Chapter 20 Fon #2
Fon stood awkwardly, unable to find an obvious place where he should sit too – there was no space on the towel with the girls, and sitting behind Rafaella would set him outside the group.
He turned and looked back down at the cove instead.
He had only ever been here a couple of times – his father always used to say it was too far to justify the fuel.
But that wasn’t something they had to worry about anymore.
Far below, the water sparkled an emerald green so clear that he could see the fish darting.
Fede had been right; the water really was lovely here.
There were a few groups of sunbathers on the beach, some others floating in the shallows, but the trek down there was so steep, most people went to the other coves with easier access.
Usually only people with boats came in here.
‘Do you really think they’ll build a bridge?’ he asked no one in particular.
‘Yes,’ Fede nodded authoritatively. ‘The permission has already been granted.’
Dante gave a small laugh. ‘Well, of course it has.’
‘What do you mean by that?’ Fede asked, seeming puzzled by his tone.
‘Only that your father is not slow to issue building permits,’ Dante said with a shrug. ‘He’s a great friend to “developers”, I hear.’
Fede’s mouth set in a grim line. ‘You shouldn’t believe all you read in the newspapers.’
‘You assume he can read?’ Romola asked tartly, quick-witted and sharp-tongued as ever.
Instantly the sky contracted around them.
It was a return to form, the sort of imperious comment she would always have made in the past – and in the past, the Giannellis would have had to take it.
But her position was no longer unassailable.
She had compromised herself with Fon, and everyone here knew it.
Everyone but Romola, it seemed. She had missed a lot during her retreat after the party.
‘But he’s right, of course,’ she continued, oblivious to the new order. ‘Papa is a great friend to developers – and many other influential people besides. He’s got the prime minister in his pocket. He owns the entire cabinet.’
‘Now who’s believing everything they read?’ Dante smirked.
‘Oh, it’s no vain boast.’
‘No?’
Romola shrugged. ‘We’ve all seen it for ourselves.’
‘Seen what?’
‘The diary our father keeps. He’s got all their secrets—’
‘Romola!’ Fede snapped, shooting her a sharp look. He didn’t like immodesty. ‘That’s enough.’
‘What?’ she shrugged. ‘I’m only giving him some friendly advice not to upset the wrong people.’ She flashed a look in Dante’s direction, refusing to be intimidated by the older man.
There was a pause, and Fon wondered whether the ceasefire had fallen already. But to his surprise—
‘Well, then, amen to that,’ Dante said with rare docility. ‘I’ll try to remember my place next time. What would I know about such things? I am, after all, the son of a humble fisherman.’
A tension settled over the group – there wasn’t much that was humble about the speedboat on which they’d arrived – and Fon watched as Dante caught Gina’s eye and winked again, as if he’d refrained from arguing just for her sake. Gina smiled, grateful and flattered by the courtesy.
‘Well, when they do build the bridge, I’ll jump it,’ Cosimo said with a grin.
‘Of course you will!’ Romola rolled her eyes, bored by her brother’s boast. ‘Because that’s absolutely worth dying for!’
‘Is it deep enough?’ Fon asked, peering down as he looked over the edge. The water quickly ran from emerald green through to sapphire blue. It was an innocuous enough question – or so he had thought.
‘Of course. It’s just a question of nerve.’
Fon immediately heard the jibe in the comment; Cosimo was trying to make him look small in front of the girls, thinking he was still dealing with the old Fon of yesteryear. ‘Yeah, you’re right. It wouldn’t bother me.’
‘No?’ Cosimo chuckled, clearly disbelieving.
‘Of course not.’
‘Well, you could always jump from here,’ Cosimo suggested. ‘Why wait years for them to build the bridge? It would only be a few metres higher than this anyway.’
The girls stiffened as the boys’ boasts began to escalate.
‘What? No! You can’t jump from all the way up here!’ Gina protested. They’d been jumping from the rocks halfway down a few minutes earlier, but up here they had to be thirty-something metres high.
But it was too late. The gauntlet had been thrown down and Fon knew he had to act. He couldn’t lose face in front of his brother, nor Rafaella. ‘I’m game if you are.’
‘… Sure. No problem.’
Fon saw the way Rafaella’s head whipped round as Cosimo was brought into his own dare. ‘But you can’t!’ she gasped, protesting now too.
‘Rafa’s right, this is madness, Cosi – even for you! It’s too high,’ Romola said, looking alarmed.
Fon waited for someone’s – anyone’s, his own girlfriend’s – attention to lift off Cosimo and settle upon him instead, but he might as well have been invisible. It was several moments before Rafaella even seemed to remember him; her gaze always swung to Cosimo as if he was her magnetic north.
‘Fon, you could be hurt,’ Fede said.
‘Oh, don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine,’ Fon replied, but he was surprised to see Fede’s genuine concern.
A beat pulsed between them before Fede, seeing his appeal to reason had failed, turned to his brother instead.
‘Cosi,’ he said warningly. ‘Don’t be rash.
’ He was looking at Cosimo with open alarm.
Fon knew his own brother felt no such apprehension for him – Dante would rather see Fon die in an act of bravery than survive as a coward. He had to be bold. Grasp the nettle.
‘We’ll dive, yes?’ he said, and began swinging his arms in alternating criss-crosses over his body, warming up and hiding his nerves. ‘Jumping’s far too boring.’
Fede looked at him again with a silent entreaty to stop raising the stakes, and Fon understood suddenly the connection between them: they were the sensible ones in their families, the diplomats, the ones no one would think capable of anything reckless or wild.
Cosimo always outshone Fede, just as Dante always outshone Fon …
Fon swallowed, wishing he could oblige Fede in this, but it was too late.
Cosimo showed no sign of backing down. ‘Well, of course,’ he said. ‘It’s not worth bothering with a jump.’
‘No, please,’ Rafaella said now, pushing up onto her knees and beseeching them both. ‘I really don’t like this. It’s far too risky.’
‘Don’t worry – Cosi will be fine,’ Romola said pointedly, and Fon found her gaze pinned on him with contempt, as if he was something she’d found stuck to her shoe.
She seemed to have forgotten that she had been the one to throw herself upon him at the party, her lips on his neck and her hands scrabbling at his belt.
Wordlessly, he moved right to the edge of the rocks and looked down. The cliffs were steep and vertiginous here, but small rockfalls caused bulging in some places. If they misjudged and picked the wrong spot, or didn’t leap forward far enough, they would break their necks.
Fon was regretting ever opening his mouth.
He was regretting chasing over here out of fear that Cosimo would lure Rafaella away from him, as he did in his nightmares …
But he also knew those fears weren’t unfounded.
There was a magnetism between the two of them that he could detect even though they were standing apart, not looking at one another.
It was silent, invisible, but it was there.
He knew it even if the others did not – even if they themselves did not!
It breathed and had a pulse. It was alive in spite of absence and distance and arguments. In spite of him, her boyfriend.
Cosimo had chosen his spot a few feet away and, as he glanced across, Fon saw the uneasiness in his face as he checked out his rival’s position.
Was Fon’s better? Safer? The bravado had slipped at last and as Cosimo looked straight at him, bruised and strangely sunburnt, Fon glanced pointedly at Cosimo’s injured hand.
The thumb wasn’t splinted now – taken off, no doubt, while he swam – but it was swollen and bruised black and blue.
From this height, they would need to use their flexed hands as buffers to absorb the impact and protect their heads …
He felt his confidence grow. ‘Ready?’ he smiled.
Cosimo nodded. For Fon, this boiled down to honour; for Cosimo, ego. They were locked in a battle of wills and neither would fall back.
‘Dante, count us down,’ Fon said, swinging his arms up, feeling himself become bigger, taller, more expansive … The momentum was with him. It was now or never.
‘Three!’ Dante cried from behind them – the only person here who wanted to see this happen – and Fon braced himself for the coming moment when he would become airborne: he envisaged his feet leaving the rocks as he soared up and outwards, as if leaping over a rainbow.
‘Two!’
He imagined Rafaella’s eyes on him, tracking his flight, before gravity caught him in its clutches and he began the inevitable plunge down. He saw it all.
‘… One!’