Page 13 of The Girl from Sicily

13

JESSICA, JUNE 2005

It took Jess an age to scoop the ants and jam into a rubbish bag and dump everything in the bin outside. She rinsed the jar and put it away. After a cheese salad for her supper, she took a shower and headed for bed.

She lay stretched out on the mattress, but sleep eluded her. What an amazing day she’d had. Villaurora wasn’t as remote as she’d first thought. The road to Agrigento was better than expected, and the town itself appeared to have all the necessary facilities, including supermarkets where she could head for a weekly shop – if she kept the baglio. But how would she solve the mystery of why her grandmother had left it to her? All her enquiries had hit a dead end.

Her thoughts turned to Piero. His revelation about still loving his ex-wife made Jess’s heart ache with sympathy. She couldn’t imagine feeling that way about Scott. Although she’d loved him for years, through thick and thin, his unfaithfulness had been like a bucket of water thrown on a fire; it hadn’t taken long to extinguish all the love she’d once had for him.

It was far too soon to be thinking about embarking on another relationship. Now she knew there was no hope of a holiday fling with Piero, she would focus on the reason for coming to Sicily. Tomorrow she’d make her way to Villaurora and try to find some clues.

* * *

In the morning, Jess put dirty laundry in the washing machine, made some coffee and toast, and read her novel while she waited for the cycle to end. It would be too much of a rush to go to the baglio and then do food shopping in the village – she’d found out that the grocery store shut from half past twelve to four – so she decided to chill and stay in the winery until late afternoon.

She hung out her washing on the portico, then got ready to head for the pool. After swimming leisurely lengths for about thirty minutes, she moved a sunbed into the shade and retrieved her book, sunscreen and a bottle of water from her tote bag. Sunglasses settled onto her nose, and factor 30 rubbed wherever she could reach, she lost herself in her book until the sound of Cappero’s panting filled the air.

‘Hello, you,’ she said, reaching down to stroke the overheated dog. ‘What have you been up to this morning?’

‘He’s been with me in the vineyard.’ Piero’s voice came from behind.

‘ Ciao .’ Jess gave him a smile. ‘Hope you both had fun.’

‘We’ve been checking the roses at the ends of the rows of vines.’ Piero dragged a lounger into the space next to hers and sat himself down.

‘I’ve been wondering why there are rose bushes in the middle of your vineyard.’ Jess always marvelled at the iconic plants with their beautiful blooms each time she drove past them.

‘They’re delicate shrubs, and act as a thermometer to tell us if the vines have caught a “fever”.’ He made quote marks with his fingers.

‘I don’t understand,’ she said.

‘If there’s a fungal disease in the vicinity, the rose will catch it before the vine does. It gives us time to intervene to prevent the problem from spreading.’

‘So, the roses are like spies, then?’

‘ Appunto .’ Precisely.

‘How fascinating. I’ll never look at a rose in the same way.’

Piero’s smile lit golden sparks in his hazel eyes.

‘Just going for a dip,’ he said, peeling his shirt off over his head before getting to his feet.

As he sauntered across the decking towards the pool, Jess fixed her gaze on the swimming shorts that melded his rounded backside. And when he dived into the deep end, she had the silly urge to go sprinting over and dive in alongside him. She pushed the idea aside and returned to her book. But she couldn’t focus – she was too distracted by the sight of his powerful arms and shoulders ploughing through the water.

Don’t look , Jess told herself.

When he got out of the pool, she risked a quick glance. He was shaking the water from his hair and the droplets were running down his beautifully tanned, toned body. She felt her face flame and lowered her eyes to her book again.

‘What are you reading?’ he asked, coming up and receiving a joyful welcome from Cappero, who’d stayed in the shade.

Jess showed Piero the cover of The Time Traveller’s Wife , explaining that it was an unconventional love story about a man who is unavoidably whisked through time, and that he meets his future wife when she’s still a child.

‘Problem is that while his age darts back and forth according to his location in time, hers moves forward in the normal manner, so the pair are often out of sync.’

‘Sounds like a crazy read,’ Piero said, drying himself with the towel he left on his sunbed.

‘It’s so different from anything I’ve read before.’

‘What do you usually read?’

‘All sorts.’ Jess took a sip of water. ‘I like historical, contemporary, even science fiction.’

‘What about movies?’

‘I’ll watch a range – from Star Trek to The Notebook .’

‘I’ve never heard of The Notebook ,’ Piero said. ‘But I’ve seen the entire television series of Star Trek as well as all the films.’

‘The entire series? All of them?’

‘Yes, all of them. Voyager is perhaps my favourite.’ He looked straight at Jess. ‘I think it’s Captain Janeway that keeps me transfixed. I love a strong female character.’

A knot formed in Jess’s stomach. She and Scott had bonded over their love of science fiction and she couldn’t to go down that route with Piero – much as she might have liked to. She’d develop romantic feelings for him, and that would only lead to tears.

‘I enjoyed it yesterday when you told me about the American landing in Licata,’ she said, rapidly changing the subject. ‘You mentioned that your grandfather helped the Allies. Did they pass through this area?’

The story Piero then told her, about the godfather of Villaurora’s involvement with the Americans, made Jess’s chest tingle.

‘It sounds even more fantastical than the book I’m reading,’ she said, taking another drink from her bottle of water.

‘The tale could have been embellished by don Nofriu. It’s impossible to gauge just how much he and his friends in Cosa Nostra encouraged Sicilian soldiers to lay down their arms. More likely, bad morale, poor leadership, outdated equipment and the sight of vast numbers of superior troops hurtling towards them in mechanised columns had more to do with it. Not to mention aircraft leading the way in the skies above.’

‘It must have been terrible?—’

‘The British invading force on the other side of the island met with huge casualties. They could only advance slowly, from what I’ve read. The American army accomplished its mission far ahead of schedule and with very little loss of life.’ Piero held Jess in his gaze. ‘It makes me believe that Cosa Nostra must have had something to do with the US success.’

‘I’m interested in what you said about the American crime boss.’ Jess had never heard of the man before.

‘That part of the story is a bit of a myth. But the Office of Naval Intelligence did contact Lucky Luciano in 1942 to ask for his help in protecting the New York harbour from enemy sabotage. The authorities denied asking him to assist with the Allied occupation of Sicily, though. As well they might, given that he was a notorious criminal.’

‘All I know about the Sicilian Mafia,’ Jess said, ‘is that they murdered magistrates and carried out terror attacks in the 1990s. It was on the TV news, I remember.’ A memory came into her mind of her parents’ reaction to the bombings, how horrified they’d been and how her mother’s face had turned ashen.

‘There’s a new leadership now, apparently, and murders of state officials have been halted,’ Piero said. ‘Italian law enforcement is far more successful at acting against Cosa Nostra these days.’

Jess pushed her sunglasses up her nose and asked him to tell her when the Sicilian Mafia had been created. He responded that it was a tough question to answer, but most people believed it started in the nineteenth century.

‘There were many small private armies, or mafie , hired by absentee landlords to protect their latifundi from bandits,’ Piero said. ‘The ruffians in those private armies organised themselves and grew so powerful that they turned against the padroni and became the sole law on several estates, extorting money from the landowners in return for protecting their crops.’

She listened with rapt attention while Piero told her that the different mafie would meet with each other to settle disputes. In the twentieth century, they evolved from enforcers of feudal law into the administrators of an alternative legal system for much of Sicily’s economy. And just as in any legal system, the most important law was that a person could never seek justice outside the system – a code of silence developed known as omertà .

When Jess expressed surprise that the government hadn’t tried to do anything about it, Piero explained that, in the mid-1920s, Mussolini appointed Cesare Mori, a retired member of the police force, as the new prefect of Palermo. For four years, Mori’s forces terrorised the towns in which Cosa Nostra held sway. By the end of the decade, the fascists had arrested over eleven thousand people, and many mafiosi had fled to the United States.

‘How did the Mafia become so powerful again if Mussolini had got rid of it?’ she asked, intrigued.

‘His battle against the godfathers wasn’t as successful as he’d claimed. The fascist-controlled press was ordered to follow the party line and avoid mentioning Cosa Nostra.’ Piero exhaled a slow breath. ‘Continued incidents of crime, violence, and lawlessness went unreported. Many of the gangsters jailed in Mussolini’s four-year campaign were released, and the Mafia problem became worse.’

‘You’re a walking history book, Piero.’ Jess leant forward. ‘I’m truly fascinated.’

‘I could also give you the rundown on Klingon law and their various battles with the Federation.’ He grinned ruefully. ‘All wars are basically the same, no matter the species.’

‘Good point.’ Jess laughed. ‘What happened after the Allies occupied Sicily?’ Her grandmother would have experienced the occupation, and she felt a burning need to know.

‘The Allies released several mafiosi from prison, categorising them as victims of the fascist regime. The military government replaced fascist mayors with various community leaders, and many of these were also godfathers or their associates.’

‘Like don— don—’ She couldn’t remember his name and wondered if Lucia had ever met him.

‘Don Nofriu. I could tell you some stories about that man.’ Piero checked his watch. ‘But they’ll have to wait for another day. Now I must get back to work. It was nice chatting with you, Jess.’

‘It was nice chatting with you too, Piero.’ She glanced at him. ‘I’m heading up to Villaurora later this afternoon, by the way. I’ll visit the property, then go to the grocery store.’

‘I haven’t forgotten about taking a look at your baglio. My kids are arriving tomorrow for a brief visit, so maybe we can arrange a day next week after they’ve gone back to Palermo?’

‘That would be lovely, thank you,’ she said.

‘I’ll look forward to it.’ He rose, picked up his shirt and towel. ‘Come, Cappero.’

Jess gazed at his retreating backside until he was out of sight.

* * *

The drive to Villaurora had become familiar to Jess, and she tuned in to easy listening music on the radio as she made her way up to the village.

At the baglio, she unlocked the heavy rustic door leading into the square courtyard. She went indoors and gazed around, imagining how the place would look with a little TLC. Arches left bare between the rooms. Walls matte plastered white. The red-brick floors polished until they shone like stars. Window shutters painted sage green.

She would fill the property with her English family and friends. They’d love a swimming pool, and so would she. Perhaps she could add an upper floor on one side of the quadrangle for extra space? It would have a fabulous view.

Jess couldn’t wait to show everything to Piero and get his advice. Her chest fluttered as she thought about him. Why did he have to be so incredibly good-looking and charming, yet so unavailable? She heaved a deep sigh.

Her gaze fell on the strange turquoise ceramic medusa cemented onto the wall to the left of the entrance door. Curious, she went up to it and touched her finger to the corn ears and three legs. What might it represent?

Perhaps Piero will know.

She locked up and made her way around to the back of the building, hoping she’d find Giovanna there so she could ask her some questions. But there was no one about, so Jess set off for a short walk. Bells echoed from the village below, calling the faithful to evening mass as she headed up through the olive groves towards the track where she had seen the motorbike disappear in a cloud of dust two days ago.

The pointed fever-chart crags forming a rocky ridge above the village towered in the distance. She brushed past agave cactus plants and something fell from them with a faint, dry rattle. Hopefully not a snake. She hurried on, the path not nearly as dangerous as Giovanna had made it out to be. Some kind of shepherd’s hut had been built in the middle of a sloping field ahead, but Jess couldn’t see any sheep.

Stones scattered beneath her feet as she approached the hut. The door and windows had been boarded up and the place had an abandoned look to it which made her think it was unoccupied. Why should someone come up here on a motorbike?

Stopping to catch her breath, Jess glanced at her watch; she’d better make tracks to the village shop or it would be closed before she got there. There was something about the hut that called to her, but she’d put off exploring further until she had more time to do so.