Chapter 34
I’ve hardly stood still all day.
First thing this morning, I showed Luisa and her team the hole Archie fell down.
Part of me worried we might have committed some kind of crime by poking around on what’s effectively an archaeological site, but all the diggers were thrilled and went down the ladder to explore.
They didn’t just find a shaft but a whole chamber, although they’ve said they need to call in specialized structural engineers to check it’s safe before they do any further exploration.
Luisa told us they were planning to move onto this section of the site next week, but we didn’t mention this to Archie: we told him he was a hero for finding a secret room.
He lapped up the glory and loved showing everyone his crutches.
After this, we set up Archie with all his action figures on a rug on a shaded section of the lawn, while I supervised the cleaning of the new kitchen.
It’s stunning, with maple wood units, paprika red tiles, counter tops in Carrara marble, and a central island with a breakfast bar and three stools.
It still has the same stone floors, together with the chestnut beams and big fireplace—although the soot has been blasted off the back and the witch’s cauldron relegated to the wine store—but is a much more sociable space, with a much better flow.
Not to mention a built-in double oven, a dishwasher, and a fridge freezer with enough space not just for our food and drink, but Mabel’s and my skincare products.
Once everything was clean, we dismantled the temporary kitchen and moved down all the crockery, pots, pans and appliances.
The four of us chatted as we worked, and Theo did bring up the subject of what we’d found out about Kate, but neither Mabel nor Callum wanted to go there.
All they’d say was that Mabel had found out by mistake the day before we flew here and immediately told Callum.
Archie had no idea—and still doesn’t, which is how we’ve agreed things will stay.
At four o’clock, our work is done and I switch my attention onto the job I was hoping to do yesterday afternoon, before Archie had his accident: I’m going to Lucca to see if I can find a jeweler that wants to buy Arnaldo’s cigarette case.
When I first had the idea of selling something to pay Giuseppe’s mounting bills, I ruled out anything of sentimental value.
But then Angelika mentioned that Wilf hated Arnaldo smoking—so I decided it would actually be perfectly appropriate to sell his cigarette case.
It was quite dirty when I found it, but I cleaned and polished it and it looks like it’s in perfect condition.
I’ve no idea how old it is but the clasp still works and the elastic strap to keep the cigarettes in place is—miraculously—still intact.
Theo and I did search online for antique gold cigarette cases but found such a wide range—selling for such a range of prices—it was impossible to gauge how much Arnaldo’s is worth.
There is some kind of hallmark on it but it doesn’t mean anything to either of us.
I tell the kids my plan but downplay the extent of my money worries—I just say I’m looking to cover a few unforeseen expenses.
Theo needs to stay at the house to look after Archie and is going to teach him how to get better at walking on his crutches.
I was going to ask Callum and Mabel if they wanted to come with me but I sense they’re still hurting from last night’s conversation with Kate.
Until, that is, Callum appears in the doorway and swaps his sliders for trainers.
“I’m coming with you,” he announces.
My heart gives a little leap. “Oh, fab. But are you sure?”
He fastens his shoelaces and springs onto his feet. “Yeah, in case you need backup. I don’t want anyone taking advantage of you.”
I grin and Theo pats him on the back. “Thanks, Cal.”
During the drive, I tell Callum I’ve found three jewelers that, according to their websites, buy secondhand gold.
The first is situated on Lucca’s main shopping street, Via Fillungo.
When we arrive outside, we see it has a beautiful old front, with ornate carved wooden display cases and the shop name in gold lettering.
I already know the business was established in 1655 and claims to be the oldest jewelry store in Italy.
Plus, an ancestor of the family that owns it apparently set the jewels in the crown of the sculpture of Jesus in Lucca’s cathedral.
But I didn’t look up any pictures of the shop and didn’t expect it to be so grand.
I feel the excitement leak out of me. They’re not going to be interested in my little cigarette case. It probably isn’t even real gold.
“Come on,” says Callum. “Shall we do it?”
I don’t have the heart to let him down, so open the door.
We step inside, under vaulted ceilings painted with frescoes and hanging with crystal chandeliers. There’s a checked marble floor and more ornately carved display cases, these ones lined with plush blue velvet. In them stands a dazzling array of antique jewels, silver and gold.
“This is going to be embarrassing,” I whisper to Callum. “Let’s abort mission.”
“Buonasera!” calls an elderly man from behind the counter. He has white, receding hair and a moustache and is wearing a plum-colored suit and leaning on an antique silver-topped cane. “Posso aiutarla?”
“Go on,” says Callum, giving me a nudge in the small of my back. “I’m right behind you.”
“Buonasera,” I begin. Then I slip into English. “I’m looking to sell something. But you know what, you’re probably not interested.”
“I am interested in all beautiful things,” the man corrects me, as he walks towards us. “Please, show me.”
I approach the counter and hand over the case.
The man rests his cane on the side and pulls out some kind of big x-ray gun that he presses onto the gold and fires, giving himself a reading.
He also weighs it on a set of digital scales and touches a magnet to it.
Then he holds it up to the light, turning it a few times and peering in to examine the detail.
He does this for so long that my eyes wander to the jewelry in the display cases.
I spot an M on a chain that reminds me of the S Mum used to wear and run up and down the chain as she was talking.
I clear my throat. “So what do you think?” I ask the man.
“Bello,” he says, approvingly. “Bellissimo.” His face may be wrinkled and marked with liver spots but his eyes are bright and engaged.
I lean on the marble counter. “What, so you like it?”
“Yes, very much.” He runs his finger over the edges and tests the clasp. “Cases like this were typically given by wealthy families to their sons on important birthdays. In Italy, the eighteenth birthday is more important than the twenty-first.”
I winch an eyebrow in interest but my attention has snagged on the word wealthy. That sounds promising.
The man takes out a magnifying glass to read the hallmark. “Like all cigarette cases made by this atelier, this is eighteen carat gold.”
Callum shoots me a look, as if to say, Is that good?
In return, I shrug: I’ve no experience of dealing with gold. I don’t even think I’ve owned any.
“It was made in 1939,” the man goes on. “As you know, that is the year war broke out.”
“Of course.” I’m about to add that my great-granddad fought in the war but stop myself when I remember he fought on the opposite side. If my great-granddad bore a grudge, maybe this guy does, too.
“These cases were very exclusive and made to commission,” the man goes on, not taking his eyes off it. “Only a handful were made each year, but in 1939 people did not want to spend their money as they did not know what was coming. So the atelier made only one.”
I push myself up from the counter. “One? And this is it?”
The man puts the case down and looks me in the eye. “Yes. I have always wondered where it was. And now it is here.”
Behind me, a clock chimes. I can’t see it but it sounds old, with cogs and wheels turning. I glance at Callum and he nods, urging me on.
“So how much is it worth?” I ask.
The man takes a pad of headed notepaper and writes down a figure. He rips off the top sheet and slides it across the counter. “This is what I offer you.”
“Fuck!” I blurt out. I turn to Callum. “Sorry.”
“Fuck!” Callum repeats. “Let’s not tell Dad.”
The man behind the counter chortles. “Or as we say in Italian, mamma mia.”
“Mamma mia!” Callum and I chime, loudly.
“So you are happy?” asks the man, his eyes moist and sparkling.
“Yes,” I almost screech, “we’ll take it!”
Callum elbows me. “Wait a minute, we’ve got an appointment at that other place, remember?”
“Do we?” I’m about to ask. Then I realize he’s reminding me to stick to the plan. “Oh, sorry, yes. We’re going to shop around, if you don’t mind. But we’ll be back in touch.”
I pick up the case and hurry out of the shop before I can change my mind. “Arrivederci!” I call out over my shoulder.
The man shouts something back but the door closes before he can finish.
I stagger to the nearest wall and lean on it. “I can’t believe it,” I splutter. “I had no idea.”
“Me neither,” says Callum, his face ablaze. “That is proper mint!”
My heart feels like it’s going to burst out of my ribcage and I gulp in some air. As it’s the start of the passeggiata, the street is thronged with people, buggies and dogs. It’s so noisy and colorful it’s making me dizzy.
“Are you alright?” asks Callum.
“Yeah, sorry, it’s just I really needed it to be good news,” I manage, straightening myself up. “But this means I can pay for all the extra building work and can stop worrying about money.”
Callum frowns. “I didn’t know you were worried about money.”
“Well, yeah,” I say. “But not anymore. That bloke’s offer will pay for everything, with quite a bit leftover. Are you sure we shouldn’t just take it?”
Callum squares his shoulders and stands with his legs apart. “No, we’re doing the right thing. That dude seemed legit and everything but it’s only our first offer: we might get even more from the next place.”
I nod. But I feel a spasm of self-doubt. “Just a minute, can I really sell it?”
Callum pulls at his fringe. “Why do you say that?”
“I don’t know, it just feels like it doesn’t really belong to me. Like I’ve stolen it or something.”
“Who from? Who else could it belong to?”
A blond woman carrying a sausage dog walks past and scowls at us.
“I don’t know,” I answer. “Signor Mancini did say I inherited the house and everything in it. But what if Arnaldo has some younger relatives kicking about?”
Callum shrugs. “So what if he does? That case legally belongs to you. And anyway, why should his family get their hands on it?”
I lean back on the wall. “Well, they paid for it, presumably.”
“But it was a present. And they disowned him, didn’t they?”
I fold my arms. “Yeah. They were total homophobes.”
“Well, it serves them right then.”
I push myself off the wall. “Callum, you are spot on.”
I take out my phone and look up the address of the next jeweler’s.
“Are we off, then?” says Callum.
“Yeah, let’s make some money.”