Chapter 63 Sophie
S OPHIE
The smoky smell of incense hangs thick in the air as the choir sings in Italian. There are people everywhere. Too many people, all around her. A flutter sweeps across Sophie’s chest and she wipes her clammy hands on her coat. She should never have agreed to come.
‘Okay?’ Rocco smiles at her.
‘I’m okay.’
‘Now is Holy Communion and closing hymn, then finished.’
She’ll believe that when she sees it. This Mass has been going since the dawn of time.
Rocco reaches for her hand. His touch calms her a little.
Marina briefly looks down at their intertwined hands and says nothing, turning her attention back to Padre Alessandro, transfixed by him.
Elena’s also focused on the priest. She has a beatific smile on her face. It’s creepy, the way she’s staring at him. Christian’s scrolling on his phone, completely oblivious to his wife’s fixation on the other man.
Both Mrs Dawson (whose presence here with her grumpy husband remains a mystery to Sophie) and Elena’s mother also watch the priest with expressions of wonder and awe. He has every woman captivated.
But Padre Alessandro only has eyes for Marina. He holds his arms up in the classic preacher pose as he prays, his voice husky and deep. Does nobody else see that this man’s clearly mouthing words he doesn’t mean while not taking his eyes off Marina? Not for one second. Seriously, is he even blinking?
Sophie looks between Marina and the priest as he rattles off more prayers. Marina’s red lips are slightly parted. Jesus.
Eternally cheerful Rocco watches Padre Alessandro through narrowed eyes. He rolls his tongue around his cheek. It’s as if he wants to climb the few steps to the altar and belt his old friend a good one.
Behind the priest, an oil painting of Mary stares straight through Sophie with glazed blue eyes. It’s unnerving.
The congregation chants another prayer and more incense is released into the church, overpowering her. People start to form lines for Holy Communion. Sophie’s just beginning to think she might get through this Mass after all, when the next hymn starts. ‘Ave Maria’.
A memory hits her with full force. Her mother, all those years ago, standing next to her at St Francis Cathedral on a sweltering Christmas Eve in Melbourne. Penelope had sung the Latin words to ‘Ave Maria’ in her serene voice, when she knew that once they were home she was going to end Sophie’s father’s life while young Sophie and David slept soundly in their beds. There wasn’t the slightest waver in Penelope’s singing voice that night, even as the man she was about to kill happily sang the hymn in baritone right next to her.
The choir builds up momentum. ‘Ave, ave dominus.’
All around Sophie are people. People queuing up for Holy Communion, people walking back to their seats, more people blocking the altar and the aisles. People, people everywhere.
‘I have to get out.’ She slides her hand out of Rocco’s.
‘Nearly finished,’ he whispers. ‘Five more minutes maximum.’
‘No. I have to get out now .’ She doesn’t give him a chance to reply. She climbs right over Marina, stumbling into the aisle.
Marina grabs onto her to stop her from falling. ‘Sophie! What’s the matter?’
She shakes her off and walks into the queue. ‘Excuse me, excuse me!’
Nobody moves; the aisle is blocked as far as she can see. She squeezes between people, pushing them, forcing her way through.
The choir sings. ‘Ventris tuae, Jesus.’
‘Sophie!’ Rocco’s behind her.
She’s sweating. It’s hard to breathe. She elbows more people out of the way. They mutter at her. She doesn’t care, she keeps pushing through until she reaches the back of the church.
A soprano soloist takes over; her notes are shrill. ‘Ave Maria.’
Sophie flings the door open and runs down the stairs.
‘Wait!’ Rocco calls.
She doesn’t stop running until she’s at the opposite end of the piazza, where she bends over and dry retches.
Rocco catches up to her. ‘What happened? Dio mio, you’re sick!’
She turns to face him, with saliva and tears and snot sliding down her face. ‘I’m sorry. I had to get out.’
‘It’s okay. Come.’ He wraps her up in his arms and holds her tight. When her breathing finally slows down, he says, ‘Andiamo. I will bring you tea to your room and you will feel better.’
‘No, stay here with your family.’ She hunts for a tissue in her pocket. Not finding one, she wipes her face with her coat sleeve. ‘I’ll find my way back to the hotel.’
‘Sophie, come on, you are in Venice. No tourist can find their way back to anywhere.’ He smiles. ‘I am taking you home.’
‘But the special Mass, your family.’
‘Pfft, what special Mass?’ He cocks his arm for her and she accepts it.
Slowly they make their way back to the hotel, Rocco whistling softly as he guides her through the lit-up alleyways and piazzas. When was the last time she knew someone to whistle while they walked, she wonders. It must be years. The happy melody soothes her.
Before too long, she spots the blue Il Cuore shimmering under spotlights. When she unlocks the door to her suite, she has the same sense of relief that she gets whenever she steps into her apartment in Melbourne. After only a week, Il Cuore has become home.
She heads straight for bed and Rocco follows her. They lie facing each other on top of the fluffy pink covers. She’s still in her coat and boots. The panic has passed, and all she feels now is overwhelming fatigue.
‘Do you want me to bring you a piece of cake?’ Rocco’s voice is gentle.
‘No, thanks. I’m not hungry.’
They lie in silence.
‘Hey, can I ask you something?’ she says after a while.
‘Of course, anything.’
‘Marina and Padre Alessandro. They’re together, right?’
He chuckles. ‘You noticed, eh?’
‘Not to put too fine a point on it, but I’m pretty sure every last person in that church noticed. So they’re a couple?’
He sighs. ‘They used to be when Marina lived in Rome. It was my fault, you know, that they were together in the first place.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Marina was engaged to a man here, Nico. He was a teacher like her.’
‘Wait, Marina’s a teacher?’
‘She was. Not any more. So, anyway, two months before the wedding to Nico, she found naked photos of her best friend, Helena, on his phone. They were all working in the same school. Helena was going to be her bridesmaid.’
‘Oh my God. That’s awful.’
‘Yes. Of course the engagement ended after this. Marina wanted to escape so she took a teaching position in Rome. But she had no friends there and I was worried about her being lonely. Her apartment was close to the Vatican. Alessandro was my old friend and he was an assistant to a bishop there.’
‘Oh, no.’
‘Oh, yes.’ He smiles a sheepish smile. ‘So I think to myself, who is better than a priest to look after my sister?’
Sophie laughs and the sound of it shocks her. It’s years since she’s been as distressed as she was in church, and now, just being around Rocco has calmed her enough that she can laugh. ‘I’m sorry,’ she says, still giggling, ‘but any idiot could’ve seen what would happen there.’
‘Are you calling me an idiot?’ He tilts his head, a smile on his face.
She links her fingers through his. ‘Indeed I am. You really think Alessandro comes across as someone who’s going to be strict about celibacy? He’s the poster boy for priests down to fuck.’
He snorts a laugh. ‘Be quiet, let me finish the story.’
‘Okay, go.’
‘So, as you were smart enough to predict, they became lovers.’
‘Shocked to my very core! Did you know though? At the time?’
‘Yes, she told me. I was not happy about it, but there was not much I could do. Nobody else knew for the two years they were together.’
‘They didn’t get caught?’
‘No. Alessandro did not have a parish, you understand. So it was only people who work at the Vatican who knew him in Rome. And let’s just say, he was not the only one doing what he was doing. So they turned a blind eye. At least this is what I think happened.’
‘Then what?’
‘Well, then, Marina was nearly thirty. She wanted to get married, start a family, the normal things.’
‘Let me guess, he wanted to keep being a priest and having her on the side?’
‘Exactly this.’
Alessandro immediately goes from hot to not in Sophie’s head.
‘So she came home from Rome, more heartbroken than when she left.’ He sighs. ‘She wanted a break from the classroom. So she started working here with us and that is how things stayed.’
‘Did she find another partner?’
‘No, nobody. She left Alessandro because she wanted children, and then she would not look at another man. Mamma is always trying to matchmake, but Marina has no interest.’
‘This is such a sad story.’
‘I know,’ he agrees. ‘She never stopped loving him. And now, this week, it is the first time they have seen each other in five years.’
‘Poor Marina.’
‘Mmm.’
They fall into silence again.
Rocco still hasn’t pried about her past, but she feels so close to him right now that she wants to share it with him. She takes a deep breath. ‘That hymn the choir sang tonight, “Ave Maria”. It brought back memories for me.’
He twirls a lock of her hair around his finger. ‘Bad memories?’
‘Yeah. Twenty years ago, my family went to Christmas Eve Mass, and the choir sang that hymn. When we went home that night, my mum killed my dad.’
Rocco’s jaw drops. ‘She ki—? Why? ’
‘He was violent. It was only a matter of time before he killed her, and possibly David and me. So’—she takes another big breath—‘she killed him first.’
‘ Santa Maria . I thought you said your father was wonderful?’
‘He was, and he wasn’t.’
He shakes his head. ‘I cannot believe this. Did you see her kill him?’
‘No. David and I were asleep. She dropped sleeping pills into his wine, then she smothered him with a pillow while he slept. When we woke up, she told us he wasn’t feeling well, that he was resting in bed. We opened our presents, the three of us had breakfast, and then she went to check on him. We heard her screaming and there he was, dead. She called the ambulance, they came and took him away and that was that.’
‘What do you mean “and that was that”? Your mother did not go to jail?’
‘No, she got away with it.’
‘How is this possible?’
‘The cause of death was inconclusive. Mum told the paramedics that after Mass Dad complained of chest pain. I suppose the coroner saw a fat middle-aged man with a history of heart disease, who’d mixed sleeping pills with alcohol, and it didn’t seem that unlikely that Dad died in his sleep.’
‘Gesù Cristo. So how did you know your mother killed him? She told you?’
‘Not for years and years. She only told me last month when I was at her place for dinner. She was very drunk. She didn’t remember it afterwards.’ Sophie fiddles with Rocco’s tie. ‘She still thinks I don’t know.’ She laughs nervously, worried she’s overshared. ‘It’s all very tragic, isn’t it?’
‘It is a tragedy. You were only a child.’ He rests his hand on her cheek.
‘It wasn’t much of a childhood before then anyway, if I’m honest.’
‘It makes me sad to know your life has been this hard. You have suffered.’
‘I’m okay now. Well, if you don’t count panic attacks at church.’ She gives him a small smile.
‘After what you have been through, to me you are amazing.’ He pulls her in close to him and she snuggles up to his chest.
‘So, now you know my story. What’s your story? Let’s hear it.’
‘My story? You really want to know?’
‘I do.’
‘Okay, I will tell you.’ His chest rises and falls. ‘You say your mother was drunk when she confessed. Is your mother an alcoholic?’
Sophie swallows. ‘She is.’
‘I should have told you this before now.’ He stops. ‘I am also an alcoholic.’
Her breath catches. ‘Oh.’
‘Yes. Oh. Exactly. I am sorry I have not told you until now.’
‘Why didn’t you?’ Her voice is strangled.
‘I was scared you would not want to be with me if you knew.’
She doesn’t answer.
‘Sophie, I have been sober for eight years, I promise you this is the truth. I am committed one hundred per cent to staying sober.’
‘I see.’
‘Do you want to hear the story of my addiction? It is a long story.’
‘I want to hear it,’ she says, even though she feels heavy inside. So unutterably heavy.
‘When I was twenty, I met a girl,’ he begins. ‘Gabriella. She came here to the hotel on holiday. After, I followed her to Milan. Her father owned a hotel, much bigger than this one, and I left here to work at that hotel. Anyway, we got married after a while.’
Sophie’s eyes almost pop out of her head. ‘Wait, what? You’re married?’ She thinks she might be sick.
He shakes his head violently. ‘Divorced. Divorced, for a long time. Don’t worry.’
She’s worried. She’s extremely worried. ‘Go on.’
‘It was not a happy marriage. We rushed into it. I felt stuck, I did not know what to do. She was a nice girl, but we had nothing in common. Everyone told us it was a mistake to get married, but we did not listen. We were young, we thought we knew everything better than anyone.’ He flings his arms about. ‘After we were married, I was not in love with her any more and she was not in love with me, but nobody gets divorced here. It is considered a big failure and I did not want to fail. I know this is not an excuse to drink, but that is what I did. And soon, it was a lot of drinking and then it was a big problem.’
‘Is that why you got divorced?’
‘Eventually, yes. But she stayed with me at first. I went to rehab for the first time when I was twenty-three.’
She raises her eyebrows. ‘The first time?’
‘There were four times,’ he admits.
‘Christ alive.’
‘I know. Every time I went I was okay for six months, sometimes up to one year, then I drank again. Finally, my parents sold the top floor of the hotel to pay for me to stay at a clinic that was very well known for being the best one in Europe. It was in Switzerland. Three and a half thousand euro a night. I stayed two months.’
‘Holy crap, that’s a lot of money.’
‘Yes. My parents risked everything for me. So, I went to this clinic, and it was finally there I realised I had to leave my wife. I understood that I was drinking to cover up the problems I had with Gabriella.’ He blows out through his nose. ‘I came back from Switzerland and we were divorced. I was twenty-seven and I have been sober since then.’
‘How did Gabriella take it?’
‘There was crying, of course. It was messy. But I think also she was relieved. After that I returned to Venice, broke, with no career, a failed marriage. It was a very low point for me. Because of me, my parents lost half the hotel. I had to do something to make it up to them. So I came up with the idea of the restaurant. And I helped build it and market it, and it gave me purpose, you know? It still gives me purpose. I like my life now, I like being sober. So that is my story, Sophie. I am so sorry I did not tell you. And I am sorry that this is who I am.’ He looks into her eyes, the angst written all over his face. ‘Say something, please.’
Her mouth is dry when she finally speaks. ‘How could you tell me you loved me before telling me about all of this? How could you let me fall for you without warning me?’
‘I was a coward. I am so sorry. What can I do to make it better?’
He’s so sincere, so worried, she can already feel herself wanting to reassure him. She doesn’t, though. She turns her head away from him and shuts her eyes.
So that’s the catch . She knew there had to be one. Of course she wasn’t just going to meet someone wonderful and have him love her without there being a catch.
That’s not how things go for her.