Chapter 41 Rafaella #3
Turning off the taps, she ran back to her bedroom and took off her sodden skirt, which was clinging to her thighs.
She changed into a plain dress, the plainest she could find, coming downstairs just a few minutes later.
He had already found the coffee and was setting the Bialetti pot on the stove.
He was so perfectly at home in her house, she had to wonder whether he let himself in while she was out.
She wouldn’t put it past him to go looking for things.
What, though? What was it he wanted from her?
He turned as she entered the room, taking in the sight of her lissom body now hidden beneath frumpy cotton, and gave a gloating smirk at her overt modesty.
‘So you were caught in the rain?’ he asked, conversational now.
‘Yes,’ she said, smoothing back her wet hair and beginning to loosely plait it. ‘I was at the market.’
She remembered again the lost basket, evidence of her trip there.
If Flavia was to ask, or him … Regret at her wild recklessness was beginning to creep up on her.
Had she lost her mind? If someone should have seen them …
Cosimo was in his seminarian’s uniform! She was a Giannelli wife!
And yet it had been unstoppable, worth any risk.
Flavia walked in, carrying the sheets. She stopped abruptly at the sight of Dante there, seeming to pale.
‘Signore Giannelli,’ she murmured, dropping her gaze to the floor.
Dante nodded, seeming to enjoy her deference. ‘Flavia.’ His voice was so low the word came out as more of a growl.
Flavia hurried through, setting the sheets in the washing basket before rushing from the room again. Dante’s eyes followed her until she was out of sight. Had something happened between them, Rafaella wondered.
‘Pretty girl,’ he murmured, watching as she made her way up the stairs.
Rafaella said nothing, wondering if he had forgotten he was married to her best friend – or just didn’t care.
He stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets as she walked past him to check the coffee. ‘… You know, most women wouldn’t be happy about having such an attractive woman around their husband.’
Rafaella made a noncommittal sound as she lifted the lid and peered in. There seemed little point in reminding him Flavia was also married, nor that Fon wasn’t like him, chasing down every skirt on the street. ‘Maybe I’m not most women, then.’
‘Tell me something I don’t know.’
Rafaella let the comment pass.
‘How are you finding her?’ he asked, watching as she moved around the kitchen, restless and unable to settle. She just wanted him gone.
‘She’s great,’ she said mildly. ‘I couldn’t do without her.
I think I could cope with four children, but the extra two is just …
’ She held her hands up in surrender, trying to look relaxed, to regain her dignity.
Whatever her private feelings about him, she reminded herself it was better to have Dante as a friend than an enemy.
‘I’m so grateful Gina offered her to us.
I know she must need the extra help too. ’
‘Well, she’ll have her soon enough now the father’s been found.’
Rafaella looked back at him. ‘What?’
‘Fon didn’t tell you?’
‘No.’ She frowned. ‘I mean, I know he was fed up waiting so he sent one of his team to look instead – but he hadn’t told me they’d found him.’
Dante rolled his eyes. ‘Well then, pretend you don’t know! He probably wanted to tell you himself and I’ve just ruined his big surprise.’
She stared at him. He said it as if it was a relief the father had been found and the children would be taken away from here, but she thought of the single-room house and its lack of sanitation and comfort, the one bed where their mother had died …
How could they possibly go back to that?
They had just started settling in here, finding a routine and eating well; she’d been reading to them in bed at night and making sure they got enough sleep.
She rubbed her face in her hands dejectedly. ‘This is a disaster.’
Dante scowled. ‘Why? You should be pleased! The family will be reunited. You did a good thing, taking them in like this, but clearly it was never a long-term solution.’
She knew he was right. She couldn’t just take someone’s six children because it had felt good having somewhere to put her love at last. But the thought of giving them up, of sending them back out there …
‘But the father,’ she pressed. ‘How’s he going to support them all?
Did he get a job in Brindisi? Is he going to move them up there? ’
Dante held his hands up at the rapid-fire questions. ‘Slow down … I don’t know and I don’t care.’ He shrugged. ‘That’s his business, not ours.’
Her mind was racing with disaster scenarios. She and he had both lived among poverty throughout their childhoods; they knew the toll it took on people. Or had he forgotten? Surely Dante could remember how it felt to go to bed with an empty stomach?
She couldn’t let it go so easily. ‘And what will he do now his wife is dead? Who will look after the children?’
‘He’ll find a job and he’ll remarry.’
‘But it’s not that easy … Can’t you give him a job?’
She knew she was pushing her luck, and as he looked back at her she felt the weight in his gaze, as if there was something to be negotiated. ‘Perhaps,’ he said finally. ‘I’ll think about it.’
‘Because those children deserve—’
‘It isn’t your concern any longer, Rafa!’ he said sharply, losing patience. ‘They’re not your kids. And more to the point, they’re not Fon’s.’ An edge to the words caught her attention and she pulled back, taking the pot off the heat and pouring them each a cup.
Dante watched her as she took a sip. ‘Every man needs his own bloodline.’
‘I know that,’ she said quietly.
‘So then, perhaps you should be concentrating more on having your own children than rescuing other people’s.’
‘I want to have children of my own. I do. I just can’t bear to think of these ones suffer—’
He interrupted her again. ‘Have you talked to any doctors?’
‘What?’
‘You and Fon. It should have happened by now. I’m not the only one to have noticed it. Mamma too is fretting. She thinks there must be something wrong.’
‘There’s nothing wrong!’ She felt offended that her intimate health was being discussed so freely by others.
‘You bleed every month?’
‘What?’ She couldn’t believe he was asking her these questions.
‘Just answer me.’
‘Y-yes, of course.’
‘And the act? How often do you do it?’
Her mouth opened in disbelief. Was this really happening? ‘… Enough.’
‘How often is that? Every day? Three times a week? Twice a month? What?’
‘Dante, I’m not telling you that! It’s private!’ Her cheeks flamed with shame that they were having this conversation.
‘He’s my brother, and you, as his wife, have one responsibility – to give him children. So I’ll ask you again, how many times do you do it?’
‘… It depends! There isn’t a schedule!’ Oh God – could he hear her lies? ‘Besides, he’s been on the road so much lately … I’ve scarcely seen him these past few weeks.’
Dante frowned; it was his turn to look surprised. ‘You mean he’s not coming back here at night?’
‘No, he’s been travelling.’
He didn’t reply, but she saw the slight narrowing of his eyes and could see he was holding something back. She could guess what: Fon was, in fact, coming back to Otranto each evening – but he was staying with his mistress.
She turned away, not wanting him to see that it suited her this way; that she would be happy if Fon never shared her bed again.
She heard Dante replace his cup on the table. ‘You know, there was a reason why I wanted to talk to you today, Rafa.’
Another one? ‘Oh?’
‘How has Fon seemed to you lately?’
She frowned. ‘Fine.’
‘Fine? He hasn’t seemed distracted? Low?’
‘Low?’ She met Dante’s eyes as he stared back at her, always regarding her so closely. ‘No. Why? What’s going on?’
He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. ‘I’m worried about him. He’s not been himself recently. I wondered if you had noticed it too.’
She shook her head. ‘But then, he’s been away so much … Do you think he could be staying away deliberately?’
‘I’m sure not,’ he replied offhandedly.
Rafaella lapsed into thought, trying to think of reasons why Fon would avoid coming back here. ‘… He hasn’t been thrilled about having the children here, but I didn’t think it was anything more than an irritation to him.’
‘And you didn’t think to relieve your husband’s irritation by getting rid of them?’
‘They’re children,’ she protested. ‘They had nowhere else to go.’
‘They could have gone to the orphanage. Children go there every day.’ Dante regarded her as if she had disappointed him. ‘You know, there’s nothing Fon wouldn’t do for you, Rafa. My brother loves you very much.’
‘I do know that,’ she swallowed.
‘The question is – do you love my brother?’ She felt them moving into choppy waters again. She remembered the edge to his words the night of the dinner with Bruno Collura and his wife, the insinuation that she was failing in some way …
‘He’s my husband, isn’t he?’
‘We both know they’re not one and the same thing.’
‘… I love him, Dante.’
‘Are you in love with him?’
She didn’t reply immediately. Cosimo’s kisses were still upon her lips; her blood was still racing from his touch. Her every waking moment for the past three years had been a lie, and now she was being pressed on semantics? ‘I don’t know what you want me to say to that.’
‘It’s an easy enough question. You’re supposed to say you are.’
She threw her hands in the air, frustrated. ‘Well, I’m sorry, but being “in love” isn’t something that can be conjured at will,’ she replied, the words bursting from her in a rush. ‘I married him. As I agreed to do. You can’t force my feelings as well as my actions.’
‘… Is that what we’ve done?’ A dangerous tone glinted in the question. ‘I don’t recall making you do anything against your will. As I remember it, you were the one who made the offer to Fon.’
Rafaella looked away, her heart thudding in her chest. She was shocked she had said the words aloud.
It was the first time she had ever alluded to the shadowy manoeuvrings of the brothers in the months following Romola’s death.
She had acted in good faith cutting that deal – Cosimo’s freedom for her hand – unaware she was just one such transaction as they steadily ramped up their pressure tactics in the port and stepped into power.
They had been clever about it. Nothing was ever too conspicuous, just a litany of small acts of attrition designed to wear down resistance: intermittently cutting off the water supply to the port, damaging some trees in the groves, reducing the oil yield of the villagers’ olive harvests …
It was the very pettiness of the grievances that meant nothing could ever be said.
But the wider knowledge of what was happening had hovered unarticulated in the port, fear and suspicion growing among the villagers as confirmation was transmitted with dark looks.
Rafaella’s father had tried his best to keep her out of the Giannellis’ clutches when she had announced her engagement to Fon, but for reasons she could not disclose, she had refused to change her mind.
The brothers’ reach had grown quickly. Everyone saw the explosion in their wealth but no one could account for it, and its unexplained presence only furthered the whispered rumours of ill-gotten gains and corruption.
In the space of a few years, people were saying they had politicians in their pockets, the police chief and council leaders too, not just in Tricase but in the Salento region overall …
For all this time, Rafaella had kept her suspicions and misgivings to herself. But no longer.
‘I’m a good wife to him, Dante,’ she said quietly. ‘I do what is asked of me and, in all truth, it is no great hardship; Fon has only ever been sweet and gentle to me.’ That much was true. ‘But asking me to be in love with him? … Some things are simply not possible.’
She saw an ugly look come into Dante’s eyes at her small act of resistance as he took several steps towards her, standing so close she could smell the coffee on his breath.
‘Well, let me tell you what is going to be possible, Rafaella,’ he murmured, looking down at her, and she felt a frisson of terror that the thing she feared most from him – a horror she had never dared to acknowledge to herself – was finally in the room with them.
‘You’re going to give my brother what he wants – what he needs – to have: children.
A son.’ His gaze ran over her and she saw a shiver of lust in his eyes, like the flicking of a lizard’s tongue. ‘Get him to put a boy in you.’
She caught her breath, knowing what was coming next.
‘Or I will.’