Chapter 23
CHAPTER 23
CASALTA, 26 APRIL 1985
LUCREZIA
‘Lulu? Lulu, come on. Come upstairs; you need a few hours of proper sleep, at least!’
Bianca’s voice woke me, and as sleep faded away, a dull aching filled all my bones. I’d fallen asleep at my father’s desk. Again. I followed Bianca in a daze and crawled into my bed.
I’d spent days and nights in that study, trying to find a clue that would help us keep Casalta. I’d made countless calls; I’d gone to see Father’s former friends and associates, swallowing my pride in a way I’d never thought possible.
None of them was rude to me – I received condolences and good wishes.
But none of them would help.
When I said that I wasn’t asking for a gift, but for a loan, and that my sisters and I would repay them if only we were allowed to keep Casalta – that slowly, our oil and our wine and our individual occupations would make enough to repay such a loan – these businessmen either smiled, or snorted with laughter like Lorenzo had done. They patronised me; they metaphorically patted me on the head, like I was a kitten trying to roar, cute and helpless.
The last name on my list was Gianpaolo Pera, a man larger than he was tall and director of the Florentine bank where my father had one of his accounts. We sat in his office overlooking Piazza Santa Croce, its enchanting view a contrast to the circumstances. Under a sky the colour of pewter and swollen clouds, it was even more beautiful. Pera gave me the missing piece of the jigsaw, the deepest reason why nobody would touch the Falconeri business.
‘What exactly are you looking for, Signorina Falconeri?’
‘Someone to cover our debts, and let us live in Casalta. They’d be repaid in full with the earnings from the wine and olive business. I know that if it was run properly, it could turn a profit again.’
He shook his head, slowly. ‘ Mmmm .’
‘Casalta has a huge sentimental value for us. And I’m sure…’
‘My apologies, signorina, if I’m mistaken. But I believe you received an offer from Lorenzo Orafi?’
I was taken aback – how did he know? But then, it was the old boys’ network, wasn’t it? A handful of men controlled pretty much everything.
‘We did. But he’d take Casalta,’ I said. ‘He’d take it all, in exchange for settling our debts.’
‘Even if anyone was willing to trust you giving back that amount of money, nobody would go against Lorenzo Orafi. Times have changed. The games have changed. I’m truly sorry. Now that Fosco Falconeri is gone, there’s nobody left to handle the business. Lorenzo Orafi is your best bet. If you let him take charge, I’m sure you’ll find an agreement that’s advantageous for all parties.’
There’s nobody left to handle the business. Let a strong man take charge, you’ll be in good hands.
It was the same message that Lorenzo had given us. I wanted to scream. It was a strong man who’d sunk the business, lost everything and dismantled our family. So much for trusting another one of them, believing we’d be in good hands.
To his credit, Pera took a step back. ‘You’re very brave to be trying this, Signorina Falconeri. I’m not patronising you,’ he added, reading my thoughts. ‘The problem here is that you’re in a financial hole. If you wanted to take charge of the business, and you were starting from nothing, I’m sure you’d succeed. But you’d be starting from ruin.’
‘Yes. Ruin is the word.’
He leaned over the desk. ‘Signorina, please remember this. The word ruin might describe the Falconeri empire, but not you and your sisters. You’re young; you have everything to live for. Maybe that house of yours is part of the past too, part of the ruin. Something that you must leave behind.’
‘I thought so too. But it’s not so. My sisters are building something out of Casalta. One is a painter, the youngest. My middle sister has a riding school. And the eldest…’
‘Oh, I know Bianca’s work. She’s a huge help to disadvantaged families all over the province of Florence. I have the utmost respect for her, and for you.’
‘You don’t know me.’
‘I recognise courage and dignity when I see them. You know, I can see some of your father in you.’
That’s not a compliment.
‘I’m nothing like my father.’
Pera stood from his chair and went to perch himself on the desk, beside me. ‘You have his determination, and his strength. I knew his dark sides, Lucrezia. But he was very capable, and he had a lot on his shoulders.’
‘If he was so capable, then why did he lose everything?’
‘It’s a good question, and I think I can attempt an answer. He lost everything because he gave up. Something ate him from the inside. After Emmeline’s death he was never the same, but in the last few years he truly stopped fighting. I tried to shake him, but I achieved nothing. He wasn’t a man to be influenced, for the good or the bad. It was almost as if he let it all fall through his fingers… on purpose. He was tormented.’
The weight of his sins, I suppose , I thought, but didn’t say. Pera waited a moment, but seeing that I had nothing to comment on the matter, he continued.
‘After all is said and done, the fact remains that nobody in their right mind, nobody who wants to keep his business, would stand between Lorenzo Orafi and what he wants. Follow my advice, signorina, let go, move on. I understand it’s painful, but you will come out the other side. I wish you the very best of luck. And if there’s anything I can help you with, please just call. I mean it.’
A ray of sunshine broke through the clouds and illuminated Piazza Santa Croce and my face, as I looked down onto my hands.
‘Thank you.’
As much as I appreciated his kindness, I was deflated. Pera had been my last try.
I sat in Bianca’s car and cried furious tears. I banged the steering wheel with my fists and sobbed, away from everyone. Nobody could be allowed to see me like this.
Defeat pervaded every inch of my body. I’d gone from wanting Casalta to be sold, to being indifferent to it, to caring for my sisters’ sake… to caring myself. The mysteries of an injured heart, longing to caress the beast that bit you. Or maybe that beast wasn’t there any more.
All the yesterdays were gone, and only today remained.
‘ More rain over Tuscany! Turns out this is the wettest spring in forty years, so don’t put away your umbrellas quite yet… ’
The radio presenter chittered as I drove in between the dryads and onto the gravel, under a grey sky. The rain was like a melody, going from light to heavy and back the same way music rises and falls. Just as I was about to step out of the car the sound of thunder broke the sky, and I jumped. The rain grew even thicker in the short run through the courtyard, a sheet of water between me and the kitchen door.
Matilde ambushed me with towels as if I’d walked miles in the rain instead of a hundred metres, and had boiled water for tea. ‘How did it go?’
‘Not good. It was our last chance.’
‘We’ll be fine…’ Bianca comforted me.
At that moment Nora appeared, all muddy boots and soaking hair.
‘ Lucrezia will be fine. Us, not so much.’
Thanks, sister.
‘Nora…’ Bianca began, admonishing her.
‘Leave it. I’m not even listening,’ I said, feeling like I’d reverted to a teenager. We were catching up on sisterly fights, I supposed.
‘Well, I’m going. Girls, keep the peace,’ Matilde said as if we were children arguing over a favourite toy. Once again, time had done its accordion thing, and years had disappeared like they’d never gone by.
‘I’ll drive you home,’ Nora offered Matilde, and took out her car keys from her pocket.
‘Oh, it’s not necessary, I have an umbrella. And please don’t come inside with those muddy boots…’
‘I don’t think an umbrella will do much, in this,’ I said, gesturing to the storm outside.
‘Well, thank you, then.’ Matilde gave up, and, after having wrapped herself in her jacket, zipped up to her neck, she and Nora disappeared into the wind and rain.
‘Where’s Gabriella?’ I asked. ‘Somewhere dry, I hope!’
‘She’s just gone to see her friend in the village; she should be back by tonight. Probably she’ll try and wait it out. Tea?’
‘Please. Well, we tried,’ I said and rubbed my forehead with my fingers.
‘I know. Thank you for being here, in all this,’ Bianca whispered. ‘It’s almost been like a trade. I’m about to lose my home, but I got my sister back.’
She found my hand with hers.
‘Time to make the call,’ I said.
‘Time to make the call,’ she echoed.
Fat drops of rain were pounding the living room windows as I rested my hand on the receiver, took a deep breath and dialled the number.
A female voice answered, maybe Susanna. ‘Orafi residence, who’s calling?’
It was like phoning an office, more than a home. ‘Lucrezia Falconeri. I’d like to speak to Signor Lorenzo, please.’
‘One moment.’
At least there was no holding music, I thought. My heart gave a jump when someone spoke at the other end of the line. ‘Lucrezia?’
‘Lorenzo.’
‘You’re ready to sign, I hope.’
‘Yes, I am.’
‘Good. I think you’ll find this was the best decision for everyone. Well—’ he began, but I cut him short. I didn’t want to speak to him for a minute more than necessary.
‘Goodbye, Lorenzo.’
‘Goodbye, Lucrezia. I’ll have Cavalli phone you when we have a date. Oh… here’s Vanni.’
‘Of course… Vanni,’ I said into the receiver, and the world lost a little bit of its grey.
‘Listen… I’m glad you called. I wanted to speak to you.’
‘Yes, I?—’
‘Going to Florence together was a mistake. And I’m not sure your French boyfriend would be happy about it, anyway.’
I was stunned for a moment, then his words sank in. It’s not working out with Claude. I was going to call him, but I wanted to tell him in person … But none of that came out.
The way his smile had faded just before he disappeared from my sight, after we returned from Florence, and the strange feeling it’d given me, came back to my mind.
‘Vanni…’
‘After all these years, we don’t have much in common. I’ve changed. I’m not the person you used to know.’
‘Understood,’ I whispered, while Bianca was searching my face.
‘Good. You’re better off staying away from someone stuck in a chair. Take care.’
What?
I heard the click that told me the conversation was over.
‘Lulu?’ Bianca was bending towards me. ‘You’re so pale…’
‘I’m fine, I’m fine…’
‘You’re allowed to be upset, you know? We’ll sort it all out. We’ll find a home, we’ll get jobs – paid jobs – we’ll survive.’
I didn’t want to tell her what Vanni had just said to me. You’re better off staying away from someone stuck in a chair.
‘Yes. Of course. Things will fall into place.’
‘Oh, Lulu. I have to tell you. I can accept all this, losing Casalta, starting again, but… I only have one wish.’
‘Tell me.’
‘That you won’t go,’ she blurted out, and then retracted. ‘I don’t mean to emotionally blackmail you! I know you have a life to go back to. I meant… if you want. If it’s what you want… please stay. At least for a while.’
‘I’ll stay as long as everyone is settled. Doesn’t matter how long it’ll take. It’s a promise.’
Vanni’s words took my sleep away. I didn’t understand how he could have changed his mind so quickly! Unless the change had happened before I returned, and our connection had just been an illusion. It’d been momentous to me; it had opened my heart in a way I hadn’t thought possible any more.
But it hadn’t broken his shell.
We’d lost Casalta. My life in Paris made no more sense to me. The memory of Vanni had been shattered, and rejection had taken its place. Everything was in ruin, not just my father’s business.
It was barely dawn when I stood at the window and watched the lovely, lovely hills of my home illuminated by the grey-pink light. Humans come and go, but the hills will always be there. And us, the Casalta sisters, were together again; I knew I’d win Nora back too. I’d survive, we’d all survive and there would be a tomorrow.
But I refused to let Vanni get away with despising himself.
I could accept he didn’t want me around; I had no right to plonk myself into his life like no time had passed. But I couldn’t accept his self-loathing. He’d called himself a cripple , and that nasty word kept resounding in my ears.
I remembered once, looking at him when we were in the treehouse – he’s only a few months older than me, but all of a sudden he seemed so much stronger and wiser. I would have never told him, of course, but I admired him. I looked up to him. To me, he was… I know it sounds cheesy, but he was the best . And this childish awe I had for him was still there.
I’d go from his life, like he asked me: but first, I’d tell him what I thought of his self-loathing.
Lorenzo didn’t waste any time. I tried to negotiate a week’s peace for my sisters, to try and come to terms with the loss of Casalta, but all I gained was one day. Lorenzo had decided to come and inspect what he was about to buy. Fair enough, I suppose, but I suspected he just wanted to rub our faces in it.
He and a few others, some in shirts and ties and some in working gear, turned up at the house after giving us a few hours’ notice. Vanni wasn’t with them, of course – not after what he’d said to me.
They walked around the house, looking up and around, following a floor plan that they must have got from Cavalli, without having asked for permission. After all, the house was to be theirs: they had the right to any document they wanted.
Nora was at the stables, as usual, and Mia had taken refuge in her turret; but Bianca and I followed the men every step of the way.
Their male energy, their careless, proprietary voices rising to the ceilings – everything about them felt like a violation. They were stomping around, talking as if we weren’t there.
Lorenzo didn’t mention any plans, but from what they were saying, it was clear that Casalta wouldn’t be a home any more, but a guesthouse, a hotel, whatever they’d decide to call it.
‘The living room is perfect; it’ll make a great hospitality area,’ Lorenzo’s associate said, a small, wily man in a stripy suit. ‘But the kitchen, for heaven’s sake. The kitchen is a cupboard, really!’
The kitchen where we sat with our mother, where Matilde prepared countless meals for us, where there was always a pot on the stove and the copper pots hanging on the walls shone in the sunshine.
‘This courtyard is a real asset, though. Guests will love it. The fountain might be in the way of the outside dining areas though.’
‘Are those steady?’ Stripy Suit said, pointing to our dryads. ‘Doesn’t look like it. We wouldn’t want them to fall on people’s cars. Or people’s heads!’
My heart beat harder, faster, when they followed the corridor and came to the door to my father’s study. I stood in front of them. ‘No.’
‘No? We can’t go in there?’ Lorenzo said in his calm manner.
‘This could be another reception room, I suppose.’ Stripy Suit was looking at the floor plan.
‘It was Fosco Falconeri’s study,’ Lorenzo explained, a small, triumphant smile on his lips.
‘Many of his things are still in there,’ Bianca said.
Lorenzo turned on his heels. ‘Make a great big bonfire. I’m saying this for your sake,’ he said to me, his back to us.
Stripy Suit had his foot on the stairs when Lorenzo took him by the arm and pulled him down.
‘We won’t enter your rooms, of course,’ he said generously, and Bianca blushed to the tips of her hair.
‘I’m touched,’ I said.
We certainly weren’t in a hurry to show them the way to the oldest part of Casalta, but they followed the floor plan to the garden and to the back of the house, entering Mia’s turret from outside. She was like a fluttering bird when they stepped in, small and panicked. Stripy Suit looked up and around. ‘Creepy. They close in on you,’ he said, talking about Mia’s murals.
‘I disagree,’ Lorenzo said, quite unexpectedly. ‘They’re beautiful.’
Bianca laid a gentle hand on his arm. ‘The frescoes must stay,’ she said in her soft voice.
‘The frescoes stay, no matter what,’ Lorenzo stated. He threw a glance at Bianca as he went, and received one in return.
I’d been right about something tying Bianca to the Orafi brothers, but completely wrong about which one. But whatever there was between them, it seemed so delicate to me, with so much unsaid.
And yet, that one look between them had spoken more than a thousand words – and at that moment, I saw them both shine with a golden halo.
‘I didn’t dare ask about their plans for the stables,’ I said, standing at the main door while the cars left. All my limbs felt heavy, like I’d run a marathon. It was another drizzly day, with a sky full of clouds slowly turning from white to grey. This sun and rain dance, the shifting from grey to shine and back, seemed to reflect my contrasting feelings, as if me and the sky were on a similar quest.
Bianca sighed. ‘It’ll be awful. Poor Nora will be heartbroken.’
Thinking of Nora’s storminess, I steeled myself: she might be furious with me, but I’d try to help her in any way I could. She’d fight me every step of the way, of that I was sure. ‘I could do with a coffee,’ I said, following Bianca inside.
‘I could do with a drink,’ Bianca replied, and we both took refuge in the kitchen. She made coffee and poured some marsala liqueur in, making it sweet, warming and with an edge that allowed us to relax.
‘At least Mia’s paintings will be saved. Lorenzo promised me.’
I observed Bianca’s face, and indeed, she did blush a little. I was right, but my twin’s heart was so secret, so delicate, that I couldn’t ask any questions.
The same way Vanni and I did, I supposed.
‘How did this happen?’ Bianca cried out in frustration, and for a moment, I thought she’d read my mind.
‘What?’
‘How did we go from being one of the wealthiest families of the region, to being deep in debt? I don’t mind living frugally. But the debt! Our father had many flaws but he was capable, very capable. I don’t understand.’
‘I asked Pera the same question. He said that after Mum went, Father gave up. That something was eating him inside. I think it was guilt.’
‘He kept his feelings so deep inside, none of us truly saw . All we knew was that he was always angry, even more than before. If only I’d known about the business. Maybe I could have done something…’
‘Father held the reins. What could you have done?’
‘Something. Anything. I don’t know.’
‘We grew up in a man’s world. All we could do at that time was obey.’
‘Well, not any more. I’ll never live in a man’s world again…’
The sound of a thunderclap swallowed her words, so loud I almost cowered. Mia ran through into the kitchen, a lick of blue paint on her cheek, just as the wind engulfed the house, howling around the windows. The evening had been swallowed by a full-blown storm in such a short time, it was almost preternatural.
‘Is Nora out in this weather?’ she fretted.
‘She took Matilde home. She probably stopped by the stables. She’ll be in soon, don’t worry,’ Bianca tried to reassure her. The noise of banging shutters filled the room and made us all jump. I ran up the stairs, and while grabbing the shutters in our bedrooms and working against the wind to get them closed, I saw thick electrical trees of lightning shoot down from the clouds, into the hills.
I was halfway down the stairs when Nora’s voice came from the hall. ‘Tuscan tornado! Is everyone okay?’
‘Thank goodness you’re back…’ I began, when a rumble loud enough to shake the walls almost knocked me off my feet. The whole house lit up at once, a white light that blinded me – then, darkness fell.
Lightning had struck very close to us, or maybe the house itself. I could feel the static in my hair, the smell of ozone – the air was the colour of lead with yellow undertones. I heard a thump, then two of the French doors being battered by the wind, and then I came to my senses.
‘Blackout! Nobody panic; I have candles and matches,’ I heard Bianca call from downstairs. I made my way down slowly, step by step, holding onto the banister, until I finally made it to the living room. I could only guess the silhouettes of Bianca and Mia in the gloom. I felt someone slip beside me; Gabriella is back , I thought.
Five faces glowed in the gloom, one by one. Bianca holding the candle holder by the handle with pale-faced Mia beside her – Nora on her way to the door – and a fifth woman, a fifth face gleaming.
It wasn’t Gabriella.
It was the woman I’d seen in the crowd in Paris, flaming hair with grey streaks, the features of a painting.
It was the woman I’d seen against the rose bush all those years before, crowned with petals and thorns.
It was my mother.