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‘He’s with Carmel,’ he said, his youthful exasperation coming through. ‘He must know him.’

‘Even so,’ Valentina replied as if that was her last word on it.

‘Are you finished here?’

‘Yes, I’m pleased to have cleaned that one up with care. Look at how it shines.’ She stood back to admire her work.

‘And in a couple of days another three hundred and ninety-nine await you,’ Danjel said, with a cheeky grin.

She smiled. ‘I like doing it. I love this history, and I love this cathedral… it’s the world in which I like to be.’

‘I know. But could you ever leave it?’

She regarded him and frowned. ‘Why? Are you planning something?’

He grinned. ‘Yes! Always. I wish we could both fly away… today.’

‘I’m sorry your life isn’t⁠—’

‘No, Mama. If he wasn’t in it, my life would be perfect.’

‘You must leave as soon as you’re old enough.’

‘How old is old enough?’

Valentina looked upon her son with such sadness, it threatened to well up and spill from her eyes. ‘A few years more.’

Danjel shook his head, looking suddenly like a much older person. He was carrying the weight of too much sorrow and distress upon his shoulders… hers as much as his own. ‘I won’t go without you,’ he reinforced. ‘So that’s why I’m asking. Could you leave this behind?’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Because I carry it here.’ She put her hand over her heart and then touched her temple. ‘And in here.’ She remembered the identical gestures the man she loved had made a dozen years ago as he sat before her; the passion she had felt for that stranger and all he’d brought to her life had never left her.

‘Then let’s go. As soon as we can,’ Danjel said, interrupting her thoughts. ‘We could leave today while Papa is away.’

Although she and Danjel had spoken about a life without Lawrenz before, they’d never reached this far in their conversation, nor had Danjel ever broached the idea of leaving him for good until he was an adult, as she’d always planned. And until Robertu’s proposal about fleeing to Italy, she’d never allowed herself to believe she could leave too.

She shouldn’t have been surprised, especially given Danjel’s maturity; in many areas of his life, he was already thinking far beyond his peers with his curious, intelligent mind. She could remember being the same as a youngster and her intelligence had seemed to be more of a burden in her family than a gift. But it could make all the difference for Danjel, who’d had the good fortune to be born a son with a chance to get away from this place, to one day spread his wings and become a man, doing whatever it was he wanted. If he didn’t leave, he would be obliged through duty and coercion to work in the family bars and live the same life that the Falzon line always had.

She’d never wanted that for Danjel, but now she feared it. Lawrenz was obviously breaking the law in some way. She had been aware for a long time that his money could not all come from the sale of legal alcohol behind his family’s bars and Robertu’s comments had all but confirmed it. He was making money through other means, probably related to his trips to Marseille… that would be what was keeping him there for increasingly longer periods – and his mistress, if there was one. She could have him. Please, please keep him. Let him fall in love with you, she thought now, though she wondered if Lawrenz was even capable of that emotion. But lust, as long as it lasted, would be enough for Valentina, if it gave her the chance to escape him.

She liked to daydream about this, but she knew the society in which she lived and the religion that governed them meant the chance of Lawrenz divorcing her or allowing her to live separately was nil. She would have to focus her efforts on Danjel growing up strong and fast, feeding his will for independence like a fire so that one day he would earn the freedom she craved. He could go into the world and live for her. He might even follow her own aspirations into the world of art. She wouldn’t force it, but she encouraged it constantly.

For now though, she would play along with his hopes for escape; she didn’t want to see her naturally cheerful son becoming maudlin. At his age, she’d known only a bright state of mind, with life stretching ahead and boundless possibility.

‘Not this trip, but as soon as we can,’ she replied, mustering a smile for his benefit. ‘Come on. Let’s go and pack a picnic. We can take it down to the harbour.’

NINETEEN

The next morning, Valentina noticed that Danjel went off to school with a genuine spring in his step. She understood. She felt much the same way with Lawrenz’s absence; her heart was lighter than it had been for as far back as she could recall. It felt like a holiday, a reprieve, a healing time and she couldn’t quite stop the soft smile that wanted to break. Plus she was humming. Humming! She hadn’t done that since Danjel was a baby, when the sound was only for him.

The marble counter of the bar was shining. The first rush of customers had already been through. Now there were the older men who sat outside, smoked, argued, swapped stories and drank coffee but ate nothing. Inside was just one couple from the countryside. They were holding hands, probably recently married… maybe even on their honeymoon, having a few days in the big city. She smiled.

She wouldn’t have chosen here if she were in their position. The city was still being rebuilt, so there was dust and construction all around, but then she told herself that love didn’t hear noise; it didn’t see rubble or despair. Love heard only music and saw only sunshine and smelled only roses.

Love. She would like just one day of it, to experience it as an adult. One day of that sort of effervescence where her heart felt so full it might burst and she got to hold that person close, feel his skin, taste his lips.

But that wasn’t her path. She berated herself for allowing her mind to head off into the clouds as it had when she was a silly girl and believed she would marry her golden-headed knight, who would fight for her and love her to his last breath.

A customer pushed in through the door. ‘Morning, Carmel,’ she called, glancing up.