Chapter 6 Cosimo
Cosimo
‘They’ve gone.’ Cosimo pulled back from the window and stared at his sister, ashen-faced against the sheets. Even by her standards, last night had been wild. ‘Romy, come on, you need to get up—’
‘I can’t,’ she blurted, pulling the covers over her head again.
Cosimo walked over and sat on the side of her bed with a weary sigh.
He had barely been able to get a coherent word out of her since finding her in a heap on the floor last night, alone in her room after Rafaella, followed by Gina, had fled the villa.
The shock of running into Rafaella like that – to find himself holding her, as if he were dreaming, before she had fled again – had stunned him.
He’d had no time to brace, to keep her there, and Romola had been in no fit state to explain what had happened.
She had thrown up twice and passed out shortly afterwards.
‘You have to tell me what you did. I can’t help if I don’t know.’
A muffled groan came from under the sheet and he pulled it back to find tears sliding down her cheeks. ‘She’ll never forgive me.’
‘You know she will,’ he said, seeing how her dark hair was soaked on the pillow. ‘It can’t have been that bad.’ In all their years as friends, Romola, Gina and Rafaella had never once exchanged a cross word. Jealousy didn’t exist between them.
Romola’s eyes met his. ‘It was the very worst thing.’
He stared at her, feeling his stomach drop as he understood her all-too-familiar look of shame. ‘You mean … with Fon?’ He felt immediately sick – and enraged.
Romola’s face crumpled at the mention of Fon’s name, fresh tears falling in confirmation. ‘I didn’t mean to!’ she cried.
His body tensed, ready to fight. ‘Are you saying he forced himsel—?’
‘No, no!’ She shook her head vehemently. ‘Not that. I just didn’t – I didn’t plan it, that’s all! I was upset, and he was there, and …’
‘Why were you upset?’
She blinked at him, her mouth opening a little as if she was remembering something else too. The moment stretched out.
‘Well?’ he demanded, impatient. ‘Tell me, Romy!’
‘I … I can’t.’
‘Why not? What could have happened that was so bad it could drive you into doing something like that? You know Fon’s with Rafa!’
‘I know! But I didn’t mean to do it! I never would have done it if I’d been in my right mind!’
‘Oh, please!’ Cosimo cried, getting up angrily. His foot caught on something beside the bed, making him stumble. Looking down, he saw an empty Campari bottle and bent to retrieve it. Romola paled again at the sight of it as he threw it on the bed angrily.
‘Was it Papa? Again? … I know it was! It’s always him. What did he do this time?’
Her eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and fear, but she didn’t reply.
‘Really? You’re not going to say? You do this terrible thing to your oldest, truest friend, and you won’t even say why?’ he demanded.
‘If I could, I would!’ she said.
‘What does that mean, Romy?’ he cried.
‘I’m trying to protect you!’ she sobbed.
‘Me?’ He gave a cold laugh. ‘You don’t need to protect me.’
He was forever clashing antlers with his father, the young buck to the stag, challenging for alpha-male status.
Nothing he ever did was good enough: he wasn’t as clever as Fede, nor was he ambitious or politically minded.
He didn’t care about money, or position, or any of the things his father believed he should care about.
But father and daughter – they had been devoted to one another when Romola was a little girl.
Filippo could do no wrong in her eyes and he revelled in her adoration.
It was only as she grew up and came to understand the reasons for his frequent absence from home, and their mother’s lingering sadness, that the scales had fallen from Romola’s eyes, and a distance had grown between them that was even chillier than his relationship with Cosimo.
Filippo was a vain man and couldn’t bear that his failings were not only seen but reflected back at him as Romola aped his numerous infidelities with a rampant promiscuity of her own.
Her reputation in Rome was beginning to precede her, and Cosimo was growing tired of acting as her keeper.
He sighed, rubbing his face in his hands.
He got up and stalked over to the window again and stared out.
What a damned mess! They’d only been here three days and everything was already fucked up.
She’d been spinning out all year, and he had hoped coming here would calm her down and bring her back to her old self.
‘Please don’t hate me, Cosi,’ she implored behind him.
He ignored her. From this vantage he could see above the treetops to the perfect strip of cerulean-blue sea beyond.
Sailing yachts peppered the horizon, the rich already at play on the water, and he wondered idly how Valentina was getting on with the water-skiing.
She hadn’t hesitated when Dante had walked right up to her last night, as if he was their equal, and begun talking to her about filming in Rome before inviting them out on his boat.
He was so cocksure and arrogant – worse than Cosimo remembered.
No doubt Dante believed he had a shot with her.
Had Cosimo been a fool to let her go out with him today?
For his sister’s sake he had pleaded a hangover by way of excuse this morning, and their father had been happy enough to go as host and chaperone instead – but would he see that the Giannellis didn’t play by the rules?
That, like Fon, Dante would forget himself and over-reach for whatever he wanted?
Not that Valentina was his, and not that he wanted her to be.
He had only asked her here in the hope it would serve as a full-bodied full stop to that unexpected moment with Rafaella last summer.
He should never have kissed her, he knew it, but he’d been unable to stop himself, even though she was his friend and there was no hope of anything more between them.
Rafaella wasn’t the only pragmatist when it came to marriage; Cosimo knew exactly what was expected of him, too …
And yet, it had haunted him all year, no matter how many other girls he kissed.
He had thought that, in case he troubled Rafaella’s dreams the way she stormed his, bringing Valentina here would draw a line under something they both needed to forget.
But he had clearly flattered himself in thinking she might still care a year later. Rafaella had breezed past it without a moment’s thought. She was with Fon now, and had been for five months … Cosimo caught his breath at the thought of Fon not just touching his sister, but touching her—
‘Get up,’ he said harshly, suddenly.
‘Wh-where are we going?’
He crossed the room to go and get dressed. ‘You know where.’
It was difficult to move through the port at any speed.
Everyone they passed wanted to press the flesh and give thanks for the family’s hospitality the night before.
Romola, pale and all but obscured beneath a sunhat and dark glasses, could only murmur as Cosimo, ever his mother’s son, hid his torrid emotions behind an implacable smile.
At Tito’s Bar, every table was taken; some of the anziani were playing chess and cards in their usual spots as ice melted in long glasses before them.
There were many bowed heads, most of whom weren’t usually found on dry land at this hour.
Cosimo glanced towards the marina; all the fishing boats were in.
Over the road, the sign on the drogheria door was showing ‘Open’, though the shutters remained down.
Cosimo popped his head in and Gina’s mother, sitting on her stool behind the counter, looked up. She started, immediately hastening to offer thanks like everyone else, but he quickly raised a hand. ‘Please, don’t let me disturb you, Signora Crespi – I was just looking for Gina?’
‘At the beach caffè, with Rafa. But—’
‘Grazie.’ He ducked out again, taking his sister by the elbow and leading her across the road and down the steps to the beach.
The water looked inviting, but this couldn’t be put off; he could feel Romy trembling beneath his fingertips, and it didn’t bode well for her that Gina and Rafaella were together.
If it was Rafaella she had betrayed, it would still be Gina with whom she’d have to do battle.
They walked along the promenade and stopped at the passageway through the cliff, surveying the scene before they made their presence known.
All the caffè tables were set out, customers sitting beneath the striped umbrellas.
Cosimo could see Gina working behind the counter, making up some drinks.
His eyes scanned for Rafaella, but there was no sign of her.
‘I can’t do this,’ Romola quailed, drawing back.
‘You can and you will. You have to, Ro,’ he said firmly, not relinquishing his grip. ‘It’s the only way to make things right.’
But even to his ear, the words were hollow. How could they ever be right again? Romola had broken an inviolable code.
‘No—’
‘Gina!’ he called out, catching the girl’s attention so that she looked over and saw them. Romola froze, but Cosimo dragged her over the sand. He saw the way Gina stiffened at the sight of them, yesterday’s jokes and teasing now a distant memory. There would be no friendly headlocks today.
‘You’ve got some nerve,’ Gina hissed at Romola as they stopped before the bar, her eyes darting towards the tables to make sure no customers were listening.
‘Please,’ Cosimo said in a low voice. ‘Just hear her out.’
Gina looked across at Romola with an expression of outright disgust, folding her arms in front of her chest. ‘Why should we?’
We. They came as a pair. Indivisible.
‘Is Rafa here?’ He looked around for her again.
‘She doesn’t want to see you.’
‘Is she here?’ he persisted.
‘No.’
But he caught the tiny sideways flicker of her eyes towards the back door, and he turned towards it. ‘Rafa, I know you’re back there.’
No reply.