Unmasking Elena Montella (5 page)

Mark was buzzed in and he legged it up the stairs to his friend’s flat.

‘
Come on through,’ Barney said, ushering him in.

Trying not to trip over the drum kit in the hallway, Mark asked, ‘How’s it going, Barney?’

‘
You know what it’s like, man,’ he said, his pale legs sticking out of a holey housecoat. ‘Do you want a cup of tea, man?’

Mark shook his head. Barney’s cups were a regular penicillin culture. ‘No, thanks. I can’t stop long. I’ve actually come to ask a favour.’

‘
You have? Well, anything to help - ask away.’

‘
It’s about that three hundred pounds.’

‘
Shit, man! Do he still owe you that money?’

‘
Yes.’

‘
God! I’m sorry.’

‘
So, you’ve got it then?’

‘
Er - no!’

‘
Barney - I really need that money.’

Barney ran a hand through his lanky hair and sighed, shaking his head and looking around his living room as if the money might magically appear from somewhere. ‘I don’t know what to say, man. I don’t have it. If I did, it would be yours - right now - I promise you. But it ain’t that simple.’

Mark could feel one of Barney’s protracted stories about to materialise. ‘It’s been seven months,’ he began.

‘
I know, man, but things are difficult. In fact, you couldn’t have picked a worse time,’ he said, falling backwards onto the sofa. ‘Linda’s going to have a baby.’

‘
What?’

Barney nodded. ‘It’s due in July.’

‘
Shit!’

‘
There’ll be plenty of that,’ he joked but his face was grim.

‘
What are you going to do?’

‘
I don’t know. I’ve been applying for jobs.’

‘
What -
regular
jobs?’

‘
Yeah.’

For a moment, Mark tried to picture Barney Malone wearing a suit and working in an office but it was absurd. ‘What about the band?’

He shook his head. ‘It’s dead, man.’

It was Mark’s turn to shake his head. If he were perfectly honest, he’d never really expected
No Name
to reach the top of the charts but it would be sad if it were just to die out. It was Barney’s life-force. Mark had never known him talk about anything else since they’d met at high school.

‘
Then you haven’t got the money?’ he said, aware that his voice was an ugly mix of despair and blame.

‘
What did you want it for, man? Was it something important?’

Mark nodded. ‘You could say that. I need to get to Venice to see Elena.’

‘
Elena?’

‘
My fiancé.’

‘
Wow, man! You’re engaged? That’s like – mega!’

Mark couldn’t help smiling at his enthusiasm.

‘
This is serious, then?’

‘
Yeah. I’m worried about her. I don’t know – I’ve just got a bad feeling. I know I have to see her straightaway and that bloody skint Finn at the school hasn’t paid me yet this month. And I still owe my credit card for that hideously expensive diamond I bought Elena. I’m stony broke.’

Barney shook his head, managing to look an even whiter shade of pale than normal.

‘
Here!’ he said suddenly. ‘I feel real bad about owing you, man. Have you got a mobile?’

Mark reached into his pocket and handed it to him wondering why he didn’t use the phone on the table next to him.

‘
Got cut off last week,’ he said as if following Mark’s train of thought. ‘Hello? Linda, it’s Barney. I’ve got Mark here with me. Yeah. I know I do. That’s why I’m ringing you. Listen, babe, I want you to lend me that three hundred quid. I’ll pay you back - I’ve got an interview next week and the job’s practically in the bag.’

Mark stood up and walked across to the window.

‘
Okay,’ Barney said a few seconds later. ‘That’s sorted. She’ll meet you by the cash point on the corner in ten minutes.’

‘
Yeah? Are you sure that’s okay?’

Barney smiled. ‘Hey, man - it’s your cash and we’re grateful for you helping us out.’

Mark grinned at him. He felt just terrible about hassling Barney at a time when he was down on his luck but what could he do? He needed that money. His future, he thought, might very well depend on it.

Rosanna was not sure whether she’d got through to Elena that first night but they went to bed in good spirits and she was happy to leave things like that. She knew she could be a bit bossy sometimes but it only came from caring deeply about her sister. She wanted Elena to be happy, of course but, most of all, she wanted her to be safe. If Mama was around, she’d be reeling in horror. She’d never approved of Elena’s conduct with the opposite sex and would quiz her at every opportunity.

‘
No supper until you tell me who you’ve been with!’ Mama would yell from her permanent position in the kitchen, waving a wooden spoon like a gladiatorial weapon.

Looking back, she couldn’t really blame Mama. Having a daughter like Elena must have been a nightmare. The telephone would never stop and they’d seriously considered installing one of those rotating doors to ease the flow of all the boys who came and went.

It had been strange sharing a bed with her sister again especially a bed that was so intimate. Sandro had said she could use it but she couldn’t help feeling a little bit strange about sleeping in his bed. Elena had been too tired to stay awake talking long into the night like Rosanna had hoped they would, but there was time enough for that, she reasoned. She’d listened to her light breathing and had felt the warmth of her skin through the white sheet that covered her. She’d smelt of primrose soap.

She looked at Elena in the darkness and wondered what secrets she was hiding from her this time. It wasn’t something as trivial as wanting to catch up on sisterly gossip. Nor was it of catastrophic proportions as before - of that much, she was sure.

Rosanna often wondered if she thought of that time so many years ago. They never talked about it now but she knew Elena still felt it keenly. Rosanna would often see the old pain fleeting in her sister’s glance or turning a smile downwards as quickly as a cloud swallowing up the sun. It was a grim truth that the past never left. Every moment of every life was only a memory away and, although the pain might be buried deep, nobody knew when it would surface again.

Rosanna stroked the dark hair which spilled out over the white pillow next to hers. Her dearest Elena. She’d come home to her and she wouldn’t let her down.

Her little, big sister.

Elena woke up to an apartment filled with spring sunshine. Rosanna was already up and she could hear her bustling around the kitchen. She’d certainly settled into the place and who could blame her? It was incredible. Elena could get used to it herself. Maybe she wouldn’t want to go back to cold, grey London at all. Maybe she could find herself a little place in Venice and start again. But, even as the thought crossed her mind, she knew that that was the coward’s way out of the situation. She also knew that she’d been there before. She didn’t openly admit it to many people but there had been a few times in her life when, instead of facing a situation, she’d turned and run away from it.

It had been the same that summer. She hadn’t wanted to face the truth and so she’d ran and, if she was absolutely honest with herself, she was still running. She’d even dreamt about it last night. She would have thought that sharing a bed with her little sister would have made her feel safe and, after a day of travel, she should have slept soundly, but the past had hunted her down, locking her in a silent nightmare from which she hadn’t been able to escape.

It didn’t happen very often - not anymore but, when it did, she was left feeling as if all the stuffing had been knocked out of her and there was only one thing that could get her back on her feet again.

‘
Coffee!
’

Rosanna’s voice cut through the fog of her brain with welcome relief. It was funny how that one word could act as a cure-all. A bad morning’s teaching, a weary journey or dreams that had assaulted the very core of your heart could all be banished by a cup of good, strong Italian coffee.

Elena pulled on her dressing gown and treaded softly down the wooden steps before padding across the stone floor to the kitchen.

‘
Did you sleep well?’ Rosanna asked, setting the table for breakfast. ‘I didn’t want to wake you up - you looked so peaceful.’

Elena nodded. What was the point in upsetting her? What was the point in saying that she wished to God she
had
woken her up and rescued her from the shadows of her past.

‘
I slept like a baby,’ she said, pulling out a chair and sitting down.

‘
I’ve never slept so well as I do here,’ Rosanna said, taking a sip of coffee. ‘It’s so peaceful. And that bed - it’s like falling asleep on a big white cloud.’

‘
Not like your place in Mestre, then!’

‘
I never want to go back there again,’ Rosanna sighed, sitting at the dining table. ‘It was like trying to get to sleep in the middle of a Hieronymus Bosch painting.’

‘
But Sandro won’t be away forever, will he?’ Elena asked, forgetting her own problems and focussing on those of Rosanna. ‘So, do you plan on marrying him so you can stay here?’

‘
Don’t be silly,’ she protested. ‘I’m not in love with him!’

Elena laughed at her. She was so unlike her. There were so many reasons to fall in love with a man, she had found: he might have a kind smile or beautiful hands; a warm heart or sensitivity. But he might also have a very nice apartment on the right side of town and that, to her, certainly shouldn’t be discounted just because his smile might not be quite as winsome as you wished. But Rosanna was of the opinion that ‘the one’ had to have all these things and, in Elena’s experience, that just didn’t happen. Take Mark, for example. Out of Elena’s three fiancés, he was the best suited to her in terms of personality: he knew what she was thinking - some of the time - and he gave her the space she needed but, on the negative side, he hadn’t got two pennies to rub together. Prof, however, had a beautiful three-storey Victorian house in a leafy street in Ealing, several healthy bank accounts, and took three holidays a year, but he wasn’t on quite the same plane as her and she often saw the disappointment in his eyes when he recalled a television programme from his youth and she had to admit that she had no idea what he was going on about. Ruben was rather a mix. Emotionally, they were very similar: they liked their own space and wouldn’t pry into each other’s private lives. He was generous, attentive when she needed him to be but, on the negative side, he could be extremely volatile.

Elena wondered what Sandro Constantini, Rosanna’s artist and owner of this apartment was like and if she really couldn’t make some sort of compromise on the love front in order to move in permanently.

‘
That reminds me,’ she said, ‘how’s Corrado?’

Elena flinched at the force with which Rosanna tore open her bread roll at the mention of Corrado’s name.

‘
He’s fine,’ she said, her tone of voice instantly informing her that she was
far
from fine.

‘
Still living with his mother?’

Rosanna nodded, her dark eyes narrowing into angry slits. ‘I don’t know why I put up with it! It’s like the umbilical cord was never cut!’

‘
Then why
do
you put up with it?’ Elena asked, glancing around the massive studio again and knowing exactly what she’d do if she were in her position.

Rosanna pouted in exasperation which left Elena feeling frustrated. If she’d been Rosanna, Corrado would have been left in a cloud of dust about a year ago, together with his tyrant of a mother.

‘
Anyway,’ Rosanna began, ‘what would you like to do today?’

Elena took a sip of coffee. ‘I’m not sure,’ she said, although she knew she was desperate to get out and get some fresh air. ‘Do you need any shopping?’ she volunteered.

‘
You can run an errand for me if you want,’ Rosanna said, walking to the far side of the room where she bent down and picked up a canvas. ‘This is ready to deliver,’ she said. ‘It’s an address in Dorsoduro. It’s been paid for so you only have to drop it off. I’ll wrap it up first.’