Chapter 12

Chapter 12 - A Set Back

“So Angela, how is he now?” Giacomo asked quietly.

“Well, you know, he has his ups and downs. But he appears to be slowly progressing. At least he doesn’t seem to get much worse.”

“And how are you doing? It must be tough.” Giacomo looked at Angela caringly.

“Oh, I’m ok. Really I’m fine. I miss Giuseppe a little. But Bruno’s not too much work. I just worry for him.” Angela smiled convincingly at Giacomo.

“He doesn’t deserve you Angela. I hope he knows how lucky he is.” Giacomo whispered to Angela.

Angela smiled embarrassedly.

Giacomo continued. “And you look great, so he’d better watch out.”

“Oh, Giacomo, come on now.” Angela joked it off.

“Well, whatever far off disease he has, I’m sure he deserves it.” Giacomo then fell silent.

Angela looked up at Giacomo. There was something in the way he said it. Angela caught her breath. Was this a signal? Did he know? No, he couldn’t know. Angela debated with herself. Searching, suddenly panicked. She looked deep into his eyes for an instant. For the smallest instant. She searched his soul. She had to know. Giacomo smiled fondly back. Angela relaxed. She changed the subject.

Then Angela gracefully turned to talk to the man on her right. She had been seated at the right of Giacomo. She was now regularly Giacomo’s partner at the Grimaldi dinner parties. Giacomo insisted on it. But only now did he start to place Angela on his right. Only now did he have the confidence. After all, il Conte was getting old and gradually weaker and Giacomo cared less about Bruno. He knew he need fear his brother no longer. He just knew it.

So now he placed Angela on his right, where she deserved to be. A true Grimaldi in Giacomo’s mould. The new generation. She and Giacomo would be the future, he concluded. Thank God, they could take the family forwards in a different direction. A direction his father and his brother could never even consider. He just needed to help Angela stay the course. He could shelter and guide her. He knew it. And then he could make good all the times he remained silent and all the times he left her to the mercy of that son of a bitch, and Giuseppe too. He would never have a son. He knew that now. So he must protect Angela and her son like they were his own.

“So, how are you Luogotenente?” Angela turned to il Commandante, Luogotenente Vernaccia, the local police chief.

He looked different without his hat. His hat that resembled a peacock. But his immaculate uniform reminded her of the man. The pompous man inside. His vanity defied gravity like the feathers protruding gracefully from his white helmet. That helmet with it’s golden strap. She worked hard to keep a straight face.

“Ah, benissimo, benissimo. And what a lovely meal.” Il Commandante then buried his face into another bowl of fried seafood.

Angela looked up at the small beads of sweat collecting on the police chiefs immaculate forehead. It was a warm June night. And his formal dress uniform was strangely not designed for such heat.

“But how are you Angela? And how is Bruno?” Il Commandante asked sincerely.

“Oh, you know, getting along.”

“Is he improving?”

“Slowly, slowly, you know.”

“Yes, yes, of course I know.” Il Commandante obviously knew everything.

“And how are you faring? It must be tough.”

“Well, I get on.”

“Is Giacomo helping keep your matters in order?”

“No, I’m fine on my own.”

“But, surely, surely you need a man around to help you both?” Il Commandante was put out.

“I can manage fine on my own. Really.”

Il Commandante’s proper mouth popped open like one of the fishes he was devouring. His eyes bulged with surprise and indignation. Then he remembered he was talking to a Grimaldi so he shut his mouth and smiled.

It was later that evening, when all the guests were having coffee in the magnificent old drawing room with marble floors and gold silk curtains covered by mosaic ceilings, that il Conte approached Angela.

“How’s my son getting along?”

“Oh, ok, really.”

“I still don’t understand why I can’t see him.”

“Not yet, it would be dangerous for you. He’s still contagious. And you could pass it on.”

“It’s been so long now. It’s well over a month. It’ll be two months soon. This is not correct. This isn’t normal. I have a mind…”

“When he’s better, you’ll be the first to visit him. I promise.”

Angela smiled dotingly at her father in law. It worked. His ego withdrew at her subservience and he changed subject.

“Are you two ok for everything?”

“Yes, but thank you, we’re fine.”

“I hear you’re representing Bruno at his reading circle. Is that correct? I mean it’s all men. I mean…”

“It’s fine. It’s important for his work. He keeps writing. It’s important.”

Angela took control again. Il Conte didn’t quite know what to do. So he ummed and he eered and he finally moved on. It was lucky he didn’t know she joined Bruno’s poker group as well. Angela smiled to herself at the faces of Bruno’s friends when she turned up. She said that he insisted. They didn’t know what to do. She could never have imagined a better mannered poker group.

“Angela, let me walk you home.” Giacomo insisted at the end of coffee as the guests started politely retiring.

“Thanks, Giacomo.”

It was a perfect night. The moon was full and huge. It sat like a giant pearl surrounded by gems dotting the velvety black sky. You could just make out the silhouette of Monte Amiato. Angela sighed as she saw her mountain there. So strong, so quiet, so alone, like an old and faithful dog waiting patiently for her. Sitting proudly, not moving, Just waiting for her to return home. Monte Amiato remained in her sight all the way back.

“Goodnight Angela.” Giacomo said as he returned her to Piazza Rimazza. “Oh, and Angela, If you ever need anything, you promise you’ll ask, ok?”

“I promise” Angela responded as she walked away.

“Anything, Angela. And, and if you need to talk to someone, you know you can talk to me, about anything. You know that right?” Giacomo stared at her with the greatest sincerity.

Now Angela knew he was trying to tell her something. She knew that he must know. How could he? She fretted again. Then she stepped forward and hesitated for one short moment. She slowly opened her mouth. Then she closed it.

“Goodnight Giacomo. And thank you.” Angela walked away.

As Angela closed their front door behind her she sank. She sank with terror and realizations. She sank all the way to the floor. She could feel her stomach tightening. She heard it groan. Her mind raced. They were closing in on her. They were closing in on her like a pack of wolves. And then she remembered. She suddenly remembered and she ran. She ran up the stairs like a child chased by an angry parent. Her desperate sprint meant that she scrapped her shin on the top step. She squealed in pain as she rounded the corner. She practically fell into the drawing room. And there he was, sitting in the arm chair, staring at her. She froze.

The night was hot and the stench was terrible. The stench of rotten, decaying flesh smothered her nostrils and clouded her mind. And she could see it in his skin. His skin flaking and peeling like an ancient, tree trunk after a cold winter and after ravenous deer had picked at it.

And then her mind cleared. It was instantly clearer than it had been since he died. It was over. The game was over and she was doomed. She was doomed for ever. She sank again, slowly, calmly she sank to her knees all while she stared at him. They would take her away and there would be nothing she could do. Her parents would become Giuseppe’s parents. And that would be that.

As she sat before his stagnant body, she hated herself once more. She hated herself more than ever. Why had she forgotten to put him back in the freezer? Oh why? And it was such a warm night and all the windows were shut. It was like a sauna in there. A sauna with a rotten stench. With the rotten stench of a corpse which had decomposed beyond the point of no return. So, all in one night, her game had ended and everything she knew would change. She was a murderer and a criminal and she would die in some forgotten prison. Old and rotten. As she should. She closed her eyes and saw darkness. Her mind became black again. Blacker than black. Horribly, endlessly, revoltingly black.

Angela lay there with her eyes closed while everyone in Piazza Rimazza slept. They slept deeply in the warmth of the night. All except for Signora Malaventa. She sat by her window and stared. Her gaze fixed at the Grimaldi house. Fixed on Angela. Unblinking, like a night owl. Silent like a shadow.

copyright ©Philip L Letts 2007