In another life, p.25
In Another Life, page 25
‘What about the other men, Salvatore’s friends?’ he asked, his voice calm but urgent.
‘They all left when the first shot was fired. There’s only me here. But the children. We can’t let the children see.’
Danny didn’t seem to register what she’d said.
‘He should never have met them here again,’ he said, more to himself than to her. ‘It was stupid. Stupid!’
Natalie didn’t understand.
‘Who’s stupid? Who are you talking about?’ she asked.
‘Salvatore. His bloody ego. He was always so careful, especially recently, but he couldn’t resist showing off this house. There were two of them?’
Natalie nodded.
‘Who were they?’ she asked. ‘Why did they shoot Salvatore? What had he done?’
All kinds of ideas were running through her head. She remembered what Annette had said, how she had warned her not to talk to anyone else about . . . And now Natalie found that she was so frightened she couldn’t even form the word in her head.
But that was ridiculous. Salvatore was an ordinary businessman. The Barbieris were an ordinary family. Why would anyone want to come into his home, his private sanctuary, and shoot him dead?
She had nothing but questions and she deserved some answers after what she had just witnessed. There could be no more pussyfooting around. She had to understand what was going on here, what she had unwittingly become part of.
‘Was Salvatore involved with the Mafia?’ she asked bluntly. ‘Did they do this?’
She thought of the man she had seen, the cool calmness with which he had pulled the trigger. This had been no spur-of-the-moment violence or a robbery gone horribly wrong. He had come to the house to do a job and he had carried it out efficiently and effectively.
‘I think they did, yes,’ replied Danny. ‘But Salvatore wasn’t part of it.’
Natalie was confused.
‘Then why . . . ?’
Danny put a hand over his eyes, rubbed at his forehead and seemed to consider for a moment. Then he spoke.
‘I don’t suppose it matters now,’ he said. ‘Given what’s happened, but you might as well know. Salvatore was leading a consortium of businessmen who want to end the stranglehold that the Mafia has. They were working with the magistrates in Palermo.’
‘Like the one who was killed by the car bomb?’ asked Natalie.
Danny nodded.
‘Salvatore wasn’t naive. He knew the risks. But they didn’t think anyone would know what they were talking about way out here where there’s virtually no Mafia presence. But someone must have passed something on. And now . . . God, what a mess.’
‘What do we do?’ asked Natalie. ‘The children mustn’t see.’ This was fast becoming the only focus of Natalie’s mind.
‘I’ll ring the carabinieri,’ Danny said, getting to his feet to go to the telephone.
And then he stopped as a thought crossed his mind.
‘Wait. You said he saw you, the gunman?’
She thought of the moments in which she and the man with the high cheekbones had locked eyes with one another, how he had raised his gun and pointed it directly at her. His features were fixed in her memory, so she had to assume that hers were in his.
She nodded.
‘Shit. Then you’re not safe here. He might come back for you. We need to get you away, for now at least. Go and pack a bag. I’ll talk to the carabinieri, tell them it me who saw everything. You have to go.’
This was all moving too fast for Natalie’s mind.
‘But where?’ she asked. ‘I don’t know anyone except the family.’
‘We have friends,’ replied Danny. ‘You can go to one of those and lie low until we see what’s going to happen next.’
‘But why don’t I just talk to the police myself?’ Natalie asked. ‘Surely they can keep me safe. I can describe the gunman and then they’ll find him and arrest him and . . . and . . .’
But Danny was shaking his head.
‘Oh Natalie. You’ve got a lot to learn.’
62
So, Natalie did as she was told. She went back to her bedroom and resumed her packing. Her hands shook so violently that it was hard to pick things up and her head swam as she tried to focus on what she needed. Should she take everything? She had no idea if she would be coming back. Maybe she should be travelling light so she could move fast.
What she did know was that every minute counted. She needed to be away from the house before either the gunman or the family returned. She didn’t want lengthy explanations to Stella to delay her departure, but the thought that she was running away exactly when the family most needed her made her feel ashamed to her very core.
Maybe there was no need to run. It felt like an extreme response. Surely the police would protect her. Then again, who had protected Salvatore? Thinking of Salvatore made her think again of Stella and the children. Paola was so small, the boys barely any bigger. How could anyone begin to explain to them what had happened here that night?
She could help them, be there for them all, yet Danny said she had to run. She didn’t know who was right or what to do for the best. Could she trust Danny? Could she trust anyone? Natalie had no idea.
It didn’t take long to finish her packing as she had already done the bulk of it earlier in the evening. It was hard to remember that time now, a time when everything had been normal, with nothing more serious to worry about other than whether Danny would ever kiss her again.
But now her safe little world had been thrown into chaos. Her breath was coming in short sharp bursts that hurt her chest and she tried to steady herself. It would be okay. The gunman had no idea of her name, an anonymous English girl who would have been gone from this house within a couple of days anyway. And what was she going to do? She had only seen him for a couple of seconds, hardly enough to reliably identify someone.
She would be able to identify him, though. Natalie knew that and he would know it too. For that single moment there had been nothing else in the world – just him and her. And they had both seen something that they would never be able to unsee. She tried to banish the image of Salvatore slumped in his chair, the bloom of bright-red blood on his crisp white shirt.
And then the other one . . .
But the second image was too disturbing. She focused on the first, trying to make that the one that stayed with her. It was bad enough but at least his body had still been intact. He might have been sleeping if she hadn’t looked too closely.
A quick rap on her door made her start and then freeze as if whoever it was could see her through the wood.
‘It’s me,’ came a voice. ‘Danny.’
She let her breath go and opened the door cautiously. Danny stood there, a pair of her trainers in his hand, collected no doubt from the pile by the back door.
‘Ready?’ he asked.
She wasn’t. She needed more time to process. She wanted to speak to Etta, hear her calming voice on the other end of the phone. Etta would know what she should do.
But there wasn’t time for any of that. She had to leave and now, before the man with the high cheekbones was sent back to finish what he had started.
Instead, she nodded, zipped up her case and hefted it from the bed. Danny grabbed it, grimacing slightly at the weight.
‘My friend Marco is coming to pick you up. He’ll take you to his place. You’ll be safe there for now.’
‘Who is he?’ asked Natalie, suddenly feeling suspicious of someone whose existence she knew nothing of a few seconds before. Was this how she would be now, nervous of anyone and everyone, unable to trust?
‘A friend. He works . . .’ – Danny corrected himself – ‘worked with Salvatore. He’ll understand and you can lie low there for a few days until this blows over. He’s outside.’
Natalie hardly dared ask the next question, but she needed to know the answer.
‘Am I really in danger?’
He was going to say no. He was going to say that what had happened wasn’t ideal but that the man who had blown off the head of her employer had far bigger fish to fry than her, and would assume she was just a frightened little girl who would run and hide and never even try to describe what she had seen other than in the vaguest of terms.
But what he actually said was, ‘I’m not sure.’
This wasn’t what she wanted to hear. Not at all.
He must have sensed her terror because he added, ‘Don’t worry. Marco will know what to do. You’ve got your passport, haven’t you?’
She had.
‘Yes, but I can’t leave Sicily,’ she objected. ‘What about the kids? They’ll think I walked out on them like all the other nannies.’
‘Don’t worry. I’ll tell them you had to go and visit someone.’
‘And what about Stella? She’s going to need me. Her husband is dead.’
The family’s life was never going to be the same again. Natalie knew exactly how it felt to have a bomb explode at the heart of a family’s world, knew what that would do to them all.
The thought pulled her up short. What was she doing? She couldn’t just run away. She had to stay and help.
‘I can’t leave,’ she said emphatically.
‘You don’t have any choice,’ snapped Danny as he dragged her case towards the stairs.
Part of her wanted to object. She wanted to say that she would stay and face the consequences so that she could comfort the children and help Stella when she needed her most. She wanted to make sure that no one thought badly of her for running.
But she was terrified. She had just watched a man have his life snatched away from him by someone who hadn’t thought twice about doing the same to her. If he hadn’t been disturbed, she would be dead. If she was going to be of any use to the family in the future then she had to protect herself for now.
Turning, she took one last look at her bedroom and then she followed Danny down the stairs.
63
They moved quickly through the dark house and Danny led her to the back door.
‘We’ll go out this way so no one sees you leave,’ he said.
Natalie followed blindly, hardly registering where they were going. They crossed the courtyard, ignoring the path to the main gates, and made their way to a narrow alley at the back of the house that was too small for cars. A man was waiting there for them, a baseball cap pulled down over his eyes.
‘Ciao, Marco,’ said Danny. ‘Grazie mille.’
The other man nodded but didn’t say anything. Natalie hoped he spoke some English. She had so many questions. Then Danny turned to her, resting his hands gently on her shoulders. Before that night she would have hoped this was a precursor to a kiss, but now she just wanted him to hold her to stop her trembling.
‘Go with Marco,’ he said. ‘It’ll be fine. Lie low. I’ll tell the police what you told me and we can keep you out of it. The men won’t come after me because they don’t know anything about me and you will be gone. It’ll be fine.’
Tears were streaming down Natalie’s face but she wasn’t sobbing, was barely even aware of them.
‘I’ll see you soon?’ she said, more of a question than a statement.
‘Definitely,’ he replied. ‘Now go.’
He pushed her gently towards Marco, who picked up her case and led her silently away.
His car was parked at the end of a warren of alleyways so twisting and convoluting that Natalie lost her bearings, but when she looked up they were by the bridge that led from Ortigia to Syracuse. He threw her case into the boot and opened the back door. There was a picnic blanket on the seat, a cheerful red-and-yellow check. It seemed so incongruous next to the horror of the evening.
Marco nodded at it. Was she supposed to get underneath it? Wasn’t that a bit extreme? It was dark and it seemed unlikely that anyone would be watching. But Natalie did as he suggested and sat low in the footwell, pulling the blanket over her head. It smelled faintly of petrol and it made her feel queasy again.
The car started up and Marco drove steadily, taking care on the corners so that she wasn’t thrown about in the back. Natalie had no idea where they were going but that wasn’t important. The main thing was that they were putting distance between her and the destroyed body of Salvatore.
She stayed under the blanket, not knowing whether she was supposed to or not. She wanted to ask that, and how far they were going, but Marco maintained a stony silence and so she did too. It couldn’t be far because Marco had appeared very quickly after Danny had summoned him. It occurred to her that Marco might have been at the dinner and already on the scene. Perhaps he had seen something and could share her terrible burden.
As she thought about it, however, she remembered that the guests had all fled as soon as the gunman appeared. She had heard them running in their panic. She alone had seen what happened next.
She was the only witness. Cold tendrils of dread began to coil around her all over again and she hunkered down into the darkness beneath the blanket.
Eventually, though, she needed fresher air and chanced a peek out. The evening light had faded now and it was totally dark. They must be in the depths of the Sicilian countryside. Surely, the further they got from Ortigia, the safer she was. This thought calmed her a little until she remembered what she had seen and then suddenly she was frightened again.
She wasn’t safe.
She wasn’t sure she would ever be safe again.
After about half an hour the car began to slow and then came to a stop. Natalie stayed where she was under her blanket, waiting for further instructions.
‘We’re here,’ said a man in English. ‘Let’s go inside. Quick.’
Tentatively, Natalie raised a corner of her shroud but couldn’t see much. It was dark and there was no street lighting, only the car’s dim interior bulb. She unfolded herself, her body stiff from crouching, and got out. Marco was retrieving her case from the boot.
‘Come,’ he said.
They were in a hamlet, a collection of a few stone-built cottages. He led her to the nearest and opened the door, flicking on the light as he went inside. Natalie followed him. The door led straight into a tiny kitchen furnished with a rustic wooden table and chairs. A woman with short dark hair was sitting at the table and she leapt up when Natalie appeared. Natalie flinched at the sudden movement but the woman spoke softly.
‘Benvenuta,’ she said. ‘Welcome.’
Natalie tried to smile but her lips were stuck to her teeth.
‘Grazie,’ she managed.
‘Sit.’ The woman gestured to one of the chairs. ‘Drink? Coffee? Water? Strega?’
Natalie shook her head. She was suddenly too exhausted for anything. Her shoulders slumped and tears began to slip down her cheeks.
The woman didn’t speak but came and put her arms around Natalie. Natalie leaned into the embrace and sobbed.
64
Somehow Natalie slept but when she awoke, feeling calmer than she had the day before, she had questions about where she was and what was going to happen next.
She dressed quickly and went to the kitchen, hoping to find Marco or the kind woman from the night before. Someone must be able to tell her what was going on.
But the house was deserted. She called ‘hello’ as she came down the stairs but no one replied. A pot of coffee was on the hob in the kitchen. Natalie touched it and it was hot, freshly made. There was a new loaf of bread on the table with a butter dish and some cheese and tomatoes. Were these for her? Natalie had to assume so and she cut herself a hunk of bread and cheese and ate quickly, suddenly more hungry than she had realised.
She tried to remember what Danny had said the night before. He’d said she would see him soon, she was sure of that. Would that be at this house, or had he envisaged that she would be able to go back to the villa with the family? Natalie wished she had a firmer grasp of the plan.
Etta would know what to do. She always did. Suddenly, Natalie needed to speak to her sister more than anyone else in the world. There had to be a phone here and surely Marco wouldn’t mind her using it in the circumstances. She could pay him back for the call.
Taking a hunk of cheese with her, Natalie went in search of the phone and found it in the tiny sitting room. She lifted the receiver and heard the unfamiliar dialling tone. Then she rang Loretta’s number. It was Sunday but she was an hour ahead so whilst Loretta would be in, she might still be asleep. However, after a few rings the line connected and she heard Loretta on the other end.
‘Hello?’ she said. She sounded a little bit sleepy but more concerned about who might be ringing her this early on a Sunday.
‘Etta. It’s me.’
‘Nat. How lovely. How are you? It’s bloody early, or have you not been to bed yet?’
Natalie could hear the lightness in her sister’s voice and wished she could reciprocate.
‘Etta, listen,’ she said. ‘Something’s happened. Something bad.’
‘Oh my God, are you okay?’ Etta’s response was gratifyingly quick and anxious.
‘Yeah. I’m fine,’ she said quickly. ‘But it’s Salvatore. He was shot last night at the house. I saw it happen.’
There was a silence on the other end as Loretta processed what she had heard.
‘Shot? Is he okay?’
Natalie squeezed her eyes tight shut.
‘No. He’s dead. They killed him. And I saw it. Or part of it, at least.’
‘Wait. Nat. You’re not making any sense. Who shot him?’ Loretta said, her tone urgent now.
Natalie swallowed. It felt as if by voicing what had happened, she would make it more real somehow, which she knew was silly. It didn’t get much more real than this. She lowered her voice to a whisper.
‘The Mafia. Salvatore was trying to stop them and they shot him.’
The whole thing sounded beyond far-fetched to Natalie but somehow Loretta seemed to have got the point straight away.
