‘No, Ellie. I haven’t seen any images, just what I heard on the radio, but I understand how it could confuse you, cause you to think all sorts of things.’
‘You don’t understand. I know it’s the same man.’
‘How can you know?’
‘Because of what Bridget said.’
‘Bridget?’
‘Yes, Bridget. She told me this morning about the first girl they found in the mountains, that she was wearing a crucifix. I saw a picture of her on the television yesterday and she looked just like Amy. They could have been sisters.’
‘Ellie, please understand me when I say this, it is very possible that the incident of these girls’ deaths, and the memory from all those years ago, could be getting mixed up inside your head.’
‘You don’t believe me.’
‘It’s not that, Ellie.’
‘Well what is it then?’ I want to stand up, walk away, but I have to make him believe me.
‘Look, I’m just saying that we need to be careful. The mind is capable of tricking us at times.’
‘You are just like the rest of them.’
‘Who?’
‘All of them, all of the others, they didn’t believe me either.’
‘Calm down, Ellie.’
‘I am calm.’
‘You say you heard all this from Bridget this morning?’
‘Yes.’
‘But that you had already heard some stuff, seen some stuff?’
‘Yes, on the television.’
‘When?’
‘Yesterday. It was a repeat of the Late Late Show from Friday night.’
‘And you hadn’t seen it before?’
‘No, not before. Why do you ask? What difference does it make?’
‘I was just wondering about it, perhaps something you heard or saw could have upset you the other day?’
‘I hadn’t seen anything the other day. Look, I want to go.’
‘Ellie.’
‘I want to go. NOW.’
‘Perhaps it’s best if we talk later, when you’re less anxious.’
‘Will you believe me then?’
‘Ellie, you are obviously upset. I can see that. You look pale. I will give you something that will help you relax. Then, if you’re up to it, we can talk later.’
‘Give me whatever you like, but I want the picture of me and Amy.’
He reacts to the defiance in my voice by breathing inwards and pausing, then, without question, he hands me the photograph from the file. ‘I’ll get someone to take you down to your room.’
I don’t answer him.
‘Ellie, are you okay?’
‘Couldn’t be better.’ Walking to the door, I don’t look back at him, but turn the handle as if I’m a free woman, like everybody else.
Meadow View
EVEN THOUGH IT HAD BEEN WELL PAST MIDNIGHT BY THE time he’d returned to Meadow View, he rose early on Monday morning and followed the same routine as if it had been a work day. Kate’s light had stayed on until late. It had taken everything within him to resist going to her. She looked so fragile on the couch. He’d watched her from the fire escape, understanding fully what it’s like when someone you care about lets you down. She was well rid of that husband, though. It took a special kind of person to understand someone like Kate. She needed someone like him, someone who would appreciate her. Of course, timing in these matters was crucial.
He made breakfast – two poached eggs and wheat bread – and decided to fill the kitchen with music in celebration of not having to go into Newell Design. Taking the music centre down from the bedroom, he chose one of his favourites, Vivaldi’s Le Quattro Stagioni, ‘La Primavera’. There was something uplifting about new beginnings. Raising the volume to the highest, he blocked out all other sounds, marvelling at how great music could raise you from the mundane, could lift spirit and soul, in such an extraordinary way. It was precisely what he needed.
His suffering had made him a stronger man, and he had no intention of engaging in any outpouring of emotion, indulging in melodrama like Gabriel and his mother had done. He didn’t approve of such heightened performances, he’d even disliked it as a boy; drama had always been his mother’s speciality.
In Livorno, it had been the same. They had only arrived at Castello de Luca when it became evident that each time his mother spoke, she would assume a raised tone, a ploy she’d used to illustrate that she meant business. Despite his young age, he had sensed that Bishop Antonio Peri wasn’t a man who would be distracted easily. From the very first day, the bishop had given the distinct impression that, despite his mother’s sense of importance, neither she nor her son had been wanted there.