Chapter 28
CHAPTER 28
CASALTA, 30 APRIL 1985
LUCREZIA
I sat on Bianca’s bed and dialled Claude’s number. It rang out, and my heart sank – I was determined to tell him I wasn’t going back except to help him and Sophie tie up loose ends so that his work wouldn’t be affected by my sudden departure. His work was the most important thing in his life, and it would have been cruel to do any damage to that. I didn’t want the situation to drag on, but Claude was often out for work, or socialising. Work, parties, events: that was our life. Maybe I’d call the office and ask Sophie to arrange a call from him, whenever he was free.
I’d make one last try. I dialled again, not holding much hope – if only someone would invent something like Bruno’s walkie-talkie, but which could reach people further away… something we could keep in our pockets to be in touch with people at all times.
Oh. Being in touch with people at all times wasn’t the best idea, probably…
I jumped when I heard Claude’s familiar greeting, efficient and to the point, like him:
‘Claude.’
I slipped easily back into my French. ‘It’s me… hello.’
‘ Lucresiah … I was almost out of the door. Can I call you back? Or even better, you’re calling to tell me you’re coming back and we’ll speak face to face?’
He was so straight to the point, I didn’t see the reason for convoluted, emotional explanations. ‘Claude… I’m not coming back.’
There was a pause. ‘You mean you’ll be there a little longer?’ I was sure that he understood what I meant, but I played along.
‘I’m not coming back at all . I’m staying here, with my family. But I’ll help tide Sophie over, of course…’
‘But… but it’s madness! You leave a lucrative job in the best city in the world!’
‘Claude.’
‘Yes?’
‘You didn’t mention us .’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You didn’t mention me and you. You said I had a lucrative job in a beautiful city. You didn’t say “come back to me”,’ I explained without resentment. ‘It was all about that, our relationship, wasn’t it? The work, the city, success and fame. Our relationship had no other reason to be.’
‘It’s the way I am, Lucresiah . You always knew… and also… You didn’t let it happen. You never let me in. You didn’t let anyone in.’
I took a deep breath. He was right. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Can we talk about it? Is there anything I can say…?’
‘I’m so sorry,’ I repeated.
Silence.
‘Claude, you’ll be fine. You’ll find another assistant, and another girlfriend, maybe one person to cover both roles, like I did. You’re a great chef and a committed public figure…’
‘Sounds like a communiqué for a magazine.’
‘It used to be my job, after all.’ I smiled.
‘And you were good at it. Well, what will you do now?’
‘Help run the family estate. There’s a lot to do, here,’ I answered, and butterflies began dancing in my stomach. The possibilities! I hadn’t felt such hope and such joy in so long, I’d forgotten what it was like.
‘You will be a great success. Whatever you do.’
‘Sounds like a reference letter,’ I joked, like he’d done.
‘I was your boss, after all.’ I could hear the smile in his voice, and it was a relief, but also a vague achy feeling, that after years together neither of us was that distraught about breaking up.
‘And you were a good boss. Goodbye, Claude.’
‘Goodbye, Lucresiah .’
Just as I was putting down the phone, Matilde called me downstairs.
‘There’s a car for you,’ she said.
‘A car? I didn’t order a taxi…’ I peeped from the living room window – Maurizio, the Orafi driver, touched his hat lightly. I went out to speak to him.
It was a windy day, and I had to keep my hair away from my face as I leaned down. Suddenly, I worried that something might have happened to Signor Orafi.
‘ Buongiorno , Maurizio. Is everything okay?’
‘Everything good, signorina. Signor Vanni asked me to come get you, if you’d like to come with me.’
‘Vanni didn’t say anything to me about it…’
‘He mentioned that you might decide not to come. Will I go back and tell him?’
‘No, of course not. Just give me a moment.’
I ran inside and grabbed my handbag – thankfully I was presentable, wearing the red linen dress and my usual high heels, which had been pretty uncomfortable with all the walking I’d had to do in the last few days, but which I couldn’t quite give up.
‘Have fun,’ Mia and Mum called from the top of the stairs, their hands equally bright with paint.
I didn’t know what to answer – I wasn’t sure what all this was about. The last time we’d spoken, Vanni had been adamant he didn’t want anything to do with me.
I just wanted him to be happy, without or without me.
Maurizio opened the door and I slipped inside, my heart beating hard.
‘Are we going to the Orafi house?’ I asked.
‘No, signorina. He asked me to take you somewhere else. Are you comfortable for me to do that?’
‘Of course,’ I said, and tried to relax for the rest of the journey. We drove towards the outskirts of Florence, until we arrived at a squat, red-roofed building with a ramp in the front. A blue-lettered sign said, ‘ Centro Medico ’. A clinic?
Maurizio parked the car and opened my door. ‘Thank you. Here?’ I asked.
‘Yes. Signor Vanni is waiting inside,’ he said, and I followed him to the reception. A blonde woman in a white and blue uniform shirt welcomed us.
‘Signorina Falconeri, for Vanni Orafi.’
‘Oh, yes. He let us know. Please, come in,’ she said. I thanked Maurizio and followed the rubber-shoed lady down a corridor that smelled of disinfectant. The environment was clean, bordering on sterile, but colourful children’s pictures decorated the walls and plants in vases brightened the space.
‘Is this… a clinic?’
‘It’s a rehabilitation clinic for people with spine and brain injuries,’ she said. ‘Did Vanni not tell you?’
Why had he asked me to come here?
‘Rehabilitation? But his accident happened years ago…’
‘He still needs physio. It’s nice he wanted to share this aspect of his life with you. You’re such a good-looking couple!’ she gushed.
‘We’re not…’
Vanni had come out of a side door, and a woman in a maroon tracksuit was behind him. Vanni too was wearing a tracksuit, grey with a black stripe on the side, and he looked very different from the last time I’d seen him. He’d kept the beard, but he’d had his hair cut; but the biggest difference was in his eyes. They were still dark, still full of a certain sadness, but resolute.
‘Lucrezia. Thank you for agreeing to come here.’
‘Of course.’
‘I wanted to show you what my life is like. What the life of a paraplegic is like,’ he said. His gaze was serious, almost solemn.
I nodded.
‘This is Carla, my physiotherapist. She’s been helping me since I ended up in this.’
‘And it’s been a pleasure,’ Carla said as she shook my hand. Her cheerful smile contrasted with Vanni’s gravity. She was so tiny, I wondered how she managed patients as tall as Vanni. ‘Well, shall we begin with arms and shoulders? Ease our way in?’
‘Sure,’ Vanni said, and, using his arms, he made the transition to a wide metal chair, painted bright yellow.
After ten minutes, I was in awe of both my friend, and Carla. The exercises were gruelling. Vanni’s skin was covered in sweat that he dried with a bandana he kept tied to his wrist. Carla was simultaneously sweet, almost tender, and unrelenting – her job, it seemed to me, went beyond the physical to also include motivating him and keeping him strong.
Carla helped him onto a mat on the ground, and now the hard bit began.
‘This is to avoid the muscles becoming rigid and seizing up,’ she explained. She began to move and stretch his legs, in a way that made it look as if she was doing all the work – but Vanni was holding onto the ground on both sides, grimacing in pain.
‘Too much?’ Carla asked.
‘I’m fine,’ he murmured. He wasn’t fine. I don’t know how it could be that he was in pain, if he couldn’t feel his legs – but somehow the muscles that Carla’s exercises were stimulating could still hurt, and they did. I felt my nails sinking into my palms as I saw Vanni squeeze his eyes closed…
‘You did well! So well!’ Carla said. She looked across the room and met my eyes.
A gentle breeze blew on us as we sat on the terracotta terrace of a trattoria, waiting for our meal. The sun shone higher and warmer than it had since I’d arrived: spring was coming into its own.
‘You look different,’ I told Vanni. ‘I can’t put my finger on it, but something about you is… different.’
‘I could say the same thing. You look lighter. Maybe it’s the whole Casalta thing being resolved…’
‘And being out of a relationship that wasn’t working.’
‘Your French boyfriend…’
‘Claude. We’re not together any more.’
‘I suppose I should bring myself to say that I’m sorry…’
I laughed. ‘Don’t worry. I’m not sorry, and neither is he. I’m glad to say I didn’t break his heart in the slightest.’
Vanni refilled my glass. ‘Your mum has been incredible! Even Lorenzo had to admit it.’
‘I know. Who would have thought? She’s been through so much, Vanni. One day I’ll tell you what my father did to her.’
Vanni shook his head. ‘I want us to put this all behind us. All the evil things that your father did. He’s dead and gone…’ Thanks to Gabriella , I thought but obviously didn’t say. ‘…and we’re learning to overcome the consequences. Yes, I am different. After what you told me when you came to visit me. I was feeling sorry for myself. Self-pity is the worst poison, isn’t it? Worse than anger.’
‘I should know. I felt sorry for myself for years.’
He took my hand, and his touch made me smile again. I laid my other hand on his and drank in the feeling. I wanted to kiss those hands, to kiss him, to be with him and never part again.
‘Maybe we can come out of it together?’
‘Absolutely, completely yes. Yes.’
It was really us. The boy and girl sitting side by side in the treehouse, the man and woman separated and almost broken. Now we were together, and whole.
‘But I need you to see what my life is really like. To see what it’s like being with someone who has so many limitations. So many challenges. What you saw today is just the beginning. There are medical appointments, and it takes hours to do anything, and there are so many places where I can’t go, and?—’
‘Wait. I thought we were going to come out of self-pity together?’ I smiled.
‘This is not self-pity. This is my reality. I couldn’t face you telling me what Cristina told me, and…’
‘Hey. Hey. Don’t be afraid. I lost you for twelve years; I have no intention of losing you again.’
‘But does it not scare you, Lucrezia?’
‘Being with you doesn’t scare me. You know what does?’
‘What?’
‘Being without you.’
‘Matteo?’
‘Signorina Lucrezia. Hello. Are you looking for your sister?’
‘No, I was looking for you. But please, call me Lucrezia.’
‘Lucrezia, then. What can I help you with?’
‘A favour. I’m sorry to ask, and please feel free to say no… It’d be a few hours’ work, and it’s not really in your job description…’
‘I’m sure Nora can spare me for a bit. These guys here are all clean and fed and have enjoyed plenty of fresh air and exercise. Haven’t we?’ The chestnut horse Matteo was beside rubbed its muzzle against his face.
‘In that case, thank you! Can I show you…’
‘Sure.’
He followed me to the small, sparse pine wood at the back of the house. It was kept simply, grass on the ground covered in pine needles and ferns along the slope of the hill. Among the pines, there was one with a low branch that extended out as if wanting to give passers-by a hug. A bit further on, the little door to Mia’s studio opened in the stone wall.
I considered for a moment if I should give Matteo the bare bones of the project, but then I decided to tell him what I had in mind. I felt that if I did, he would embrace the spirit of what I was trying to do.
‘You know Vanni Orafi, don’t you?’
‘Everyone knows the Orafi around here. I used to play with Vanni when we were children.’
‘So did I, in a treehouse. You see, he built that treehouse; he loved it. But he had an accident…’
‘I heard. Bad luck. I’m so sorry.’ It wasn’t really bad luck, but never mind.
‘Now he can’t climb trees any more. So, I thought…’ I gestured to the pine and its low-hanging branch, and Matteo didn’t let me finish the sentence.
‘To make a ground-level treehouse,’ he said matter-of-factly, as if it was the most obvious idea in the world.
‘Exactly!’
I considered this man’s warm, kind eyes and his steady manner – he exuded calm, and he had a solid, rugged handsomeness. I wondered if he and Nora were just co-workers, or friends – or more than friends. They would make a lovely couple.
‘Do you have a project in mind?’
‘I do! This is my project,’ I said and took out a piece of paper from the folds of my skirt. ‘Please ignore the fact that I absolutely can’t draw.’ I laughed.
‘No, it’s good. Well, leave it with me…’
‘Leave what with me?’ Nora appeared behind me and made me jump.
‘Are all my sisters silent as cats?’ I said, thinking of Mia, who could pretty much make herself invisible.
‘I’m used to moving quietly so I don’t startle the horses.’
‘Lucrezia asked me to help her with a project,’ Matteo said.
Nora shrugged. ‘Sure, no problem. Can I see?’
After all that had been said between Nora and me I was a little wary, but I showed her my piece of paper. ‘It’s for Vanni,’ I specified. I expected her to balk, but she didn’t.
‘Mmmm.’
She turned the paper round and round in her hand. I was sure she was about to say something about the Orafi being our father’s sworn enemies, and then storm off…
‘Well, all these bits with picnic baskets and blankets and cute things are Bianca’s domain, but I can help with the structure. Matteo and I can have it done in a few hours.’
I stared at her.
‘What?’ she snapped.
‘Nothing. Nothing. Well, thank you.’
Nora shrugged. I had the feeling she wanted to say something else, but she didn’t. She walked away. Matteo lingered for a moment more.
‘You might have just tamed her,’ Matteo whispered in my ear.