I shrugged my shoulders. 'I was working in the lignite mines. It was all right at first. I wasn't getting shot at and the Italians respected me. But later — well, lignite mining isn't my line. And then again I don't like working with Italians. It's all right if you're the boss. But if they feel they've got you by the shorts — well, much more of their sneers and I'd have been involved in fights. And Italians don't fight the way men do in the gold mines.'
He smiled. 'Parlate Italiano?' he asked suddenly.
'Si, si,' I answered. 'Molto bene.' He nodded. 'Benone? He leaned forward. 'Look, Pryce you seem a reasonably honest and dependable sort of fellow. I've got an estate in Italy. It's a big vineyard in the mountains behind Naples — near Benevento.'
'I know,' I said. 'That's where the Strega comes from.'
'That's right. It's not far from Alberti's. That's where Mulligan's cargoes are coming from. We ship out things like lighter flints, contraceptives, Government surplus watches, rubber tyres and so on, things that fetch a high price out there. With the proceeds Mulligan brings back stuff like chianti, kummel, triple sec and strega. The rest of the cargo is made up of cognac, which is what my estate specialises in. Now then, what I need is an agent out there to look after my interests. It doesn't need any detailed knowledge. All I want is someone there on the estate to whom I can send instructions and know that they will be carried out. A man who'll keep an eye on things generally for me.'
'What about Dave?' I asked.
He shook his head. 'No,' he said. 'Dave's a crook. I need somebody honest. I've other plans for Dave. I'm going to open up trade between Italy and Greece. Mulligan's already got me a fair-sized schooner. It's now being re-fitted at Ischia. Well,' he said. 'What about it? It's a fair offer.'
'Suppose I say No?'
He laughed. 'You won't,' he said. Then he got up. 'Well, the sooner you get to work, the sooner you'll be out of the country and safe. And I'll see that Mulligan doesn't rob you on the way out. Get yourself shaved. You'll find a razor in their sleeping quarters. When you're ready I'll be in my office.'
He left me and I sat there, looking at nothing in particular, seeing the parched earth and brown hills of Italy. Christ, how tired I was of the sun and the dust and the flies! I sat there and cursed Mulligan for taking that money from my belt. If I'd had money I'd never have gone to see Tanner. I'd have been on my way to Canada now. And in Canada I'd have found my self respect.
I got up heavily and went into the bedroom. There was a glass above the washstand. I peered at myself. My eyes seemed sunk in black rings of strain and the two days' growth of stubble completed the picture of villainy. I got myself a razor and went through into the kitchen for hot water. The girl was there on her own. She looked frantically round as I entered as though seeking a way of escape. Then her gaze came back to me and remained fixed as though fascinated. 'What do you want?' she asked.
'Some hot water,' I replied, and the instant relief in her face was obvious. As she drew the water off from the tap, I said, 'Why was my mother shut up in that room?'
She didn't answer, so I repeated the question. 'Did they think her mad?' I asked.
She handed me the jug. The steam rose, clouding her eyes as she faced me. 'Did they?' I insisted.
'Please,' she said.
I took the jug and put it down on the table. 'Was it — because of what happened to your mother?' I asked.
She turned as though to run out of the room. But I caught her by the shoulders. 'Was it?' I repeated. I could feel her trembling just as she had done when she came to my room. 'Was it?' My fingers were digging into her flesh. She cried out. But I didn't care. I had to know.»
Then slowly she nodded.
'What happened?' I cried. Tell me what happened?' I still had hold of her and she began to struggle. Then the door opened and the old woman came in. I let Kitty go and picked up the jug The old woman smiled. I went back to the men's quarters then.
As I scraped at the stubble of my beard I fell to thinking of my mother again. And suddenly I knew I just had to find out the truth of what had happened in those years before the war when Kitty's mother had been killed and my mother had been shut up in that horrible attic room.
I finished shaving and went out into the yard and round to the front door. When I entered Captain Manack's office, the safe door was open and he was feeding papers into the fire. 'Won't be a minute, Pryce,' he said. 'Just checking through things in case.' He gave me a quick, secretive smile. I honestly believed the man enjoyed the situation. 'Have a drink,' he said. A tumbler of cognac stood beside him on the desk. He pushed a bottle with an Italian label across the desk to me. 'Pity to waste it,' he added. 'But we can't leave any of it around now. There's a tumbler on the mantelpiece.'
I helped myself and sat thinking about the girl and the house and the whole incredible set-up whilst Manack went through his safe. One thing I noticed as I sat there; the stack of notes from which he had paid Mulligan was gone. There was no money in the safe, not even my hundred and forty-five pounds.
At last he stood up and closed the safe. 'Okay,' he said. We finished the bottle between us and then went out into the damp blanket of the mist. As we left the house I glanced back at it over my shoulder. The little iron-barred window seemed to be watching us, the panes opaque with the white light of the mist. And at a lower window I caught a glimpse of the old man staring out at us, his bearded face thrust close to the panes. There was something very intense about that face at the window. It made me realise that I and his son were going to destroy what he had spent thirty years to achieve. And he'd offered me two hundred and fifty pounds to clear out.
The house suddenly seemed to recede and become a ghostly outline of a building. Then it disappeared, swallowed up in the mist. It was as though there had never been a house there — as though it were all a nightmare. The air was still and heavy and cold. Beyond the muffled drumming of the sea against the cliffs, I heard the distant moaning of the fog signal at Pendeen Watch, away to the north of us.
Captain Manack led the way down a slippery path where black slugs crawled and bracken stalks stood gaunt and brown between great heaps of broken mine debris. We passed an old engine house, its chimney thrusting a broken brick finger into the swirl of white vapour. Great stone arches were all that was left of the old blowing houses and here and there a coagulated mass of rotting iron marked the grave of once-active machinery. There were old shafts surrounded by circular stone walls and great concrete pits, all broken by frost, where the tin had been washed. The mist thinned as we went down towards the cliff top. From white it turned to gold. It was little more than a thin veil of moisture between us and the sun. The iridescence of it strained the eyes.
We joined a rough track. The tyre treads of heavy trucks had made deep ruts in the mud between the patches of broken stone. The track led us to a huddle of stone-built sheds with galvanised iron roofs. Manack took us into the nearest. It was full of tools and stores. In a corner was a small forge for resharpening drills. He took down an overall and handed it to me. 'Try that,' he said. 'You and my father are about the same size. There's a pair of his gum boots over there. You'll need them. The mine's pretty wet.' They fitted reasonably well and when we had equipped ourselves in overalls, gum boots and miners' helmets, and had primed our lamps, he led me across to the largest shed which housed the hoist. There were wide doors to this shed and the marks of trucks ran right up to the cage. 'We back the lorries in here so that nobody can see what we're loading,' he explained. I think he really enjoyed showing someone the way they worked.