was tasteful, not as obnoxious as it could have been. Everything oozed luxury, solidity. Not my taste, but beautiful, if you like that sort of thing.
It was only then that it struck me that everything looked worn, back at Casalta. The curtains were a little frayed, the doorsteps smoothed down, the furniture discoloured, the banister chipped in places. The imperfections made Casalta even more fascinating, but they did betray my father’s financial situation. Again, I thought that the family’s decline was there to see, if you knew where to look, if you observed. But none of us had – until now.
I followed Susanna through a reception room and across the terrace, along the side of the glimmering swimming pool, until we came to a one-storey outbuilding. She knocked and called: ‘The Signorina Falconeri is here, Signor Orafi.’
The door opened and Vanni was there, a smile on his face, mixed with surprise – was he blushing ? I probably was, because my cheeks felt warm. That easy smile was in such contrast with the circumstances of my visit, with the whole Bruno bodyguard charade and the maid’s formality, that I had to mirror it. We stared at each other, smiling, for a few seconds – we must have looked quite daft.
‘Thank you, Susanna. Come on in,’ he invited me, and moved aside so I could enter. His place was different from the main house: it had a rustic feel with naked stone walls and wooden floors, and huge windows that opened to the hills, so big that it almost felt like being outside. The fire burned in an open fireplace, and the air was full of the fragrance of wood and pine.
‘This place is beautiful,’ I said. ‘Very… you .’
‘I’m lucky, yes. Everything is at my height and it’s all on one floor,’ he explained. ‘It’s my refuge. Did you come on foot?’
‘Yes. Can you tell?’ I laughed, looking down at my muddy shoes and the hem of my dress, damp with evening dew.
‘I’m glad you’re here,’ Vanni said. ‘So soon. I wasn’t expecting…’
‘Sorry, I…’
‘No, don’t apologise! It’s great to see you, it really is. It’s just that you went to Cavalli, this afternoon, and I hope you’re good, you’re all good.’
There. The uncomplicated joy of seeing each other lasted only a while – we both seemed to remember all that we carried with us, all at once. I looked down.
‘You won’t say no to a glass of Orafi-made wine, will you?’
‘I have to walk back…’
‘No way, Maurizio will give you a lift.’ He made his way to a liquor cabinet and poured some wine from a bottle with their signature label, all golden – inspired by their name, Goldsmith . ‘Come sit.’
With a fluid move, he lowered the wheelchair armrest and positioned himself on a leather armchair. I sat beside him and took hold of my glass. He was right. I needed a drink. Vanni’s presence beside me, the burning fire, the warm liquor relaxing my muscles – everything seemed a little easier, a little more manageable… but not for long.
‘May I come in?’
It was Lorenzo’s voice, coming from behind the door. It immediately broke the spell between us, and I tensed again. As happy as I was to see Vanni, the purpose of this visit was to discuss business.
‘Sure,’ Vanni said, in a not-so-delighted tone.
I swallowed – I couldn’t show how nervous I really was. I was used to being cool and in control in my job, and I hoped that I could slip into the role seamlessly again. I had to be on guard, because Lorenzo’s smooth ways seemed to me like thin ice, deceitful and easy to break.
He poured himself a glass of wine and came to sit across from us, on the leather sofa.
‘You’re not worried our wine will poison you, Lucrezia?’ he joked. Hilarious . He wasn’t at all like he was that morning at my house, when he’d been courteous, calm.
‘Is Orafi wine poisonous?’
‘Only for Falconeri girls. Sorry, what a dreadful joke. Now let me guess,’ he said, leaning back. ‘You’ve been to Cavalli’s.’
I bristled. ‘Are you gloating?’
‘Why gloating?’ Vanni looked from one to the other. ‘What are you talking about, you two?’
‘You don’t know?’ I turned towards Vanni.
‘ I take care of work. Vanni and our father are not in good health. They shouldn’t be exposed to stress,’ Lorenzo said.
‘Lorenzo. Can you please explain?’ Vanni was holding onto the leather armrests, his fingers working at the fabric.
‘I can explain,’ I said. ‘My father lost everything. We’re neck-deep in debt, and it’s all been left to me.’ The weight of it, spoken out loud, overcame me – and the knot of tears I carried with me was threatening to flood again, not so much out of sadness, but out of anger. But Lorenzo was like a shark with blood – I couldn’t let him smell mine. No tears.
‘How is that even legally possible?’ Vanni exclaimed.
I shrugged. ‘I suppose, where there’s a will… excuse the pun.’
‘Lorenzo… You knew all along?’
Lorenzo nodded, a thin smile dancing on his lips.
‘And you didn’t tell them?’ Vanni said, punctuating his words with his fist on his knee.
‘Would they have believed me? And anyway, I don’t owe anything to the Falconeri.’ He turned to me. ‘If anything, you owe us .’
‘What?’ I whispered so that I wouldn’t shout, while Vanni was shaking his head.
‘Lorenzo, don’t go there…’ Vanni growled.
‘Who do you think did this, Signorina Falconeri?’ He gestured to Vanni’s legs. ‘My father is almost bedridden, and my mother washed her hands of us. Who do you think did this? ’
‘Not me. Maybe my father did it. I can see now he was capable of anything. But not me, and not my sisters. And you were different, when you came to our house this morning. Now you’re showing your true colours.’
Lorenzo’s eyes widened for a moment. My remark had hit him where it hurt. But it was true: was it because of Bianca that he’d shown himself civil, even friendly, and assured us that the feud was over?
‘I don’t hold you and your sisters responsible,’ he said slowly, looking at me straight in the eye.
‘It looks like you do, if you throw what happened to your family in my face. You don’t even know that it was my father who caused it.’ He snorted. ‘But even if it was, he’s dead. It’s finished. If only I could turn back time and stop it from happening, if I could heal Vanni…’ My voice broke.
‘Lucrezia…’ Vanni murmured beside me.
‘If I could change the past and bring back my mother and never leave Casalta… I would do all this. But I can’t. I shouldn’t have to make amends for what my father did.’ Why was I arguing? I should have been being pragmatic. I should have been smoothing the way to offering him Casalta in exchange for settling our debts – my debts. But I couldn’t help it. ‘And anyway, I paid my dues already, believe me. My father almost destroyed me too.’
‘By sending you to a boarding school in Switzerland? A genteel way of destroying someone.’
I took a breath. ‘You know nothing. You really know nothing .’
‘Lorenzo, you’ve gone too far,’ Vanni said.
He got up and went to the fire, hands in his pockets. ‘Well, I apologise.’ We must have looked sceptical, because he added: ‘I mean it. I agree with you, brother. I went too far. And for what it’s worth, I’m glad to see you reunited.’
I had to end this conversation. I had to say whatever I had to say, and take whatever was coming next. ‘All I know is that you’ve waited years to lay your hands on Casalta, and now it’s your chance. If you want it, Casalta is yours.’
‘You should hold your cards closer to your chest, Lucrezia. Make it a little harder for me, at least.’ His tone was smooth, but dry as sand, as he added: ‘There will be much to discuss. I’ll be in touch with the details and the paperwork.’
The driver left me at the front door of Casalta. I tried to sneak through the courtyard to the kitchen, but Bianca was looking out for me and yanked the door open on the steps.
‘Oh, thank goodness! It’s dark; I was worried… You’re so pale! You’re not sick, are you?’ She laid a warm hand on my forehead.
‘Apart from finding out that I’m millions in debt at the ripe old age at twenty-four, I’m fine. Let me catch my breath; I’ll tell you all.’
The Orafi’s car started and left, the illuminated window framing Maurizio’s face. ‘You went to them ?’ Bianca uttered.
I took a breath, as deep as I could, and stepped out of my high-heeled shoes. I was exhausted. Between seeing Vanni again, finding him in a wheelchair, discovering we were bankrupt, and that my father might have tried to exterminate his rival family… I had nothing left to give. I just wanted to go back to Paris, where everything was regimented, contained, all my walls were safely up, and my heart was locked away.
‘Please tell me you didn’t offer them Casalta…’
Of course. Of course she’d know at once. I could see her aura forming around her head, dark blue with purple edges, drawing in like a storm.
I made my way inside. ‘Can we discuss this tomorrow, Bianca? When we’re all a little calmer…’
‘Did you offer them Casalta?’ she repeated. She was pale, but with a determined look on her face. She was saying: If we have to, we’ll face it.
‘We need to sell. There’s no other way,’ I said. ‘If not to the Orafi, someone else. If we don’t do it, the banks will take everything to cover the debts. It’s for the best.’
The devastation on Bianca’s face killed me. Keeping my heart locked away was harder and harder work, the more time I spent with my sisters. The wall around my heart needed constant maintenance, or it would crumble… already I could see the cracks. And I was so tired, I thought I would fall asleep there and then.
A cry, like that of a small animal, came from the other side of the room. I looked up to see Mia briefly framed in the door before she disappeared.
‘You go rest; I’ll see to her,’ Bianca said.
I rested my forehead against the doorframe for a moment. ‘It’s for the best,’ I repeated to myself – I was so tired I was almost slurring my words – and made my way upstairs, to my room.
The red roses on my walls seemed to sway and dance as I came in. I didn’t get changed; I didn’t even pull the blankets up. I lay on my bed fully dressed and fell into a fitful sleep, full of agitated dreams that culminated in a nightmare.
My sisters and I were wandering around Casalta in a strange half-light; cobwebs hung from the walls and dusty, white-grey sheets covered the furniture. My sisters were children, all three of them wearing white summer dresses covered with little flowers, and they walked barefoot on the debris strewn on the floors.
I looked down at my hands, my feet – I, too, was a child in a white dress and bare feet. Our mother appeared among us, and we all ran to her – but as quickly as she’d materialised, she disappeared. We began calling her name – she appeared on the stairs, and we ran to her – but she was gone in an instant. Again and again, we were lost children searching for our mother in the cold and dark.
We were all calling, calling, until our calls became panicked – there was no answer, and the light was fading – in a stream of unnatural light I saw her appear outside, in the rose garden. I banged on the glass, but my mother didn’t seem to see me or hear me – I threw myself against the glass and went through it, a million shards exploding around me.
I awoke drenched in sweat, tears running down my cheeks, shaking with terror and cold, my screams resounding with my sisters’ in my ears.