Chapter 69 Loretta
L ORETTA
The family gathers in the restaurant for lunch.
Sophie clears her throat and announces that she has a request from Elena. ‘She wants to get a message to Padre Alessandro to meet her at her mother’s apartment on Saturday and to take them to the Vatican and hide them there.’ She gives Marina an apologetic smile.
‘It is not possible,’ Marina answers before anyone else can. ‘Alessandro is not planning a return to Rome yet.’
Loretta snaps her head towards Marina. ‘How do you know what il padre’s plans are?’
Marina gulps. ‘I ... ah ... His mother told me when they were here the other day.’
‘If it means getting Elena to safety, of course he would agree to return earlier,’ Chiara says.
Marina gives her cousin a filthy stare. ‘How do we even know he can hide her there? He is an assistant to a bishop. He is not the Pope. What power does he have to hide people in the Vatican?’
Chiara frowns. ‘He can try!’
‘Fine. I will go to San Zaccaria and ask him.’ Marina sighs.
‘ I will go.’ Rocco gives her a look.
‘No, I will go,’ she shoots back.
So Rocco knows about Alessandro and Marina. By the look on her face, Sophie clearly knows too. Is there anyone who doesn’t know, or was Loretta the only fool?
‘What if Alessandro says no?’ Salvatore says. ‘Do we know anyone else who can hide her?’
In that moment, it all becomes apparent to Loretta. God sent Flavia back to Venice not to torture her, but to save Elena. It was all part of His plan. Flavia may have lost her faith, but the Lord is still doing His work through her. Any doubts Loretta has been harbouring about her faith these last couple of days vanish, just like that.
Her heart is racing with hope. She can turn her sin, her shame, into something good.
‘I know a nun living at the Vatican who can hide Elena and Anna-Maria in the monastery,’ she says. ‘All Alessandro will have to do is accompany them there.’
‘That’s perfect!’ Sophie’s face lights up.
‘Which nun at the Vatican do you know?’ Alberto squints at her.
‘I will tell you about it on our walk,’ she replies, pretending not to notice his expression. ‘I will call her now.’ She leaves the table and locks herself in the bathroom to make the call.
‘Amore! You’ve changed your mind?’ Flavia answers breathlessly.
Loretta’s stomach squeezes at the sound of her voice. ‘No, sorry. I need something from you.’ She tells Flavia about Elena.
‘Of course we can take care of them, for as long as they need.’
‘Grazie, I’m so grateful to you.’
When the details are sorted, she hangs up and takes a cleansing breath before she walks back into the kitchen.
Alberto’s watching her. As soon as they lock eyes, she knows that he knows. While the others carry on the conversation around him, his eyes bore straight through her, the pain and anger clear in his stare.
She thinks she might be sick.
‘Are you ready for our walk?’ He stands.
‘I’m ready.’ With trembling hands, she slips her feet into knee-high rubber boots and puts on her raincoat and headscarf.
‘Shall we go to the park?’ he says when they’re outside. ‘I don’t want to see any more stupid art exhibits.’
‘We can go anywhere you want to go.’
Together they wade through the flooded Piazza San Marco in silence. It’s unbearably quiet without him singing or humming.
The crowds are smaller than other days this week. People are scared of the water. Thankfully there’s a break in the rain and they find a bench to sit on in Giardini Reali. The pansies are in bloom, splashing purple and orange throughout the park. The bell tower stands proud behind the trees. The garden is free of tourists. Their only company is the pigeons playing happily in the deep puddles.
It amazes Loretta how few tourists know this beautiful park is here, when it borders the most famous square in all of Venice. People’s lack of curiosity about their surroundings is extraordinary.
Alberto lights a cigarette, and she edges a little further away from him on the bench, too nervous to tell him off.
‘The gardeners are lazy. Look at the weeds,’ he says.
She doesn’t answer. They sit in silence. On any other day it would have been a companionable silence. Alberto finishes his cigarette and stubs it out on the pavement with his boot before bending down to pick it up and putting it in his coat pocket.
Finally, he speaks. ‘It’s her, isn’t it? The Vatican nun.’
‘Yes.’
‘I was a fool to trust you when you told me it was over. I should never have married you.’
His words feel like a kick in the throat. ‘It was over! You weren’t a fool. I swear to you, the first I heard from her since the day I met you was last week.’
‘Last week? Why last week, suddenly?’
‘She came looking for me. I don’t know why, after all these years, but that’s what happened.’
His eyebrows shoot up. ‘What do you mean she came looking for you? She was here ? You saw her?’
She nods. ‘I was going to tell you.’
‘When?’
‘Today.’
He snorts. ‘That’s convenient. You were going to tell me after I figured it out.’
‘That’s not why. I promise you I was going to tell you today.’
‘Is that where you went sneaking off to this morning? To see her?’ His tone is harsh. Alberto’s tone is never harsh.
‘No. She’s back in Rome. She’s not coming back. I went for a walk by myself this morning. I felt guilty, I needed some air.’
‘Guilty about what? What did you do?’ His jaw drops. ‘Wait a minute! The nun at Mass. Was that her?’
Loretta hangs her head.
‘You were singing with her while I stood right next to you.’
She can’t speak.
He lights another cigarette, flicking the lighter with more force than needed.
She finds her voice. ‘Please don’t smoke. Think of your heart. When are we going to go to Luca and tell him you’re prepared to have the surgery?’
He looks at her with disgust. ‘It’s not the cigarette that’s bad for my heart, it’s my wife.’ He takes a deep drag. ‘Tell me everything. And don’t lie. I deserve the truth.’
So she tells him. He listens and he smokes, and the pigeons dance in the water. The secrets pour from her, one after the other, until there’s nothing he doesn’t know.
They’ve had more arguments than she can count over the years, but never has he looked at her with this kind of contempt.
‘Did you fuck her when she was here this week?’ The venom drips from his voice.
She feels so fragile, so vulnerable, that it’s as if her skin has peeled away and left her organs exposed. ‘No. We only kissed that one time.’
He laughs to himself. It’s a bitter hollow sound. ‘ Only. You only broke our marriage vows once? Brava.’
‘I’m sorry. I know how badly I’ve hurt you.’
‘You know nothing,’ he spits. ‘Nothing.’ His wheeze is louder than usual. Every breath he takes is more laboured than the last.
‘I didn’t tell you,’ he says, ‘how painful that heart attack was. It was like being stabbed between the ribs.’
‘Oh, Alberto.’
‘I thought nothing could hurt me more than that.’ He stops. ‘I was wrong.’
She bites on her cheek. ‘Mi dispiace, caro. I don’t deserve you to forgive me.’
‘No. You don’t.’ He puffs on the cigarette. ‘I loved you from the moment our parents introduced us. I wanted to heal that broken heart of yours. I thought I could make you happy, that we could be happy, together. How stupid I was.’
‘You’re not stupid,’ she whispers.
He exhales. ‘So, what happens now?’
‘Well.’ She sighs. ‘What I want to happen is for you to have the operation and for me to spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you. But what I want doesn’t matter. What happens now is up to you.’
‘I never want you to speak to her or see her again.’
‘I won’t.’
‘How can I believe you, Loretta?’ His voice cracks, making her gut twist with guilt.
‘I promise.’
He lets out a shaky sigh and stands up. ‘Let’s go home, I’m tired.’ He cocks his elbow for her.
Her knees creak painfully as she stands.
They link arms and walk slowly through the water along the lanes back to the hotel, ignoring the planks that have been laid down over the worst of the flood. Neither of them speaks.
Once they’re back inside the lobby of Il Cuore, she says, ‘I’m calling the hospital to book in your heart surgery.’
‘Do what you want.’ His voice is flat, his expression dull.
Ten minutes after she calls the hospital, an administrator rings her back with a date for Alberto to have the defibrillator inserted.
‘Surgery’s booked for you in eight days,’ she tells him after hanging up.
He doesn’t respond apart from a long sigh. She’s broken him. She’s broken Alberto.
She couldn’t hate herself more.