Chapter 41
I pedal my exercise bike in silence. It’s the morning after I read the email from Auntie Julie and I’ve hardly slept.
Theo and I stayed up late, talking over what she’d told me.
Imagining that sickening feeling Mum must have experienced when she realized she’d been used and tossed aside, rather than finding herself at the center of a great, life-changing love affair.
Empathizing with her anger as she understood Gary was going to restart the cycle all over again with another woman, having upended her life with little or no regard for her feelings.
From down in the valley comes the sound of a bus tooting its horn.
It’s seven a.m. and I’ve already been up for an hour.
I decided there was no point lying in bed any longer, twisting and flinging myself from one side to the other, staring at the walls of Wilf and Arnaldo’s old bedroom.
We’ve had them painted the same honeycomb as the buildings on the Piazza dell’Anfiteatro—a color I would have enjoyed if I had the slightest capacity for enjoyment.
I grip the handles tighter and pedal a bit faster.
It’s as if Julie’s email has made me feel a whole new loss: it’s only now I know Mum’s story that I can actually grieve.
It’s only now I realize that I didn’t grieve properly when she died.
I couldn’t have: I didn’t have a full enough picture of what had happened.
I understand why people kept certain details from me but this meant I sensed something didn’t add up, so Mum’s death didn’t seem wholly real.
But now it is real—thumpingly, heart-splittingly, gut-wrenchingly real.
I finish my workout, stretch and shower.
I don’t know what Theo’s told the kids but they must understand something’s wrong because they all keep a respectful distance and don’t bother me.
After we’ve eaten—in the kitchen because the builders are working outside—we toss our squeezed oranges off the hill and I manage to raise the hint of a smile.
At least I still have lots of work to do so can’t sink into a pit of despair.
I carry the recycling up through the olive grove—today’s the day for multimateriale, or tin, plastic and polystyrene.
I take delivery of a new wardrobe and the sofa bed for the cottage, only for Archie to spill a can of Coke Zero all over the sofa, which I then have to clean up.
And I listen to Giuseppe tell me there’s a problem with the plaster in the bedroom of the cottage: some of it has started coming away from the wall.
I don’t understand why, when the plaster everywhere else is perfect.
But I don’t have the capacity to take in what he’s saying so ask him to just do whatever’s needed.
And all morning I ache with sadness for my mum. My misguided, impressionable, passionate, romantic Mum. A woman who was still young, just thirty-five when she died. And a woman I finally understand.
“Be careful, gang!” warns Theo.
Once the diggers have left the castle, Luisa takes us down into the underground chamber.
I’m still feeling subdued and am much quieter than usual, but I’m surprised to feel a flurry of enthusiasm as I climb down the ladder.
The second my head goes underground and I catch sight of the chamber—illuminated by several portable lights Luisa has positioned around the edges—I’m entranced.
It’s about twice as high as Theo is tall, and almost as spacious as the wine store or the big lounge in the house.
It has a vaulted ceiling and stone walls held together by some kind of mortar.
And along these walls are several arrow slits, some of them filled in, some letting through thin slashes of sunlight.
“This slaps!” gushes Callum.
“Oh my god, it’s unreal!” squeaks Mabel.
They’re not wrong. I can’t believe this massive space was lying underground, undiscovered for so long. Hundreds of years, possibly.
“Is it a dungeon?” asks Archie.
Luisa screws up her nose. “I’m sorry to say I don’t think so. If you look at that wall, you can see what would have been a fireplace and a chimney.”
As I move closer, I almost twist my ankle on the uneven ground, but grab onto the wall just in time. “Oh, yeah.”
We’re all fascinated, but Archie looks disappointed.
“It’s also too big for a dungeon,” Luisa goes on, tucking a strand of her short hair behind her ear. “Prisoners wouldn’t have been given so much space.”
“So what was it?” asks Theo.
Luisa runs her hands down her cargo shorts. “I expect it formed part of the main palace. And we need to keep investigating, but the most probable answer is it was some kind of dwelling.”
“What’s that?” says Archie.
“A living space, a home,” answers Luisa.
“For a knight?” asks Archie.
Luisa angles her head. “Well, a chamber this size wouldn’t have belonged to anyone insignificant. So it could have been a knight, yes.”
Archie gives a satisfied smile.
“Or a princess,” points out Mabel, suddenly looking much younger than thirteen.
“Or a king!” throws in Callum, not bothering to disguise his excitement.
“It’s unbelievable,” I say. “And here we are standing in the same spot a thousand years later.”
Luisa gives a half-turn. “And just think, if we’ve found this chamber, there may be more—lots more. Who knows what we might uncover?”
Theo ruffles Archie’s hair. “What do you think, squirt? Are you happy?”
“Yeah,” says Archie. And he gives another smile.
I look at him and find myself smiling, too.
When we return to the house, Theo goes to do some work and Archie disappears to play, but I notice Callum and Mabel muttering between themselves, shielding their mouths with their hands. What are they up to?
They approach the cottage and call over Giuseppe.
Suspicious, I climb the short wooden ladder into the space above the garage that we call the grain store.
I close the door behind me and peer through the ventilation slats.
I have a perfect view of Callum, Mabel and Giuseppe standing in the doorway to the cottage.
“We overheard your conversation with Arjan,” begins Callum, his feet set apart. “We heard you trying to get him to redo that plaster. So we know he refused to work in the bedroom of two gay men.”
Giuseppe twists his wedding ring round his finger. “Yes, he does say that.”
“But you let him get away with it,” Mabel interjects. “You didn’t challenge him.”
Giuseppe throws up his arms. “What do you want I say? He is the best plasterer in the area.”
“But he wouldn’t plaster that room,” Callum points out. “And now it’s falling off and he won’t fix it.”
“Yes, this is true,” Giuseppe concedes. “I have to ask my other men to do it. But Arjan continues working in all the other rooms of the house.”
“Well, I don’t feel comfortable seeing him,” Callum states, firmly.
“We’re not comfortable with him in our home,” adds Mabel.
I feel butterflies in my stomach.
Giuseppe shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “Children, thank you for your help. But now I speak to Adam.”
Mabel steps forward. “No, we don’t want you to do that. Adam’s had a lot going on and is sad today.”
Giuseppe runs his hand over his jet-black buzz cut. “OK, I speak to your father.”
“We don’t want you to do that, either,” Mabel says. “Dad’s already had to handle one lot of homophobia. We don’t want him dealing with any more.”
“It took him a long time to come out,” Callum explains. “He deserves to be happy.”
Pride rushes into me, sweeping away my ache for Mum.
Giuseppe, however, frowns. “What do you want I do?”
Callum and Mabel look at each other, as if to bolster their conviction.
“We want you to get rid of Arjan,” declares Callum.
“We want you to fire him,” confirms Mabel.
“But Arjan is from a different country,” Giuseppe argues. “He does not know about these things.”
Callum shakes his head, firmly. “It doesn’t make any difference. You’ve got other builders from Tunisia and Egypt and they’re not like that. So there’s no excuse. Homophobia is unacceptable, wherever you’re from.”
Atta boy!
“And he’s been working here for weeks now,” Mabel observes. “He’s had plenty of time to change his views.”
Atta girl!
Giuseppe rocks backwards on the balls of his feet. “Yes, I agree. But the job is nearly finished. We have only one week left.”
“Can’t you find someone to replace him?” Callum asks. “He isn’t doing the work you’re paying him for anyway.”
Giuseppe runs his hand over his beard. He’s starting to look exasperated. “I am sorry but I cannot take orders from children.”
“We may be children but we can still write online reviews,” says Callum, drawing himself up to his full height. “I’m sure all those customers you’re hoping to attract would be interested to hear you employ staff who are homophobic.”
I can’t help but wince slightly. While I admire the kids’ courage—and, of course, their principles—part of me worries that Giuseppe’s just going to get annoyed. What if he walks off the job and leaves it unfinished?
There’s a pause. Then—to my shock—Giuseppe breaks into laughter.
“Children, I like you. You are brave but you are also right. I know another worker who is not available for the first part of the job. I contact him now and see if he can do the last week. And I speak to Arjan: he is not here on Monday.”
Callum and Mabel look stunned, as if they can’t believe they’ve succeeded. In an instant, their composure shatters.
“Thank you!” bursts out Mabel.
Callum tugs at his fringe. “Thanks so much!”
“Oh, and sorry, but would you mind not saying anything to Dad or Adam?” Mabel quickly adds. “Could you maybe just tell them Arjan’s off sick?”
Giuseppe smiles out of the corner of his mouth. “OK, that is what I say. And well done. You are good kids.”
You took the words right out of my mouth.
As I step back from the ventilation slats, I resolve not to mention a word of this to Callum and Mabel. But I can’t wait to tell Theo.