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They all watched in stunned silence as Lawrenz hopped up on the low bastion wall, holding out his arms like some sort of conqueror. Facing the sea, he gave a roar of what could be victory, but could also be a drunken war cry, Valentina thought. He turned to address them. ‘Go back to your island, Englishman. This one is mine. Go back to your own wife, this one is mine,’ he said, pointing at Valentina. ‘Make your own son,’ he said, slurring slightly. ‘This excuse of a child is sadly mine, I’m told.’
Peter stepped closer. ‘I risked my life every day to give you this home, Lawrenz, so that you could live in peace, and raise your family. I think I’ve earned the right to be here. But you… you don’t deserve them.’
‘Oh, so you’re the hero, come back to gloat? To make some sort of claim?’ Lawrenz started weaving unsteadily back and forth along the wall, almost in a dance.
Valentina held her breath.
Peter shook his head. ‘No, I’ve come back simply to see Malta again, my old friends.’
‘To steal my wife, my family?’
‘No. But I care about Valentina, about Dan—’
‘Her name’s Leni!’
Peter shook his head. ‘Not for me, it isn’t. It’s always been Valentina and always will be. I’d like to say your son is a credit to you, but I don’t think you can take any credit for the fine lad he is. That’s all down to his mother, and thank the heavens he doesn’t seem to possess your genetic traits. Danjel is all Camilleri from what I see.’
Valentina watched her husband go very quiet, his arms dropping from his triumphant gesture to hang at his sides, each hand now balling into a fist. She knew what came next.
She ran to the wall, to plead with him to get down, but he was ready for her and swiped her away like a gnat. The force of the blow took both her feet from the ground and she landed painfully against the rock, bleeding from her knees and elbows.
Maria was at her side, as was Danjel in a heartbeat.
Lawrenz held out his arms again, pointing one finger in the air. ‘Don’t ever tell me what to do, woman. There’s more of that waiting for you.’
‘You will never lay a hand on Valentina again,’ Peter said, his voice so cold she had trouble realising it was him speaking.
She sat up. ‘Peter, please, don’t—’
‘Or what, Englishman?’ Lawrenz taunted. ‘See, even my wife thinks you’re stupid to take me on. You might feel heroic flying planes, but I can beat you to a pulp. I am a boxer.’
No one saw it coming.
‘And I am a footballer,’ Danjel said, running at speed towards his father, striking his father with a high kick to the legs at full pelt.
They all watched in horror as Lawrenz, already unsteady, doubled over in shock. His cry of pain was silent, his mouth gaping open, eyes widening and then filling with fresh fear, as he realised he’d shifted his balance.
Lawrenz’s arms cartwheeled once. Peter leaped towards the flailing man, but he was already falling away from him, eyes now bulging with the realisation that behind him was only air.
And then he was gone from sight.
Peter hung over the side to see Lawrenz’s body hit the rocky surface below, bouncing once, twice and then coming to rest in a bloodied heap.
Maria and Valentina were both screaming as they too raced up to look over the wall.
Finally, Danjel arrived behind them. His words chilled her. ‘
I told you I’d kill him if he ever hurt you again.’
TWENTY-NINE
An hour later, they were still at the scene; three shocked adults and one sullen boy with several members of the police.
Valentina realised she was staring numbly at the detritus of the picnic they had barely made a start on. All that lovely food gone to waste, she thought absently.
No one had said anything for a long time.
Peter had recovered first, hugging Danjel to him and telling him not to worry. He’d then gone to find help, yelling for someone to call the police. Maria had held both mother and son tightly, not speaking. No one really had anything to say, Valentina realised.
