At nine that evening, a guard came to the cell door and asked Diana not to change for bed because the supervisor was coming for a word.
‘Have you been complaining about anything?’ Donatella asked sharply. Guilt was written all over her face, and Diana guessed she thought it was about the theft of the gettoni.
‘No, I haven’t. Perhaps it’s about my request for us to get extra food. Trevor has paid the money.’
They waited in silence, sitting on their beds, until the supervisor appeared in the doorway. ‘Signora Bailey? Pack your things. You’re going home tomorrow morning.’
There was no preamble and Diana couldn’t absorb the words at first.
‘Lucky bitch!’ Donatella commented. ‘Can I come too?’
‘They’ve dropped the charges against you,’ the supervisor explained to Diana. ‘You’ll be released at eight in the morning.’
‘Are you sure?’ Diana asked. She didn’t want to get her hopes up for nothing. But the supervisor insisted it was true, then turned and left and they were locked in for the night. She stared after her, feeling stunned at the news.
‘Your fancy lawyer must have found a loophole in the law,’ Donatella speculated. ‘I don’t suppose you could ask him to look into my case now?’
But you’re guilty, Diana thought. ‘I’ll ask him,’ she said out loud.
‘You should sue the police for wrongful imprisonment. You deserve compensation for all the hardship you’ve had to endure, and the damage to your good name. Get the bastards to grovel.’
‘I don’t want any money. I’ll just be happy to be free.’
The witness’s story must have fallen apart. She wondered who it was? It didn’t matter now, but she’d like to know. She tried to decide what she would do when she was released, but beyond seeing Trevor and hearing what had happened, she couldn’t think. She would only have spent eight days in jail but it seemed like weeks. She’d already got used to the routine of meals being brought on trays, lights being switched off at the appointed time, and baths being taken when the guards took you to the bathroom. The only thing she hadn’t got used to was the boredom. Even with her books to read, each hour was interminable.
There was no chance of sleep that night. She listened to Donatella’s mumbling and wondered what everyone at Cinecittà would say about her ordeal. Would she be allowed to complete her work on the film? Would Ernesto still be there? Had Helen’s funeral been held yet and, if not, would she be able to go? And beyond that, she wondered what would happen to her and Trevor. There were no answers, only endless questions.
Breakfast was brought to them at seven and, as they ate, Donatella kept giving Diana odd, slightly aggressive looks.
‘You’ve got money, haven’t you? I mean, you’ve got a house back home and all that?’
‘We rent a flat in London. We’re not rich,’ Diana replied, wondering where this was heading.
‘Oh.’ There was a pause while they both ate. Still Donatella kept glancing across. ‘It’s just I’ve written a letter for my children and I wondered if you could see it gets there? You’d have to give it to my sister, because her husband would destroy it if he saw it first.’
‘Have you put the address on it?’ Diana asked. ‘Of course I’ll make sure it gets there.’ She glanced at it but didn’t recognise the area.
‘Could you give them some money as well?’ She gave Diana a defiant look. ‘After all, I’ve looked after you in here. You could have been in all kinds of bother without me.’
‘Yes, I’ll give them some money. I’ll give it to your sister and ask her to spend it on them.’
‘Tell her to get them new clothes, will you?’
‘I will.’
Donatella nodded but didn’t say thanks, and she just grunted her goodbyes when a warden came to collect Diana at seven-thirty. She’s jealous, poor thing. She’d give anything to be leaving this morning.
Diana was led down to reception. She hadn’t had a chance to wash or brush her teeth. She must look a fright, and God knows what she smelled like. There were various forms to sign then she sat on a bench watching as the minute hand jerked round on a clock face. She wasn’t to be released a second before eight o’clock: rules were rules. She wondered if Trevor knew she was being released. Would he be there to meet her? Or would she have to catch a bus back to Pensione Splendid? She had no idea what to expect.
At eight o’clock, there was no ceremony, no shaking of hands, no formal apology. A guard simply stood up, opened a large wooden door and gestured for Diana to walk through. Bright white sunshine blinded her after the gloom of the prison interior. The air smelled fresh and she could feel a breeze on her skin.
‘Diana!’ Trevor’s voice said, and his arms were round her, which was just as well because her knees felt wobbly. ‘I came by bus but I’ve got a taxi driver waiting to take us back. I thought that was better.’ He was gabbling. ‘Can I carry your bag?’
She handed it to him, so overcome with emotion she couldn’t speak. ‘Let’s go,’ he said. ‘No point hanging around.’
They held hands in the taxi and he explained to her what had happened and why she had been freed. She started to cry when he told her the wording of the note from Helen. If only the padrona hadn’t put her in a different room. That one simple thing had made all the difference between life and death.
She was alarmed to hear about Luigi threatening Ernesto and forcing the witness to testify against her. What if he was still looking for her?
‘I think we should fly home, darling,’ Trevor said. ‘We can’t take the risk of him coming after you. If we pack quickly, I expect we could even catch a flight to London this afternoon.’
She considered it for a brief moment, but knew instinctively it felt wrong. ‘No, I don’t want to leave Rome like that.’
‘What do you want to do?’
‘Truthfully? All I can think of right now is having a bath. And perhaps an espresso with a cornetto.’
Trevor squeezed her hand. ‘You have that bath. I’ll bring you an espresso and buy you as many cornetti as you can eat. If I could afford it, I’d buy you a cornetti factory. I’m so glad to see you, darling.’
He leant over and buried his face in her shoulder and she could tell from slight shaking movements that he was sobbing, but he didn’t make a sound.