hearted, but soft-centred where the others are hard.
'You could explain it away as coming from Sophia's side. The Rossis are a funny lot; her father was a lapsed Catholic, a real outcast, apparently.
Only you can't, because it's not just the women that are mixed up. I mean, God rest poor Beppe's soul, but where the hel did he come from?
'I never knew Papa Viareggio; he was dead years before I met Viola.
But from everything I've heard he was some man. Yet he and Nana managed to produce Beppe as well as Christina. I mean, he wasn't a bad man, and he didn't squander the family fortunes; but he was weak and if he hadn't had Paula and me and Aunt Christina around him, he might have. As it was, that business with the franchising, when he cancel ed it after his father died, that was a fiasco.
'It's funny; isn't it,' Stan mused, unknowingly giving voice to Maggie's own thoughts. 'The Viareggio clan's a real matriarchy, and yet it's set up so that ultimately there's always a man in control. It's a real Italian thing, isn't it. There was Papa, then there was Beppe and now there's Mario, who's a throwback to his old grandfather, so they say.'
He grinned at Maggie, his eyes distorted by the thick lenses of his spectacles. 'Genetics, eh; a load of crap.'
She smiled with him, looking over at her husband, who was instal ing Ryan and David in front of the television set, in the far corner of the living room. 'What about you, Stan?' she asked him. 'Do you see yourself as part of the family, or stil as an outsider, as I do for all that Mario's done to make me feel like one of them?'
'I'm a wage slave, pure and simple,' he answered at once. 'I don't know if I'd even be that, if Nana hadn't insisted on it. Okay, I've got my chartered surveying practice, and the Viareggio Trust is my most important long- term client, but that's it. More than that, when I'm ready to chuck it, that's al my boys wil have… assuming that they're interested in coming into my business. The way that Ryan talks about his Uncle Mario and his Aunt Maggie, I think he's halfway to being a detective already.
'I resent that a bit, I have to confess. Not about him being a policeman,' he added quickly, 'but I resent the fact that the way the old man's inheritance was set up, my lads will miss out. Who are the beneficiaries of the Trust? Nana, Christina, Beppe and Sophia and their children; there's no right of succession after that. For all that he was a very clever and successful man, old Papa didn't, or couldn't, think more than two generations ahead.'
'I see what you mean,' Maggie conceded, 'but it would have been very difficult for him to do more. As I see it, he trusted Beppe, overseen by Christina, to carry the business on for a bit, until Mario and Paula were ready to take over. They were his real heirs, those two; and you're right, the Italian in him made sure that there would be a man in overall control.
'They're the future of the business, those two, and there are no restrictions on them, other than looking after Nana and Aunt Josefina.
They can consolidate, they can expand, or if they choose they can liquidate, sell the bloody lot and distribute the proceeds. I'll promise you this though, Stan. Whatever happens, Mario wil take his nephews' interests into account, and I'm sure Paula will go along with that too.
41
She has no kids yet, and neither do we… nor will we, unless we adopt… so your boys could have quite a rosy future.'
'That's good to know; thanks. Mind you that assumes that any of us have a future. I saw the Sunday Mail front page today. What is this Mafia stuff, Maggie? I know that Uncle Beppe used to joke about it all the time, but should we take it seriously?'
'No more than Beppe used to take it himself; it was always a joke with him, even if it did wear thin from time to time. There is no organised crime in Edinburgh, not any more. We final y broke that a couple of years ago, when the last of the big drugs barons got sent down for most of the rest of his life. Even when it did exist, it wasn't Italian.'
'What if this came from outside Edinburgh? The deli side of the business has all sorts of Italian suppliers.'
'No it doesn't. We went over this with Paula last night. The deli suppliers are all wholesalers, and most of them are public companies, or part of public groups. The business deals with them and nobody else; it doesn't pay off middlemen and it never has. There are no supply problems just now, and no arguments with anyone over prices. Like most businesses, the biggest threat comes from the VAT man.'
'So who kil ed old Beppe then, if it wasn't gangsters?'
'We'd have told you if we knew. Now stop fantasising; off you go and watch the game with the rest of the boys.' She glanced at the women gathered around the table. 'I've got to stop Nana from pouring any more Chianti into your wife. God knows how it'l mix with the sedatives.'
As it transpired, the combination proved as effective as any sleeping pill. Viola was put to bed by her mother and slept solidly until seven thirty, when Stan decreed that the boys had to go home. The others decided to leave at the same time, Sophia and Christina going back to Murrayfield with Nana, and Paula, her courage restored, returning to her warehouse apartment in Leith, uttering threats against the person of any journalist who might be lying in wait for her.
As soon as they had gone, Mario began to clear away the debris left over from the extended lunch. He had just loaded the last of the crockery into the dishwasher, and selected a programme, when he noticed, through the open kitchen door, that his wife was seated at the dining table, making her way through a stack of papers.
'What the hell's that?' he called to her, as he strolled back towards her.
'Stuff I brought home from the office yesterday. It's the first chance I've had to look at it.'
'Bloody hell,' he laughed. 'You're not turning into Manny English, are you?'
'Hardly; it's just that I feel that while I'm filling his shoes, I should try to do things his way.'
'Like spending every weekend shovelling shit?'
'No,' she said, severely. 'Not every weekend; only those when I find myself giving short-notice lunch parties for your family.'
'We won't make a habit of it, I promise. Anyway, I don't have any more uncles.'
Maggie winced. 'Sorry; that was a bit crass. I was glad to do it, honestly, and I think it did everyone a bit of good… apart from Viola, that is. Nana fed the best part of a bottle of Chianti into her before I could stop her.'
'Stan could have stopped her before you did,' Mario pointed out, 'but he wasn't bothered.'
'True. I don't think it's his style though. He loves his boys, but I get the impression that he and Viola aren't al that happy together.'
'They're fine. You're not seeing either of them at their best, that's al.
Anyway, a couple of drinks and a few hours' sleep were exactly what she was needing. Trust Nana to spot it, too.'
'Oh yes, trust her.' She paused. 'Paula seems to have got herself together.'
'Aye, she's fine. I've asked Jay to keep an eye on her place, but she doesn't need to know that.'
'You don't real y think she's in any danger, do you?'
'No, but I know a bloke that won the Lottery last year. You can never be quite certain.'
He saw her frown. 'Who did it, Mario? Who could have?'
'I don't know, but… My Uncle Beppe always had an eye for the ladies. It's got him into bother more than once. I just wonder…' He paused, as his eye was caught by a sheet of paper on the table. 'Here, what's that?'
She handed it to him. 'It's the missing person poster on my dear father.'
'Oh shit,' he muttered. 'Sorry, I forgot to mention something. He's grown a beard since this was taken. This isn't a current likeness.' He laid the flyer on the table, picked up a pen, darkened the jaw and top lip on the monochrome photograph and handed it back to her.
Maggie gazed at it. 'He's still an evil-looking bastard. I'l have a revision issued though.' She laid it on top of her 'out' pile, then hesitated.
