Deep and Silent Waters

He interrupted her. ‘I loved my father, his death was the worst thing that ever happened to me. I found the old launch, years ago, in the boat-house. The side was stove in, dented and scratched, as if it had hit something very hard. It hadn’t been used for years, but I remembered Antonio setting out in it that day to go to market. I had watched him leave and then, half an hour later, I watched Papa and Gina go.’

‘No, Niccolo, Antonio had had an accident a week before. The boat was waiting to be mended when your father was killed. He wasn’t using it that week. He did the marketing on foot. It’s all in the police records – check them!’

‘I don’t believe you. You had my father murdered.’ Niccolo’s face had turned bone white.

‘No!’ She clung to his arm, desperation in her eyes. ‘Niccolo, think what they did to me – what they were going to do to you! They both deserved to die.’

He pushed down her hands and stepped away, face cold. ‘No. If you had left him, forced an annulment on him, I could understand that. He deserved it. But mur

der? That’s something else. I don’t want you under my roof any more, Mamma. Or Antonio. You can both leave tomorrow. You can find yourself a nice villa by the sea, but stay away from Venice in future. I never want to see you again.’

The Contessa staggered as if she might fall, tried to grab hold of her son but he took another step away.

‘Niccolo …’ She held out a hand. ‘You can’t do this to me! You can’t turn me out of my home after all these years!’

‘You’re a murderer. What I should do is call the police, but I won’t, because I don’t want all the trouble it would cause. But I can’t go on sharing a house with my father’s killer. I’d never feel safe again.’

Her voice rose almost to a shriek. ‘I won’t go! You can’t make me!’

‘I can, and I will.’

They stared at each other, oddly alike in that long moment: obstinacy and tenacity in both faces.

Sebastian turned and began to walk to the door. The Contessa screamed after him, ‘You’re to blame for all this – you and that bitch you brought under my roof, that whore, your whore, with her red hair and those sly eyes. I know what you see in her – she’s the image of your mother, that slut Gina. Do you know she’s been at it with my son? I’ve seen them, watched them, seen Niccolo touching her, naked, his hands all over her—’

Sebastian left the room and shut the door. Laura was leaning on the wall outside, her face wet with tears. He picked her up and carried her down to her room, under the curious eyes of the film crew. There, he put her into the bed and sat down beside her, still holding her.

‘Poor woman,’ she whispered, her arms round his neck. ‘Oh, Sebastian, that poor woman.’

‘The Contessa?’ His face was flinty, closed to all pity. ‘Laura, she’s a murderess! She killed my mother and father. Don’t waste your sympathy on her. You heard what she just said about you, all that sick stuff about you and Niccolo! Or was it true? Was it, Laura?’

‘Don’t!’ She shuddered. ‘You don’t really believe I’ve slept with him?’

‘I believe he’d like you to! I’ve seen the way he looks at you, and I believe he has touched you, at least, even if he’s never got you into bed. Don’t try to tell me he doesn’t fancy you.’

‘Maybe he does – but I’ve never slept with him, or come anywhere near it! And as for his mother, it must be terrible to be so unhappy. Can you even imagine what it must have been like for her? To be in love with her husband and find out he was only pretending to love her too? To have to watch him with another woman?’ Laura grimaced. ‘My skin crept when she was talking about that. And she loves her son very much. It’s obvious she’s devoted her life to him. He won’t really throw her out of her home, will he?’

Sebastian’s face was sombre. ‘Can he ever trust her again? What if he married and brought home a wife to take his mother’s place in Ca’ d’Angeli? How long before she had a fatal accident, Laura?’

‘I hadn’t thought of that. She wouldn’t dare risk it, though, now he knows the truth. Would she?’

‘Would you bet on that?’

She didn’t answer. No, she wouldn’t like to risk a bet on it.

Sebastian stroked her hair, her closed eyes, her cheek. ‘You’re very pale. You ought to sleep for a while. Don’t talk any more, don’t even try to think. Where are your pills? The sedatives the doctor gave you?’

He found them for her and gave her two with a glass of water, lay next to her, caressing her until she fell into a doze. Then he slipped away quietly and went down to talk to Sidney, to look at the pink sheets of the schedule for the next day. He kept an eye on the stairs, watching for the Contessa, and another eye on the door into the part of the palazzo where Laura slept. Just before sunset he went back to check on her and found her staring drowsily at nothing, between sleeping and waking.

‘How do you feel now, my love?’ He bent to kiss her face and at that second they both heard a sound, a sharp crack, from outside the window. Gulls flew up, screeching, their white wings crimson in the setting sun.

‘What was that?’ Laura sat up.

‘Sounded like a shot!’ Sebastian ran to the window and looked out.

Laura got out of bed and joined him. What now? she thought desperately. ‘Maybe it was a motor-boat backfiring?’ she said.

A black gondola with gold stripes along the side was moving away from the landing-stage outside Ca’ d’Angeli. It was being poled by Antonio in his black suit.