Nico was bellowing at Massimo. ‘What sort of pathetic excuse for a bloke hits a confused old man spouting nonsense, then turns on his wife? What’s got into you, Mass?’ Then I saw a hesitation on Nico’s face, a jag of pain, as though the distant possibility that Robert’s words might be true had just began to sink in.
I looked from Nico to Francesca and Sandro, desperate to stop what I knew was coming next. But before I could bundle the children out of the room, Massimo lifted up his head, making use of the extra couple of inches he had on Nico. A slow smile spread over his face and my stomach churned. He looked like a cat batting a moth, deciding whether to go for the kill or play a bit longer.
‘Let’s just say there are some women who don’t find me pathetic.’ He shrugged his shoulders in a ‘What could I do?’ gesture. ‘Caitlin included. While you were pratting about with your alliums and agapanthus, your wife was a bit neglected. So, let’s say, when you weren’t there for her, I filled the gap. So to speak.’
I was pretty sure Nico had never punched anyone in temper in his life but his whole body was rigid with fury. I was ready to cheer if Massimo got the uppercut he deserved. And if Nico didn’t lamp him one, I might just step in myself.
In a voice shaking with anger, Nico said, ‘You couldn’t resist it, could you? The idea I might be happy, that someone might love me more than they loved you. You had to have her, didn’t you?’
I winced. I liked to pretend to myself that Nico hadn’t ever loved Caitlin. Practical, straight-talking me wanted to believe their love had been a blurry photocopy of our high-definition relationship. I was obviously falling into that second wife syndrome of denying anything good took place before my rescuing arrival.
Massimo laughed, a sarcastic sound that made me want to slap him so hard his ears would ring into the middle of next week. ‘She came after me, mate. Little bit of opera, little bit of afternoon tea, easy pickings. My own wife was just getting her tits out for the baby by then, so worked well for both of us.’
I wanted to throw up out of pure rage. I heard Francesca sob. I spun round. ‘Francesca, come on, love. You don’t want to hear this.’
I caught hold of her arm, bracing myself for resistance but she let herself be led out. I put my other arm around Sandro and rushed them next door to Mum, pushing them over the threshold and shouting, ‘I’ll explain later, back in a mo,’ over my shoulder.
Sandro flew into Mum’s arms. Poor little mite. I’d have to deal with my guilt at the occasions when I’d been rolling my eyes thinking he was a bit of a wet blanket at a later date.
I dashed back to Lara’s and scooted into the lounge to see Nico take a swing at Massimo. There was something of the spaghetti arms about his punch, as though he hadn’t used his limbs for that particular movement before. But he still made contact with Massimo’s chin. Massimo staggered backwards, taking with him a tray of crystal glasses before gathering himself and charging at Nico.
Massimo was the heavier and more powerful of the two but Nico was more nimble on his feet. As I watched them take swipes at each other, a little Lladro ornament was decapitated, a Wedgwood bowl went flinging off the sideboard. I tried to get between them but it was like trying to separate a couple of snarling dogs.
‘Stop it!’ My voice sounded as though it was coming from a distant hill, where the wind had removed all power and just a feeble echo remained. I stepped forward. ‘Nico! Don’t do this. You’re better than that. Better than him.’
As though an alarm clock had suddenly penetrated a deep, red wine sleep, Nico stopped dead, his chest heaving. I glanced at Massimo, who, despite his split lip, was still managing to contort his face into a sneer, his fingers clenching and unclenching. Nothing like the charming man I’d believed he was. I stood in front of Nico and stared Massimo down.
‘What do you know about me, Maggie? What do you know about anything? Except how to gold-dig?’
Nico sent out a growl of anger to my left. I put out my hand to stop him moving towards Massimo. Of course I registered that blow, the slice into a wound that was always ready to split open. But I wasn’t the one who was going to feel bad. Oh no. Not at all. I could almost hear my inner steel oiling itself up for action.
The Beryl in me came out. ‘Here’s what I know. I don’t go through life getting what I want by hurting people. I also know it doesn’t matter what I say, how much I love Nico, your shrivelled little heart won’t ever be able to believe I’m with him for anything other than money because people like you don’t understand working together, looking out for each other. They only understand getting their own way.’ To my credit, I did pause for a second’s consideration before I let my killer point out into the world. ‘You might be right that I’m a bit thick. It’s taken me all this time to realise what you’re really like. But I met someone today who put me in the picture. And I didn’t want to believe her. I was hoping she just had an axe to grind, that her story wasn’t the truth.’
Massimo’s eyes pinged up like a cartoon dog’s. He was having to work harder at that sneer.
‘Yes, I bumped into Dawn today. You do know that your “other” son is a swimming champion? That the boy you abandoned because he was “defective”, as you put it, came first in the swimming championships Francesca has just been to?’
Nico put his hand on his hips. ‘What other son?’
The relief that only Massimo knew about Ben gave my anger a sharper edge. ‘Tell him, Massimo. Tell him how Dawn had to run away because she was afraid you would make her abort your own son because he had a heart problem.’
Nico was shaking his head, disbelief flooding his face. ‘What? I thought you said she didn’t want children.’
Massimo looked at the floor. Just for a second, I felt a sliver of sympathy for him. He’d behaved like an absolute arse but I couldn’t bring myself to believe he’d done it without a lot of heartache.
But that little pause was just to allow Massimo time to reload. When he looked up again, he’d narrowed his eyes as though he was flicking through a mental armoury of weapons he could use to wound me. ‘Don’t come that holier than thou shit, Maggie. At least I’m not a thief.’
I wasn’t quite sure how being a thief was worse than intimidating your wife so much that she had to flee and hide to save her baby. But today didn’t seem to be about rational arguments. He’d picked the wrong insult to throw at me.
‘I’m not a thief. I’ve never stolen a thing in my life. I couldn’t give a shit about money. Nico is always wanting to buy me this, that and the other, but I’ve seen what trying to keep up with everyone else does to people and believe me, I am happy as I am.’
‘What about the gold box you “lost”?’
I felt a rush of betrayal that Lara had told him. ‘I had to get rid of it. And you know why.’ I glanced at Nico, wishing I could save him from the truth.
‘Why? Come on, we’re all family here. Do share with us why you felt you had to take a box worth hundreds of pounds.’
‘How would you know how much it was worth?’