The Tuscan Child Page 2

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN JOANNA June 1973 Paola had clearly been waiting for me. She looked relieved when she opened the front door. “Oh, Signorina Langley, mia cara. There you are. I was worried that something had happened to you. I said to Angelina that you surely would not want to be out alone in the dark. What would you be doing?” “I am so sorry, Signora,” I said. “I talked to the men who sit in the piazza, and they insisted that I join them for a glass of wine. Then they ordered bruschetta and it would have been rude to refuse. I told them I was eating dinner at your house, but they said you would not eat until very late.” Paola laughed. “It is no problem, my little one. I was merely concerned for your safety. Not that I think you run the risk of being unsafe in this village, but there are dark alleyways where you can trip and hurt yourself. Now come, sit. The dinner awaits us.” I followed her down the hall and was ushered into a dining room, this time with a table elegantly set with can

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN HUGO December 1944 Miraculously, the aspirin did seem to bring down Hugo’s fever a little. He felt like a limp rag, but remembering Sofia’s stern admonition, he forced himself to sip at the soup. Then he lay back, gasping, his forehead beaded with sweat. What will happen now? he worried. What if gangrene had set in and his leg had to be amputated? It was obvious he’d never make it past the Germans to the Allies, and Sofia had been right—if the Germans came upon him in this condition, they would see him as a hindrance and a liability and would dispatch him instantly. He realised there was little hope of surviving. He wondered if he should do the right thing and try to make his way down to that road below and await his fate rather than risk any more visits from Sofia. When he tried to get up, nausea and dizziness overwhelmed him. He realised he could not go anywhere in this state. That was when he took out his service revolver and examined it, turning it over in his hand

  CHAPTER NINETEEN JOANNA June 1973 Angelina was woken up and sent to fetch the Carabinieri. Two men in impressive military-style uniforms arrived, red-faced from running down the hill. It took them some time to extract the body, so firmly was it jammed into the well. When they laid it out on the gravel path, I gave a little gasp of horror. It was Gianni, the man who had offered to escort me home last night, only to be pushed aside in favour of the more reliable Alberto. The two Carabinieri agents recognised him instantly. “But surely this is Gianni,” one said. And they exchanged a look I couldn’t quite understand. A doctor was summoned and pronounced that Gianni had been struck on the back of the head with a blunt object. He had then been pushed into the well with his head under the water. The cause of death was drowning. I found I couldn’t stop shivering. It was too horrible to contemplate. Paola took one look at me and put an arm around my shoulder. “The poor young lady is in shock. A

  CHAPTER TWENTY JOANNA June 1973 I picked up the three objects from my bed, examining them in my hand and wondering what they could mean. The German banknote was easy enough to understand. German money. Someone had been paid German money. But the other two? I stared at the piece of stiffened cloth. It was dark brown. I lifted it up and sniffed for the smell of paint, then recoiled. It was not paint. It had a faintly metallic smell. Surely it was blood. Hastily I scooped up the three things and shoved them into the toe of one of my spare shoes, where they would be safely hidden. Then I folded the letter and put it back inside the envelope, which I carefully placed between the pages of my dictionary, just in case. I could tell nobody—that was clear. Not even Paola. She must not be put in danger. I realised now that Gianni had been trying to get me alone last night not for an amorous encounter but because he wanted to tell me something. He knew the truth about Sofia. He must have known abo

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE HUGO December 1944 Hugo’s leg was definitely on the mend. He still couldn’t put any weight on it, but at least it didn’t throb violently all the time and the fever had not returned. In the morning he made himself get up and practice walking with the stick. The sun had been streaming in through the broken masonry, but when he came outside he stopped and gasped in surprise. Below him the world lay in a sea of white fog. Only the very tip of the church bell tower rose above it, and in the distance were the crests of other hills. This seemed like a perfect moment to try and explore, knowing he couldn’t be seen from below. The ground was frosty, and he moved cautiously, hopping around the ruined buildings, looking for anything that might be useful. He found a cooking pot, another spoon, and, to his delight, a tin of something. He couldn’t tell what, because the label had been destroyed, but that encouraged him to keep looking. He tucked his finds inside his jacket and ven

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO JOANNA June 1973 It’s easy enough to explain that boot print, I thought. The two Carabinieri agents would obviously want to search the crime scene for clues. They may have dusted my window for fingerprints. But then if it wasn’t an official search, someone was watching the house and saw me leave. I glanced around and was relieved when I heard Paola’s voice calling for Angelina to bring a bowl. I hurried to join her, and soon she was showing me how to choose the zucchini blossoms and how to pick them, making sure that the stem was intact. After that she cut a few artichokes, dug up some radishes, and chose a couple of ripe tomatoes. Then she stopped by the herb garden and picked various leaves that I couldn’t identify, but their scent was pungent when she gave them to me to hold. Finally we walked back to the house. I found myself looking around to see if we were being watched. Paola chatted away as we walked, telling Angelina about our encounter with the Carabinieri

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE JOANNA June 1973 I tried not to let alarm show on my face. “But I made a statement,” I said. Actually, with my Italian being quite basic still, I said, “I told the man what I had seen.” The inspector spread his hands. “A mere formality,” he said. “You will come with me to the police station.” “I am watching this stall for Signora Rossini,” I said. “I cannot leave until she returns.” “This man can watch for you,” he said, waving dismissively at Renzo. “This man is an important customer. He was buying vegetables for the festival tomorrow,” I said, feeling my face turning bright red with embarrassment. “I could not ask him to spend more time.” I was stumbling over the Italian words now, flustered. “I do not know how to answer your questions,” I added. “I speak only a little Italian. I am a visitor from England.” “But you were speaking with this man. I saw you.” The inspector wagged an accusing finger. He certainly used his hands a lot in his speech. “That was because

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR JOANNA June 1973 We looked up as we heard Paola calling. “Your tomatoes, Signor Bartoli. Do you have a cart to transport them?” “I will send one of the men up later on,” Renzo said. “But I will pay you now. Keep them out of the sun, please.” He took out a wallet and handed over several notes. Paola beamed. “You are most generous.” I turned to Renzo. “Thank you for translating for me. I could not have got through that interview without you.” “Don’t worry,” he said. “I am sure the inspector realises that you are completely innocent of this crime. Sometimes these men enjoy wielding their power. Or maybe he is just lazy. He goes for the most obvious suspect. But I will speak with Cosimo and he will make sure that you are released. My father has great influence in these parts.” “Why do you think this man was killed?” I couldn’t resist asking. Renzo shrugged. “I can think of several reasons. He mixed with the wrong type of people. He poked his nose where it wasn’t wanted.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE HUGO December 1944 The weather turned freezing wet and miserable. Hugo huddled in his shelter for several days while rain and sleet splashed around him. Sofia came at night, her hair plastered to her forehead and her clothing sodden. “Don’t come when it’s raining like this. I can survive, I assure you, and you’ll catch pneumonia if you get so cold and wet,” he begged. “I am strong, Ugo. I am used to a hard life. Don’t worry about me,” she said. “But how will you explain your wet clothes? Your grandmother will be suspicious.” “Nonna can no longer climb the stairs. I dry my things in the linen closet.” She gave him a mischievous
smile. “Don’t worry.” But he couldn’t help worrying. One night the storm was so bad that Sofia didn’t come. Thunder crashed overhead. Lightning lit up the sky above. Hugo sat up, relatively dry under the part of the parachute he had kept, worrying about her. What if she had tried to come and was struck by lightning? What if a tree branch had f

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX JOANNA June 1973 The next day I was awoken by the loud and incessant tolling of bells from the church nearby, echoed by distant peals from other villages. It was the feast day—one of the most holy of the year, Paola had told me. Corpus Christi. The body and blood of the Lord Jesus Christ. The day on which children take their first Communion. I got up and prepared to go over to the farmhouse to bathe and to clean my teeth. I checked around the door and window, but there were no more footprints. It was possible that Gianni’s attackers hadn’t realised he had pushed an envelope through the bars into my room. It would be well known around the village by now that I had presented myself as an outsider who knew nothing. I would go home again as soon as I was given permission, and all would be well. At least this was what I hoped. I was still going to stay close to Paola all day at the festival. I bathed, dressed in my most presentable frock—which could have done with an iron

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN HUGO December 1944 Christmas was almost upon them. Sofia reported that Cosimo had shot a wild boar in the forest. “We have to keep it a secret,” she said, “because we are not allowed to own weapons, and if the Germans found the boar, they would take it from us. They love their meat. But our men will cut it up in the forest and deliver a portion to each family in San Salvatore so we can each have some meat for the holiday. And guess what I will do? I will make a wild boar ragu. The tin you gave me contained tomatoes! I am so excited. And I’ll make a chestnut cake. A real holiday feast.” After she had gone Hugo pictured her face, her joy. She finds happiness in such small things, he thought. He found himself comparing her to Brenda, who never seemed excited by anything these days. He knew she found life at Langley Hall boring. She found their county set boring. But it wasn’t as if they were in the middle of the Sahara. There was a fast train to London from Godalming,

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT JOANNA June 1973 As the procession disbanded in the piazza, we stood watching while people hurried off in all directions. I looked at Paola, wondering if we, too, would be going home. “They go to bring the feast,” she said. “We have been invited to join the Donatelli family this year. Maria Donatelli kindly invited us because it is a long way for me to walk down to my house and then back to the piazza with the food. We will wait for them at their table.” I followed her across the piazza to a table with a white cloth. “Famiglia Donatelli” was printed on a card. I now saw that every family had reserved a table. I looked around to see where Cosimo and Renzo would be sitting. Men were passing carrying trays of carved lamb. I watched them place the trays at tables in front of the town hall. There was no sign of Cosimo or Renzo yet. I realised that they must have been among those dressed in the robes and hoods. People were arriving at our table now, bringing huge mounds

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE JOANNA June 1973 We had reached the alleyway where Renzo’s old house stood. Renzo sensed me looking at it. “Do you think we should take a look at my house and see if there was possibly anywhere that someone could have been hidden?” “But won’t the occupants all be at the feast in the piazza?” He gave me a conspiratorial grin. “Exactly. What better time to look around?” “But we can’t go in without permission. And won’t the door be locked?” “I doubt it,” he said. “Nobody in San Salvatore locks their doors. Any stranger would have to enter the town along this street and would be noticed. And nobody here would rob a neighbour. It is against our code. Come on. Let us give it a try. If we are caught I will say that I am showing the young lady from England where I used to live. No harm in that, is there?” We hurried down the alleyway and Renzo tried the handle on the front door. It was made of carved wood and looked very old. The door swung open easily. “Hello? Is anyone he

  CHAPTER THIRTY HUGO December 1944 For a long moment they lay huddled in complete darkness until the movement around them ceased. “Are you all right?” he whispered to her. “I think so. Just very afraid. You saved us. What was happening? It felt as if the whole building was falling down to hell.” “The bomb must have disturbed the foundations.” Their voices seemed to echo in the darkness. “Is it safe now, do you think?” she whispered. “Have they gone?” “Yes, they have gone.” He stroked her hair and she snuggled against him. “How will I get home if I cannot find my lantern?” she said. “We’ll find it. Don’t worry.” He eased them upright, reached for his lighter, clicked it, and held out the small flame, looking around. The lantern had fallen on its side and rolled a few feet away from them. He retrieved it and relit the candle. “Why did they drop a bomb on us?” she asked as he set the candle upright and held his lighter flame against it. “How could they do such a thing?” “The pilot might ha

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE JOANNA June 1973 I studied the town on the hill as we walked. Yes, it did seem there was a way down the wall from close to Sofia’s house. An agile person could have climbed out of a window, made their way along the top of the wall, and then come down into the vineyards without too much chance of being observed. I remembered Renzo saying that his mother had left with her basket to forage in the woodland. My gaze went through the vineyards and then up through the olive groves to the woods that crowned the hilltop. Beyond them a rocky outcropping topped with an ancient ruin rose above the trees. I stopped to stare at it. It was little more than a pile of rubble, and it was hard to tell what had once been a building and what was part of the rocks themselves. I thought of Sofia and her basket. Would it have been possible to hide someone up there? “That old ruin,” I said. “Was it a castle once?” “A monastery,” Paola said. “I remember the monks there when I was a child. Suc

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO JOANNA June 1973 The dog rose barking as I approached Francesca’s house. He looked so menacing that I was reluctant to come any closer. I wasn’t sure how long that chain was. I hoped she would hear the noise and come to see what was happening. Finally, a curtain was drawn back and a face peeked out, and then the front door was opened. “It is the English signorina,” she said. “You have come for Paola’s basket, no doubt. She will need it. And her bowl, too. The ragu was excellent. Please thank her for her kindness.” Her accent was so strong that I had trouble understanding her. “Come in, please.” She motioned me toward the door. The dog didn’t take his eyes off me for a second as I entered the house. “Will you take some coffee with me?” she asked. I wasn’t a big fan of the thick black espresso that was drunk here. It seemed that milk was only mixed with the coffee at breakfast. Any time after that it was a sign of weakness to water down the coffee. “Thank you.” At leas

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE HUGO December 1944 Hugo spent the night in the crypt. He wasn’t at all happy about being in the presence of dead monks, a crucifix, and sundry saints, but it was good to be out of the wind. He made his bed on the other side of the carved screen knowing that he could see the Child Jesus through the holes in the carved stone. He lay down and had the best sleep he’d had since leaving his base near Rome. He was glad of his protected spot when the next violent storm blew in sometime in the middle of the night. The wind howled down the staircase, and he heard the crash and thump as more pieces of masonry were dislodged from the walls above. Sofia did not come that night. He fed himself with the turnip (it was surprisingly good) and the remains of the Christmas feast. With daylight he made his way up the stairs and examined the lie of the land. The intense rain had washed away more of the hillside, and the steps now clung to what was an impressive drop. He needed to warn

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR HUGO December 1944 After she had gone he remained rooted in place, trying to think clearly. He was a British officer, combat trained. He should be able to come up with a good plan. He had six bullets in the chambers of his revolver. At least he could kill the first six Germans if he
took them by surprise. But then they would take reprisals against the village. Sofia had to find the man with the cart and make him lend it to her. The ring was a good one. Heavy twenty-two carat gold. Worth a lot. A simple farmer would be tempted, surely. Then his eyes strayed to the painting of the Child Jesus. He had to protect that, too. No German was going to loot it! He lifted it down from the wall with difficulty, surprised at how heavy it was. He wondered if the frame was actually made of gold and not gold leaf. Held close in front of him, the child seemed almost to be exchanging a secret joke with him. He had an overwhelming desire to take the canvas from its frame, roll it up,

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE JOANNA June 1973 “Oh, there you are,” Paola said, looking up from the beans she had been retying. “I was beginning to get worried about you. I thought you had gone up to the town, but then Renzo came seeking you and said that you were not up there.” “Renzo came?” I blurted out the words. “Yes. Looking for you.” She misinterpreted my alarm. “I think you might have made a conquest there, mia cara.” She gave me a knowing little smile. “Did he say what he wanted?” “He didn’t. Maybe just to enjoy your company, to get to know you better.” “Oh no. It’s not like that,” I said. “He must have wanted to arrange a time to meet me and take me to the station tomorrow.” “Tomorrow? So you will really leave so soon?” “I think it would be wise,” I said. “If I stay longer then I fear that the inspector may still try to say that I killed Gianni. He may also try to say that you helped me. It is better for everyone that I go when I can. And Cosimo told me that his son has to drive into F