Chapter Four

PRESENT

Ten minutes after the awkward family dinner with the Bertone clan, I throw myself onto the bed in my room, and stare at the ceiling for a while. I try to settle my agitated thoughts and somehow restore my peace after the madness going on since morning. Everything happened so fast that my head is buzzing and I’m shaking inside. I think the shock is only registering with me now: someone tried to murder me today. I was close to being killed.

The sight of my old room recalls a mix of lovely and painful memories. When, after my parents’ death, I was brought here as a confused orphan, I went through the toughest time of my life. Even though my aunt and the others did all they could to make it easier for me, even they couldn’t change the fact that I could never see my parents again. It took me years to more or less get over the trauma. Then, as I started university, I had some new traumas, which to some extent shadowed the previous ones. I chased this period of my life to the very bottom of my consciousness with much self-discipline, and the aching memories only surface occasionally, in the night, in my unconscious dreams. Thanks to my new goals, the new life I’ve built around myself, and my new love, these things only occur rarely. My new life – I sigh with pain – which has just crumbled to nothing.

My eyes find the photo of my parents hanging on the wall, and a sharp pain pierces through my heart. Even now, after such a long time I still long for my mother’s warmth and my father’s merry laughter. But no matter how hard I fight, their memory is fading as time goes by. Their faces, thanks to the photos, live on in my memories, but it’s harder and harder for me to recall Mum’s voice, the scent of her skin, the sensation of my dad stroking me. I’m lonely and deeply sad. I know my uncle wouldn’t be happy if he knew that in the present situation I’m contacting the outside world, yet, I take a risk. I need to talk to someone who’s not a part of the madness that surrounds me. Someone outside the mafia world. I need some normality, the feeling that my common sense is not leaving me. I want to ring Johnny just to hear his voice. So that I won’t feel so damned lonely.

I get up from the bed and start searching for my mobile when there’s a knock to the door.

“Yes.”

The door opens, and Claire sticks her head in.

“May I enter?” she asks with a little smile.

“Of course, come in, Aunt Claire,” I respond, trying to pull a smile myself. “What’s up?”

She carefully closes the door behind her, and, fidgeting with her cuffs, she takes a few steps in the room. Finally, she steps up to me, takes my hand, and pulls me to the far side of the bed, so that we can both sit.

“I know it must be really hard for you now,” she says gloomily.

My face jerks, but I remain quiet. What could I answer, anyway?

“Your uncle and the boys,” she nods in the direction of the door, “they only mean well. You know them. They often express it the wrong way, but the truth is, they’re scared for you.”

“I know, Auntie.”

“Emilio would rather die than to confess that he’s terrified of the thought of losing you. Lately we’ve all calmed down a bit and hoped to leave the whole issue behind,” she rolls her eyes, and I know she’s referring to all the hassle of the past thirteen years. “He’ll do anything to protect you from this madness.” She turns towards me with her whole body, and taking my hand, continues with serenity. “Raven, I beg you, don’t object to him. Please, just do as he says. Believe me, your uncle knows what he’s doing. We don’t want to lose you. It just can’t happen. Please, just do whatever it is he’s asking you.”

I nod, and with a bitter smile on my face, give Claire’s hand a squeeze.

“I don’t intend to disobey, Aunty. I will do what Uncle Emilio wants,” I say tiredly. What choice do I have if I want to live until my next birthday? – I add in thought.

“All right, dear. The boys will arrange it all, you will see.”

I don’t want to ask what she means by that, as I know fine well. More killing, more revenge, more blood. A perfect downward spiral with no way out of it. But why I am the exact target of this mad revenge crusade, I will never understand. My eyes wander once more to the photo on the wall, and I speak up with a sigh.

“I want to ask something, Aunty.”

“Go ahead, sweetie.”

“My dad… why… what was the reason he wanted to get out of it all?”

My question visibly surprises Claire. For a while she doesn’t even answer, just scratches her temple, deep in thought. I very rarely talk about my parents, and I stopped asking questions about them many years ago. This is like an unspoken consensus between us, to leave the topic, because to recall he incidents would be too painful. After this day, though, I feel like the old wounds have been torn open, and I must discuss them or I will explode.

“Because, he did want to get out, right?” I pursue, when my aunt has been absorbed in her thoughts quite long.

“Yes, love. He did,” she nods finally, with a little smile on her face. “Your father… how should I put it… was made of different stuff than your uncle. He wasn’t a born… businessman like Emilio,” she says uncertainly, and I just can’t help smiling at that. It’s quite sweet that she expresses herself in such a roundabout way, and uses the word businessman instead of a mafioso. “I’ve always had the feeling he only got involved with it all due to his family, but he really wanted to walk his own path. It’s very hard to break the cords that tie you to the organization. The family’s direct support is still a great thing, especially when someone like your father was born into it all, and never knew anything else.”

“Did he want to start a new life because of my mum?”

“Your mum and you,” she sighs with a nostalgic smile on her face. “Jane couldn’t take stress well. Don’t get me wrong, I never heard her complain out loud, but one could see that she wasn’t happy. Theirs was a big love story, she would never have left your father, but the constant worrying was making her sick. She thought she had known what she was getting into, marrying a Bertone boy, but I think she underestimated it. Then the last incident…” she pulls a face, and I also become more animated.

“What incident?”

Claire clears her throat and gets up from the bed. She begins to walk around in an agitated manner.

“What incident are you talking about? Please, Claire! I want to know. I’m not a child anymore.”

My aunt gives me a painful look, and shakes her head with resignation.

“All I know is that he and Enrico were delivering some goods to the DeVito brothers, but things didn’t work out as planned. The relationship with them had always been pretty tense, and I remember Matteo being against working with them from the beginning.” I hang my head and chew on the corner of my lips with frustration. I’m well aware that the goods in question which were so very important to my dad and Enrico at the time were definitely weapons, or drugs, in a worse scenario. “I think there was also some personal power struggle in it too, but I wasn’t involved in that,” says Claire, shrugging her shoulders, and she walks over to the window. “Anyhow, things got out of control at the delivery, and it culminated in a shooting.”

“God,” I lift my hand to my mouth.

“Oh, sweetie. You can be sure this wasn’t the only case like that, but this was the first one where your father… I mean, Matteo shot someone.”

“What?”

“It was self-defence,” she continues quickly, seeing my astonishment. “Enrico was with him, and he swears he had no other choice. He said if Matteo hadn’t done it, he would have ended up dead instead. He had no other choice.” – We always have a choice – the aching thought crosses my mind, but I don’t say it out loud. “Anyway, Matteo was no longer himself after that. He couldn’t get over the issue, and that gave him the final push to get out of the business and turn his back on his brother too.”

“Did they fall out?” I ask dizzily.

“No dear, they didn’t,” she sits down next to me, putting a hand on my shoulder. “There was no fight, although Emilio had a really hard time about it. I think he also realized that Matteo didn’t really fit into the group. They parted in peace.”

“He wanted to start a new life,” I mumble to myself.

“Not only wanted to, he did it. At least he did all he could, but with his history it wasn’t easy. Many didn’t understand him, or simply didn’t want to take his decision seriously. Then, as soon as he was first threatened by the DeVito clan, he packed you and your mother, and moved away from the estate. He wanted to cut every cord that tied him to the Bertones.”

“The man he killed…” I look at Claire with uncertainty.

“Peppe DeVito. The old DeVito’s younger son. The more decent one of the two, as I heard. It’s a sad thing. He was hardly twenty,” she nods pensively.

“And the older one?”

She looks at me painfully and shakes her head.

“I’m not sure this is a good idea, Raven.”

“He killed my father, right?”

Claire nods submissively.

“Michèle DeVito. Even his father couldn’t control him. He was a stubborn, untamed, bad-tempered guy. And your dad was careless. He should have known what danger he was in. But Emilio begged him in vain, he wasn’t willing to be escorted by body guards. Possibly, though, even that couldn’t have helped,” she adds with resignation.

“I remember his face,” I mumble.

“Whose face?”

“Michèle DeVito’s. He had been to our place. I saw him argue with dad.”

“I’m sorry, dear.”

“This is why I had to come back from England at the time, right? To be a witness against him.”

“If there had been any other choice, your uncle would have opted for that, dear. But unfortunately, there wasn’t. And that bastard had to be put behind bars.”

“But Michèle died in prison. Sandro just told me.”

“That’s right. After the verdict, the DeVitos completely disappeared from the horizon. The old man died, and I don’t know what happened to the others. We no longer heard from them. Not until… until now.”

I get up and walk over to the photo. I run my finger over my dad’s smiling face. A teardrop rolls down my cheek.

“My father killed someone,” I say with a monotonous voice. “Then he was killed. Then someone killed his attacker, and now they want to finish me off. This will never end.”

Claire steps up to my back and turns me around to face her. She pulls my head onto her shoulder, and begins to stroke my hair as if I was still a little girl. She gently rocks me in her arms, trying to comfort me.

“It will be over. It has to be. Your life will be different, Raven.”