distinct lack of enthusiasm. ‘I guess I can be there in twenty minutes. Does that work for you?’
Federico says it does and they agree to meet in reception.
She thinks about mentioning that she knows he called Major Caesario, but decides to save it until they’re face to face.
When she’s finished, Tom is sitting up in bed, bare-chested, hair tousled and eyes full of expectancy. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she says, ‘I have to go straight away. I’ll be back as soon as possible, promise.’ She wants to kiss him, a kiss just to apologise, to show he’s not second choice to work. But she daren’t.
One kiss won’t be enough.
One kiss will result in making her at least an hour late.
She dresses quickly. Smart black Armani jeans and a warm grey sweater. She’s still explaining her rushed exit as her head pops through the floppy cowl neck. ‘The woman in charge of the psych unit is difficult; I don’t want her to change her mind. I’m really sorry.’
‘Stop apologising. It’s not a problem.’ Tom is almost as fascinated watching her dress as he was watching her un dress. ‘Do you think your colleagues have a camera on us?’
‘What?’
He peers up as though he’s searching for a lens hidden in the ceiling. ‘Only it seems that any time there’s a hint of romance between us, someone from the Carabinieri always rings.’
She laughs. ‘Don’t say that. We’re safe, I promise.’
‘If you like, I can grab the metro and meet you somewhere, when you know what time you’re finishing, and where you’re going to be.’
‘Could be an idea. I’ll call you. There’s food in the kitchen, but of course you know that from your shopping.’
‘Thanks. Have you got a computer, a laptop I can use?’
‘There’s a little Sony in a case in the lounge.’
‘Password?’
‘Electra.’
‘Elector?’
She chuckles. ‘No, Elec tra, as in the big Electra Glide that I’m going to one day treat myself to.’ Fully clothed, she now risks kissing him.
But only lightly.
Well, it starts lightly.
It’s meant to be just a peck, but it turns out to be more passionate. She pulls away and lets out an almost painful sigh.
Her thoughts about Tom – and that brief kiss – have a tingling and hypnotic effect that last throughout the drive from her home to the Policlinico.
Valentina only clears her head when she is inside the disinfectant-smelling hospital and approaching the psychiatric ward.
Federico is obediently waiting in reception, engrossed in a well-thumbed gossip magazine.
‘ Buongiorno,’ he says amiably, dropping the mag and standing, ‘Verdetti’s waiting for us.’
She skips the pleasantries as they walk to the doctor’s office. ‘Tell me, Federico, did you call Caesario, or did he call you?’
He lets out a dismissive humph. ‘He is my boss – he asked that he be kept in touch, so I did as he asked.’
A good answer, but she’s not letting him off that lightly. ‘No. He’s not your boss. I am. I’m your immediate boss and you report directly to me.’ She waits for a reaction. He should look a little ashamed, a little afraid because he’s being dressed down for undermining a senior officer, but he doesn’t. He should be eager to apologise, say he’s sorry and promise not to do it again, but he clearly isn’t going to.
They stop outside Verdetti’s office and Valentina lets off more steam again. ‘Lieutenant, we have ranks and reporting procedures for good reasons, so make sure they are respected and followed in future. If Major Caesario needs informing of something, then I’ll do it. You report only to me, unless instructed otherwise. Do we understand each other?’
He shrugs and makes to open the door.
Valentina grabs his wrist and stops him. ‘I asked you a question. Do you understand the order I just gave you?’
He looks at her tight grip on his arm and reacts for the first time. A flush of colour to his face. A twitch of his Adam’s apple as he swallows and tries to stay calm. ‘I understand.’
‘ Va bene.’ She lets go of his wrist and allows him to open the door.
19
We are below ground.
In the womb of the earth.
Mother’s womb.
When I am frightened down here, Mother comforts me. When I am filled with panic, She brings me special peace. It enters my lungs and calms me. Makes me see things differently.
And when She punishes me, I understand that it is for my own good .
I know that the pain I suffer is necessary.
Necessary to ensure so I keep the secret.
But I wish it would stop.
When I am fasting, the hunger gnaws inside my gut like a rat in the carcass of a cow, but that pain is nothing to the fires of humiliation that burn in my soul.
Mother says She will cure me. She will rid me of my anguish.
Whatever the price.
Whatever the pain and humiliation.
She says I should remember that it hurts Her more than it hurts me .
I will never forget.
She says that if I did better, if I earned Her trust, then She wouldn’t have to do these things to me. Wouldn’t need to teach me Her lessons.
I tell Her I am trying.
I am trying very hard to learn.
But then She laughs at me.
Not a nice laugh.
Not the laugh a mother should share with a daughter.
She stares into my eyes and tells me She has Her doubts.
Says She wonders if I am worth it.
Worth all the effort that She puts in.
I am frightened.
She puts Her face close to mine and She tells me that She knows what I’m doing.
Knows that I am letting ‘the others’ in.
She laughs again.
The not-very-nice laugh.
I try to look away, but She grabs my face and forces me to look at Her. She says that She knows about them and will find them and punish them as well.
She will trap them and make them all one.
Make them all Hers.
I tell Mother there are no others.
But She knows.
