It was only the second time Cesca had ever been in the downstairs apartment, the first time being to collect the keys when she moved in. There was no doubt her rooms upstairs were superior – brighter, more open, and of course with access to the tiny roof terrace at the back – but the narrow steps weren’t going to become any easier for a woman of Signora Dutti’s age to navigate.
Cesca was sitting at the small, square, dark wood table, over which was draped a hand-worked lace cloth. A bowl of oranges sat in the middle beside a stubby red candle, the wax coagulating in beaded drips down the sides. Signora Dutti was hand-grinding the coffee beans, the rich aroma perfuming the dim room, as a light breeze drifted in through the open front door.
‘I saw Signor Cantarelli the other day,’ Cesca said, wishing she didn’t even have to say his name. She didn’t want to think about him. Not at all. Ever.
Signora Dutti glanced over. ‘Yes?’ she said in a meaningful tone, a knowing smile on her lips. ‘So did I. He has been here, looking for you. Last night and again this morning. I told him I did not know where you were.’
‘Oh.’ Cesca stalled, wondering why her landlady had such a crafty look on her face. ‘Well, I’ve been staying over with my friend, Alessandra.’
Signora Dutti nodded, but her eyes danced. ‘He was quite persistent. I had to show him your room was empty.’
Cesca suppressed a groan of annoyance that her landlady had yet again just opened up her home to seemingly casual passers-by. First Elena, now him?
‘He is a handsome man.’
‘Uh, is he? I hadn’t really—’
‘Should smile more, though.’ Signora Dutti pulled a stern face. ‘He is always so serious.’
Cesca, determined not to envisage him smiling, or glowering, or naked, tried to pull the conversation back to the reason she’d come here. ‘Yes, well, anyway . . . he, uh, he said one of the tunnels from the palazzo leads to this room.’
‘That is correct.’
‘Did you know about it, before?’
‘Of course!’
She blinked. So Freda Accardo had been familiar with them, and now Maria Dutti too. Had Elena been the only person who hadn’t known about them? ‘Had you been down there?’
‘Once, but not for a long time. They’re cold and dark. They went only into the palazzo, and what did I want to go in there for?’ She pulled a face, her mouth in a down-turned U.
‘Signora Dutti – did you ever work at the palazzo?’
The old lady stopped grinding the coffee beans. ‘Why do you ask that?’
‘Because—’ She swallowed, deciding to show her hand. ‘Because I think something terrible may have happened there. And I thought you might know something about it?’
There was a long silence as Signora Dutti turned away and bustled about the worktops, making the coffee and fishing out biscotti from a tin on a high shelf, which she could access only by standing on a footstool. But eventually she came back to the table. The coffees were short, dark and so thick Cesca thought she could probably stand a spoon in hers.
‘You were the housekeeper, weren’t you?’ Cesca prompted, wrapping her hand around the cup, even though it was another hot night. A minute ago, it had only been a hunch but she knew from the way the old lady was behaving that she had hit upon the truth. ‘I already know you were.’
Signora Dutti stared at her and then out through the door, towards the ice-blue facade of the building that had come to dominate all their lives. ‘It was all a long time ago now.’
What was? ‘Can I ask why you hate the Principessa so much?’
Signora Dutti’s eyes slid over to her. ‘Does she know you are here?’
‘No. She’s in Florence.’ She mentioned it casually, but in fact Elena’s flight to the renaissance city had come as a complete surprise; Elena had said nothing of her trip in their conversation on Monday and Alberto had told Cesca she wasn’t expected back until Friday evening.
‘But does she know you are talking to me?’
‘No. And I don’t want her to.’ Cesca bit her lip. ‘But I’ve read some things which don’t make sense and I already know she’s been lying to me. It’s about her brother-in—’
‘Aurelio!’ Signora Dutti’s lips flattened into a grim line. ‘She is a wicked woman!’ she said forcefully. ‘She is the very devil!’
‘That’s exactly what Signora Accardo said. Why do you think that?’ Cesca pushed.
‘What other word is there for a woman who destroys a family, especially one as noble as the Damianis?’
‘How did she destroy them?’ Cesca probed – but even as she asked the question, the answer suddenly came to her. They were identical twins. He had a dangerous glamour. How could Elena – the former party girl trying to reinvent herself as a princess of the Nobiltà nera – have resisted him? ‘Oh God.’ Her hands flew to her mouth as she realized; it was so obvious. ‘Elena had an affair with Vito’s brother.’
‘She turned them against one another, brothers who shared one blood, one shadow. They could never be separated until she came along.’ Signora Dutti’s voice was almost a rasp, such was her anger.
‘Do you know this for certain?’
Signora Dutti straightened up, her back ramrod straight. ‘I saw it with my own eyes.’
Cesca felt every fibre in her body tense. A witness? ‘Please. Tell me what happened. It’s really important.’
Signora Dutti’s fingers drummed the table in consideration and there was a long silence before she finally spoke. ‘This building still belonged to the family back then,’ she said eventually. ‘Many in the square still do. Originally, this used to be a stable and the bedroom upstairs – in what is now your apartment – was for visitors’ grooms. There was a staircase in that corner there,’ she said, pointing to where a small, red-painted housekeeper’s cupboard now sat. ‘But it had not been used as a stable for many years. Instead, after the war, it was well known that the old Visconte would use the tunnels to meet his mistresses here.’
‘Okay.’ Cesca tried to keep the shock from her expression. ‘Go on.’
‘As children, the twins would play in them all the time. They knew them inside out. They would always be disappearing down them when it was time for their bath or their schoolwork. So perhaps it was no surprise they chose to meet up here.’
Cesca was half a beat behind. ‘Elena and Aurelio, you mean?’
A look of disgust deepened the lines on the old lady’s face. ‘Aurelio would have known they would be safe here. No one would see them coming or going – they did not need to worry about the staff walking in on them; nor the Visconte.’
‘But you saw them?’
Signora Dutti’s expression hardened. ‘I would like to come here to sit sometimes during my time off. I lived in the palazzo, of course, but it can be – how you say?’ She made a compressing action around her head.
‘Claustrophobic?’
Signora Dutti shrugged. ‘You might be wondering how such a big building can feel so little. But it did. Sometimes I felt the walls had eyes.’ She gave a shudder.
Cesca could imagine it only too well. She felt exactly the same herself.
‘So I would come here to do the reading, or if I was very tired, some sleeping. I could be sure that no one would disturb me here.’
‘So that’s what you were doing, when . . . ?’ Cesca prompted, hardly able to hold back. She had a sense now of how this was all going to hang together.
‘I was reading when suddenly the door there opened.’ She smacked the access hole in the ground with her foot, clapping a hand over her chest, remembering the fright. ‘It was the Visconte. He was . . . he was wild! I had never seen him in such a state before. He was frantic. A crazy man.’
‘Why? What had happened?’
‘It was what he thought was happening. No – what he knew! He kept asking, “Where are they? Where are they?” I did not know of who he was talking. Then he ran straight for the stairs.’ She pointed to the corner where they no longer stood, her eyes no longer seeing the present but sunk back into the past. Into that night. ‘He broke open the door. And then I heard a scream. Shouts.’ Her fingers worried at the edge of the lace cloth. ‘I ran up after him. I did not even know there was anyone up there.’
‘Maybe they had heard you?’
She shrugged. ‘Perhaps. They were standing there, together. And Aurelio, he—’ She shook her head. ‘It was terrible. They began to fight, Vito swinging at his brother, Aurelio pleading with him. The Viscontessa could not stop screaming. I tried to stop them and Vito catched me with his fist. It was an accident – he did not mean to.’ She shook her head sadly. ‘He was such a good man, he cried. Then he apologized to me and left. Aurelio ran after him – and I never saw him again.’
‘What happened?’
‘Vito drove away. Aurelio tried to catch up with him, but there was a car crash.’
Cesca swallowed, disappointed that her witness had bowed out at this point in the story. She already knew the rest – that the crash hadn’t been what had killed Aurelio, in spite of what the headlines had said. Something more must have happened – Signora Dutti’s account proved it was no mere accident but a crime of passion; there was a motive now, but still no witnesses at the crucial moment . . . Had they continued the fight outside, after the crash . . . ?
‘Aurelio was killed.’ Signora Dutti sighed, the sound so heavy and weary, it was as though her life force itself was leaving her body. ‘And it was all her fault. She is responsible and she knows it. Why else would she do what she did? It was the behaviour of a guilty woman.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Immediately afterwards, she had the tunnel bricked up. She gave me money and this—’ Signora Dutti held her hands up in the air, indicating the little building ‘—if I would not speak of what I saw that night.’
‘So she bribed you.’
‘I suppose that is the word. What else could I do but accept? If I spoke of what I had seen, it would have brought disgrace on the family – they would have been ruined – and I could not do that to the Visconte. I took the money, but I would not step foot in that building again; I would not work for her. She disgusted me.’
‘Does anyone else know about this?’
Signora Dutti crossed her arms and pursed her lips together.
‘Signora Accardo, I’m guessing?’ Cesca pressed.
‘Of course. She is my oldest friend. It was no surprise to her. She knew about the tunnels too. She knew what used to go on.’
Cesca nodded. The twins had been cleaved apart, destroyed by their love for the same woman. What their mother always said about them had been wrong: they had been one face, one heart, after all.