‘She’s not carrying?’ asked Rob.
‘Nah,’ said Fats. ‘Not a thing.’
Bianca sprang to her feet. ‘I don’t want to hurt him, for God’s sake! I just need to see him.’
It had been tormenting her, what she’d done to him, preying on her mind like an endlessly revolving nightmare. She’d shot Tony – Kit - in a fit of craziness and she hated herself for it. Now she knew he had survived, all she wanted was to see him, to be sure he was OK.
Daisy stepped forward and for a split second Rob thought she would flatten Bianca.
‘You’re not going anywhere near Kit,’ she hissed in Bianca’s face. ‘You’ve done enough damage already.’
‘I have to see him,’ said Bianca through gritted teeth.
Daisy lunged forward. Rob grabbed her, held her back.
‘Shut up, Daise,’ he told her. ‘Calm down.’
Daisy took a gulping breath, glaring at Bianca. After a moment, the tension went out of her and Rob let her go. She walked off a couple of paces and then came back, clutching her arms around her middle as if that was the only way she could prevent herself from grabbing hold of Bianca and choking the life out of her.
‘We can use this,’ said Daisy.
‘What?’ said Rob.
‘This. She’s walked straight into our hands. Vittore’s trying to get to Kit, right? If we’ve got his sister, and you tell him so, he’ll stop trying.’
Rob and Fats stared at each other.
‘Could work,’ said Fats.
Bianca was looking at the three of them, her eyes frantic. ‘I don’t want to hurt him, I swear.’
Daisy turned on her. ‘You already have.’
‘Look-’
‘Shut up,’ said Rob, and he grabbed Bianca’s arm and led her away.
86
Fabio was feeling increasingly nervous. No, terrified. He sensed that something had happened, but he had no idea what. He didn’t dare ask Vittore about it, so he asked Mama instead.
‘I haven’t seen Maria about the place recently,’ he said, all casual. ‘Is she OK?’
Bella gave a derisory humph. ‘She’s gone off to stay with her parents for a while, Vittore tells me. You’d think the woman’s place would be at her husband’s side, but oh no. Not her. She has to have a break, apparently.’
But discreet enquiries soon revealed that Maria was not at her parents’ home. So where was she?
There had been a lot of activity in Maria’s and Vittore’s set of rooms the last few days. Passing through the hall, Fabio had seen that sneaky, ugly scar-faced fucker Jay going in and out, along with some of Vito’s other boys. Soon, Vittore’s wine collection, of which he had always been so proud, was stacked out in the hallway.
‘Just a bit of decorating,’ said Vittore, when Fabio stood there one day, eyeing the bottles.
He didn’t question it. He was only grateful that Vittore hadn’t tried to slit his throat yet. If Maria was gone, it was none of his business.
Then, more workmen showed up. Bricks were being taken into Vittore’s rooms, and a door came out. Then the plasterer showed up with his bucket and his pink powder.
Fabio passed Bella, who was out in the hall, sniffing.
‘You smell anything out here?’
Fabio said he didn’t, even though he thought he could, just a little.
‘I’ll get them to check the drains,’ said Bella, and went back to her kitchen.
A few days later the painters and decorators arrived. And then one evening Fabio came home to find all the wine was gone from the hallway.
Fabio waited until Bella was out and Vittore was at work, until he was certain no one else was in the house. He took the spare key to Vittore’s rooms from the hanging horseshoe in Bella’s kitchen and, his heart beating furiously, he went into Vittore and Maria’s section of the house and looked around.
All was pristine in the lounge and the bedroom. He didn’t think to check the wardrobes because he felt panicky just being inside Vittore’s territory. In the kitchen, everything looked much as it should. But he stood there, surveying the room, thinking There’s something’s different about the place. What is it?
And another thing. Lingering below the chemical tang of fresh paint, as he stood there in the kitchen he smelled something else, something that made him put a hand to his nose, pull a disgusted face.
‘Che puzzo! ’ he burst out. The smell.
It was like chicken left in a rubbish bin for too long, like something decaying, something rotting.
He recoiled, feeling faintly sick, and hurried back out into the lounge, through there to the door, and he was afraid now, he was very afraid indeed, because he was thinking, Vittore’s going to come home and find me in here. And if that happened, he didn’t know what would become of him.
Trembling, Fabio stepped out into the – mercifully empty – hall, turned the key and removed it, hurried over to Mama’s kitchen and with a shaking hand hung the thing on the hook on the horseshoe. When that was done he leaned over the sink, poured water, gulped it down.
It was only then that he realized what was different in Vittore’s kitchen.
The cellar door had been bricked up.
87
‘Then I opened the Leicester store. By the mid-sixties I did a deal directly with the manufacturers. I went against the Wholesale Textile Association, cut out the middle men,’ said Ruby, feeling as if she wanted to slump her head onto Kit’s bed and sleep.
They’d told her that they were decreasing the level of Kit’s tranquilizers now, but he looked just the same. He looked dead, but he was still breathing. So she sat there, talking and talking, saying anything that came into her head, her eyes gritty and red-raw, her voice fading sometimes to a hoarse whisper.
It didn’t seem possible, not after all this time. But what was time? How much time had he spent here, in this strange black desert where his only companion was the howling, freezing wind that whipped at his flesh and bones, chilling him to the marrow? There were no stars above him, no cities around him, there was nothing. Just endless night and that strange whispering cacophony of voices that had now become one voice, saying his name, saying, Don’t leave me, don’t go. Slowly, oh so slowly, it couldn’t be possible, could it? Was the black really starting to fade to grey? Or had he been looking at it for so long (and God alone knew how long) that his eyes were playing tricks on him?
Ruby’s head was drooping. It was soporifically hot in intensive care, she was struggling to keep her eyes open. It was late, she’d been here for days, and now all she wanted was to sleep. She was exhausted from all this talking, from looking at Kit so hopefully, praying for a sign, however small, that he was coming back to her. She had run out of words, out of hope, out of strength. She was…
A hand grabbed her shoulder, shook it.
Ruby started awake from a half-doze, looking around, realizing that she had almost fallen asleep.
‘What?’ She dragged a hand through her hair, and gazed up at Corinne, the little blonde nurse.
‘Look,’ said Corinne, nodding to Kit.
Ruby looked. Nothing had changed. She felt crushing disappointment.
‘Look at his eyes,’ said Corinne.
Ruby looked. Kit’s eyes were still closed, no change there. Except… well, something had changed. Just a little. Beneath the closed lids, Kit’s eyes were flicking back and forth, like someone dreaming. This was different. She glanced at Corinne, then back at Kit. His eyes were closed, but yes, they were moving.
‘Is he…?’ asked Ruby.
‘He’s beginning to come round,’ said Corinne.