‘Certainly.’
Waiting for the return call, Samuel was still unsure if he had done the right thing, but either way, he had made the decision, and all he could do now was manage things from there. When the officer finally rang in through the main switchboard, she assured him she would pass the information on to the investigation team. He gave his mobile phone number should they need to contact him outside office hours.
He hung up feeling unsettled about the call and his divulging of patient information. It was up to the police now how they chose to proceed. He had done everything he could do.
Meadow View
HE THOUGHT ABOUT KATE. HER EYES HAD LOOKED TIRED this morning. She must have spent the night crying, poor thing. She had tried to hide it, of course, for the sake of the boy. Not that he’d appreciated it, mind you. He had barely waved to his mother at the school gates. He would have done anything to have had a mother like Kate, but most people don’t get that lucky. Most people have to play the hand they’re given. Silvia had understood that. She’d looked on difficulties as challenges, not knowing how cruel real evil could be. He should have protected her, he knew that now. It was no excuse, being only a boy. Learning about his mother’s meddling had brought clarity, but it hadn’t lessoned his guilt. That would be his burden to bear.
He fed Tabs, then took his time walking back up the stairs. He felt relief once he closed the bedroom door and pulled the curtains closed to darken the room. Lying on the bed, he allowed his mind drift, just like he had taught himself to do as a boy.
Events over the past while had taken their toll on him. Certain aspects – Mother, dealing with that other business in Tuscany – were inevitable necessities, but that didn’t lessen their impact. Justice had waited far too long to be done. He still remembered returning from Suvereto, how lonely and lost he had felt, no longer interested in all the things that used to enthral him. Silvia was perfectly safe now. She was in a place where no one could hurt her. Mother’s instruction had been clear: there would be no mention of what had happened in Italy; he was to keep his big mouth shut. Nothing, she had warned him, would be achieved by bringing up that awful mess again. Besides, the bishop had given his word that he would look after them. Their money worries were gone, their future independence guaranteed. Things would be different from now on. She could buy him all the comics and toys he wanted; all he had to do was ask. Two weeks earlier, her words would have meant everything to him. Two weeks earlier, he hadn’t known Silvia.
He had kept his side of the bargain and had never mentioned it to a living soul. Over time, he had accepted it for what it was. We all have burdens. Had it not been for her ailing health and the painkillers, her evil brain wouldn’t have been tricked into telling him what had really happened. Once he knew the truth, events had to take their own course.
It had been at the beginning of his third week at Castello de Luca that he’d realised how much Silvia meant to him. They had been acting out a play about Joan of Arc. Silvia was Joan, while he’d imitated the angry crowd, kneeling on a pile of straw to burn her at the stake. When he’d cried, he thought she would laugh at him, think him stupid, but she hadn’t.
‘Don’t cry, William. I hate it when people cry.’
‘I’m okay.’
‘You’re not. You’re sad. Don’t be sad.’
‘I can’t help it.’
‘Did I upset you?’
‘No.’
‘Well then, why are you crying? Is it the play? We can do something else. We can pretend we’re going on a great adventure, the way we do when the castello gets dark.’
‘It’s not that.’
‘What is it then?’
‘I don’t want to go home.’
‘Why not?’
‘I have no friends there.’
‘But everyone has friends.’
‘I don’t. They all hate me.’
‘Why do they hate you?’
‘I don’t know. Mother says they’re jealous.’
‘Are they?’
‘Maybe. I don’t know. They just do, that’s all.’
‘It won’t be so bad. We can write. You love stamps and stickers. I’ll put a different one on every time I send you a letter.’
‘But I won’t see you. You’ll forget about me.’
‘Friendship isn’t like that, William. It stays even when people are apart.’
She had been right. He had never lost her. She was far too important.
Years later, when his mother had become convinced that Silvia was haunting her, a part of him had wanted to believe it. Despite her hysterical blubbering, he had been excited by the idea. Of course, he’d spoken to the young girl fifteen years earlier. He befriended her. He’d even taken her to his hideout and given her one of the tiny crucifixes to keep her safe. But he’d known she wasn’t right.
Mother had never been the same afterwards.