Chapter 8
CHAPTER 8
CASALTA, 14 APRIL 1985
LUCREZIA
Later that night, Matilde gave me one last hug before going home. ‘I made dinner for you, though I had no warning, it was the best I could do! It’s in the oven,’ she’d said, and left us four sisters alone.
Nora was coaxing the fire, welcome warmth on the chilly spring night. Mia was sitting close to me, her legs bent underneath her, and Bianca was pouring us some nocino, a liqueur made with walnuts. The bottle carried our label: Falconeri Estate. She gave us each a tiny glass, then sat back.
‘You never wrote to us,’ Nora said. She may have wanted to sound nonchalant, but the dark green aura gave her away.
‘She did, but the letters never arrived!’ Bianca exclaimed. ‘I should have known. We should have known.’
A sudden thought hit me. If they didn’t get the letters… Then Vanni never received my note. He didn’t choose not to write…
‘That’s what Lucrezia says,’ Nora rebutted.
‘Why would I lie?’ I said coldly.
Nora shrugged. ‘Bianca has been in charge all this time. She would have seen the letters.’
‘Do you think Matilde…?’ I began.
Bianca shook her head at once. ‘No, I’m sure. But who else? Father never concerned himself with the post. It was either Matilde or me sorting it out for him.’
‘Dad wouldn’t have done that,’ Nora said. She didn’t seem to know what our father was capable of. I had never told her. Maybe Bianca did, but Nora didn’t believe her… she seemed to need the illusion of a wise, loving father.
She was the only one who called him Dad. For Bianca, Mia and me, he was Father.
‘Why did you stop writing to me, Bianca? And why were you two never in touch?’ I looked from Mia to Nora.
Mia seemed stricken – guilt squeezed my heart, but I had to know.
‘I told them not to,’ Bianca murmured. ‘I wanted to protect you, Lulu. We wanted to protect you. I was afraid for you.’ She nodded and looked down. I needed more than that, and Bianca must have guessed it, because she said in a low voice: ‘I promise I’ll explain. Later.’
Nora intercepted her whisper. ‘You all kept secrets from Dad! You never understood him,’ she cried out and got up. Her aura was flashing red, but there was a deep blue in its heart. The deep blue of sadness. ‘He wanted to help you. After Mum died, you were all over the place. He sent you to a nice school in Switzerland where you were happy, and they looked after you. But instead of being thankful, you cut all contact!’
My mouth fell open.
‘Nora, that’s not what happened!’ I managed to cry.
‘Spare me your lies,’ she said and strode out, leaving me with my mouth agape. We all jumped when we heard the door banging.
‘Give her time,’ Bianca pleaded. ‘Please. It’s been hard for her, since Father died.’
It’s been hard for her ? I wanted to shout. But I bit my lip.
‘She doesn’t know anything.’ I looked down. ‘And you don’t either.’
I downed my nocino in a few sips, and a pleasant warmth, an artificial calm, filled me. The question that had been brewing inside me finally came to the surface.
‘How…how did he die?’
‘His heart gave way in the middle of the night,’ Bianca explained. ‘Gabriella left the room for a little while, and when she came back, he was gone. His pillbox was open and there were pills everywhere.’ She paused. ‘The doctor said that had he managed to reach them, he would have survived. Gabriella blamed herself, of course… if only she’d come back a few minutes before, if only she hadn’t left the room… It was a blow for her.’
‘And a relief for us,’ Mia added.
You can say that again . ‘Why is the house so empty, anyway? I thought it would be full of sycophants coming to pay their respects.’
‘We thought it’d be best to have time to… you know. Digest the whole thing. The funeral will be private. Gabriella and I agreed.’
‘When is it?’
‘Tomorrow. You arrived just in time.’
I was looking forward to it. I know, who looks forward to a funeral? But I was. It would open old wounds, but also lay a whole world to rest, the old world where my father had dominion over all of us. He’d be lowered into the ground, and all that hurt me, all that separated my sisters and me, would be in the past.
With a marble slate on top.
‘Father wouldn’t have liked this. He would have wanted hundreds of people, a grand affair,’ I remarked.
‘Gabriella said it’s best to think of the living, not the dead. And none of us wanted to go through a grand affair , like you said. Also…’
‘Also?’ I encouraged her after a pause.
‘It’s difficult to explain, but it feels like the sentiment towards our family has changed. Remember when we were little, it was like everyone was our friend? Everyone wanted to be near us. But now… it’s different. Maybe it’s because Father had to scale down the business, and so he had to let a few people go. But they were then hired by the Orafi family, Matilde told me…’
I took a deep breath. It was so hard, so hard to feel the emotions I’d pushed down for years, pressing against my inner walls and threatening to bring all my defences down, anger and tears mixing and releasing me at once.
‘I tried to ask him,’ she continued. ‘But having his daughter being involved in his work? Would have been a sacrilege.’
I nodded. ‘Father lived in the eighties like us, but truly he was in the eighteen -eighties.’ I made a little joke, and it ended in a sigh.
Bianca squeezed my hand. Her aura was becoming more and more luminous, the more time she spent with me. Her light, gentle blue was now tinged with silver all around. She stroked my face. ‘You haven’t slept, have you?’
‘Just three hours on the train.’
‘Food and sleep for you. And then I’ll tell you everything,’ Bianca said. ‘Like I should have done years ago.’
Matilde had gone all out with dinner: cannelloni with a ragù sauce that tasted of heaven followed by a fragrant polenta and orange cake. Claude and his posse of celebrity chefs weren’t a patch on her home cooking. Once again, it seemed to me like time had reversed and we were back to being children, eating in the kitchen on a night that Father wasn’t there, and we were spared the formality of the cold, grand dining room.
‘Well. Buon appetito! ’ Mia called cheerfully.
I wanted to pretend I didn’t care, but it stung that Nora wasn’t there. ‘So… Nora won’t be joining us?’
‘Please, don’t take it personally. Besides, tonight she volunteers at an animal shelter,’ Mia said.
‘What is Gabriella like? Father’s new wife?’
‘She’s sweet,’ Bianca said. ‘She’s with her son now – she has a grown family.’
‘A grown family? So, is she Father’s age? I thought she’d be younger. You know, young and blinded by the Falconeri wealth,’ I said, trying, and failing, to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.
Mia shook her head and swallowed a bite of cannelloni. ‘ M-mm . She’s older and kind and I like her a lot. I think she was disappointed, you know? She loved Father and then she found out what he was really like.’
I could feel Bianca cringing. ‘Mia tells it like it is.’
‘That’s a good thing, no?’ I said. ‘She’s transparent.’ I smiled in Mia’s direction.
‘Not the best thing when you’re in company.’ Bianca laughed.
‘I’m never in company,’ Mia said cheerfully. ‘I prefer being on my own and painting, or with my sisters. But really, I wish Father had died long ago…’
‘ Maria Falconeri! ’ Bianca exclaimed, but Mia was undeterred.
‘So you’d come back, Lulu,’ she continued. ‘I used to set the table for you, you know? When I was little. I used to put a plate and a glass and cutlery for you, but…’
‘Then I took everything away quickly, so that Father wouldn’t see it,’ Bianca reminisced.
‘So we came to a compromise and we set a place for you in the kitchen, where Father never went,’ Mia said. ‘Every night, you had your little place here, at this table.’
I was speechless. They’d set the table for me every night, for all these years.
‘And for Mum?’ I asked, a lump in my throat.
‘No,’ Mia said. ‘Because I was sure that you’d come back. I’m not sure she will.’
‘You’re not… sure?’
I looked at Bianca, who shrugged imperceptibly. ‘Well, let’s get this cleaned up and I can prepare your room, va bene, cara ?’ she said quickly.
‘Do you mind if I make a call? My boyfriend, in Paris…’
‘Of course. And then we need to know everything about this boyfriend ,’ Bianca quipped while gathering our plates.
‘It’s more of a…’ A work partnership , really. But I didn’t say it aloud. It sounded sad and unsatisfying. ‘Well, I won’t be long anyway.’
I wanted to ask Bianca if she had someone, but I was afraid of the answer, somehow. Because I hadn’t forgotten what she mentioned in her letters: her meetings with Vanni at the hazelnut tree, while I was away. Childish, maybe, but childhood wounds cut deep.
‘Take your time. I have a phone in my room.’
‘Thank you.’
I made my way upstairs for the first time since I’d returned, and stood for a moment at the top of the stairs. The master bedroom and bathroom were at the end of a corridor on the right; ahead were our bedrooms and bathrooms, lined along a corridor; beyond there, the oldest part of the house with Mia’s turret studio.
I made my way inside Bianca’s room and inhaled my twin’s scent, the same that exuded from her clothes: lavender and rose. The window was a square of black dotted with stars over the profile of our hills. I switched the light on and the frescoes on the walls came to life: wildflowers and aromatic plants, bees and butterflies, and over the window and along the ceiling, pink roses trailed and bloomed. It was bright and yet soft, like stepping into a meadow just before twilight turns the sky lilac, in the last rays of sunshine.
The phone sat on Bianca’s bedside table – I lifted the receiver and prepared to turn the dials…
But I didn’t.
I didn’t want to hear Claude’s voice. I didn’t want to break the spell of being here, and be told how much work had been accumulating while I was away, how much my absence was inconvenient for him. Maybe I was being unfair: but I was almost sure that was how our conversation would end up going.
Claude would have to wait, and anyway, I was sure he wouldn’t be worried. Most likely, he was taking advantage of this time to work even harder…
This is not the way I should feel towards my boyfriend.
Being with Claude was perfect for the frozen, frightened Lucrezia who’d anaesthetised herself against emotions – our relationship was safely formal, scheduled just like the work we did together. If we were to break up, there would be no devastation, no heart-wrenching sense of abandonment. Perfect, for the child who’d been abandoned once and never wanted to feel like that, ever again.
You can’t feel a frozen limb – the pain begins when it thaws. And now that I was thawing, ever so slowly, I was beginning to wonder if, beyond the pain and fear, there would be more.
More than a life that revolved around making sure I would never get hurt again, a life besieged.
And Claude, did he not deserve a woman who missed him terribly when they were apart?
I leaned on the windowsill, and the night, so deep and peaceful, relaxed my thoughts and made me sleepy. What a day.
I must have lost track of time, because Mia’s small figure appeared in the doorframe, holding the portrait she’d made for me under one arm and my suitcase in the other. She’d come to me silently, in her cat-like way.
‘Lulu?’
‘Yes, come in.’
‘I wanted to help you make your bed and be sure you had everything you needed. I’ll wait in your room, if you haven’t finished.’
‘I haven’t even started. I didn’t phone after all.’ I shrugged, and took my suitcase from her. ‘Thank you for carrying this.’
Mia tilted her head. I guessed she was wondering why I’d decided not to call my boyfriend, but she didn’t ask any questions – and for that, I was grateful. ‘Are you ready to see your old room?’ she said instead.
‘As ready as I can ever be.’
I preceded her, and she stood silent as I lowered the door handle…
And here it was, the room of the red roses, the place I left one morning twelve years ago without knowing I would not return until now. I switched the light on, and the trails of roses seemed to quiver and ripple around and above me.
Nothing had changed.
My old desk was untouched, with its pencil holder; the ripped page from a notebook with a list of stationery I wanted to buy; a mint lip gloss that, I remembered clearly, came free with a magazine; a small folder with matching paper and envelopes; a flower press for a school project, still with flowers inside; my schoolbag on the desk chair, with the doodles I’d drawn on it in biro. The clothes I’d left on the back of the dresser, neatly folded – I certainly didn’t leave them that way – someone must have folded them.
Everything was spotless.
‘Look! It’s perfect, here!’ Mia said, and sat the painting on top of the desk.
The canvas was still shining with its radiant, rainbow aura. I didn’t usually see auras emanating from objects, but this painting seemed to be the exception, because the rainbow-like iridescence wasn’t fading. The more I looked at the woman in the painting, with those bright eyes, and that vibrancy, the more I thought she was the person I could have been, had it not been for the chain of events that destroyed our family. Almost as if she was the road not taken.
‘I can see it shining,’ I whispered, and dried a rogue tear which I hoped Mia wouldn’t see – but I was sure she did. ‘What I mean is, I can see its aura. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen, all colourful and bright. That’s my gift. Did you know?’
‘No… There’s so much I don’t know about you, Lulu. And don’t cry. You’re home now, and we love you so.’ She dried my tears with her finger, and I blinked. Suddenly I didn’t feel like crying any more. Mia’s eyes were enormous, almost swallowing her face, and the difference in colour was startling. Her high forehead and long dark hair reminded me of a Renaissance girl, someone belonging to another time.
‘There’s so much I don’t know about you, too.’
‘Well, my gift is some kind of clairvoyance, I think that’s what they call it. The best way to describe it is that I know things I’m not supposed to know. Also, sometimes I see Mum’s paintings or my paintings change. But it’s not always clear to me what they’re trying to tell me.’
‘Sounds fascinating. And a little confusing at the same time.’
‘It can be, yes. It’s why I don’t usually leave the house. When I’m outside, so much information comes to me. About what people are thinking and feeling, what they went through or what’s ahead of them. It gets overwhelming. But I’m happy, here at Casalta. I don’t really want to be anywhere else.’
‘You look like you belong here, in fact. Like you grew in the garden.’
‘That’s a perfect way to put it!’
‘What about Nora? Bianca mentioned some kind of horse-whispering?’
‘She has a connection with living things. Animals and plants. I think that one day she’s going to sprout deer antlers, or develop leaves for hair.’
‘Like the dryads,’ I said with a smile, thinking of the statues at our gate.
‘I never thought of that! Yes. She insists that she doesn’t have any gifts. You see, she wants to be a Falconeri only, and to have nothing of the McCrimmon. She pretends she didn’t inherit anything from Mum. She’s the one who looks the least like her. So… I don’t know. She’s very independent; she doesn’t spend much time with us. She doesn’t let Bianca look after her and Bianca gets so annoyed. You know, Bianca…’
I looked away. Now that Mia was in front of me, with those truthful eyes that seemed to look through me, I was almost ashamed of the contrasting feelings I had towards my twin sister. It’d been almost easy, blaming her for not fighting for me harder, for saying I shouldn’t write any more, for meeting Vanni when I couldn’t see him. But now that I’d seen her again, in front of this girl whom Bianca had brought up like a mother, my resentment seemed petty.
And still. It was so hard to get over the awful feeling of betrayal when I read that sentence in her letter: I met Vanni at the hazelnut tree… Right at that moment when I felt so alone, so abandoned.
‘What about her?’
Mia smiled a little smile, with a touch of mischief. ‘She thinks she’s the one looking after everyone, especially me. I let her believe it…’ I had to laugh. Mia spoke those words in a half-serious, half-playful way – the tenderness she felt for Bianca was unequivocal. ‘But she needs to be looked after too. Can you see what I’m trying to say?’
‘Yes. I’ll try. Now that I’m back, I’ll try.’
‘Thank you. Sweet dreams, sorella mia ,’ she said, and hugged me goodnight. I hadn’t been called sister for so many years, and I felt my heart constrict at the thought.
When I heard the door close behind her, I thought I could have fallen asleep there and then, on my feet. I took my clothes off and threw myself on the bed, in my silken slip.
It’d been one of the longest days of my life. Early that morning I was still in Paris, and now… I was in my childhood bed. I’d forgotten how deep the darkness was here, how complete, without the city lights.
I curled up on my side.
Sleep claimed me fast, and I had a dream within a dream: that I was still in Paris, and dreaming of Casalta.
And then – I don’t know how much time had passed, because it felt like an instant – I was awakened by someone shaking me softly and whispering in my ear.