The Silent Wife(59)

Maggie perched on one of our bar stools, twisting the bottom of her smock. ‘Can I say something to you, something you won’t repeat, not to anyone?’

I didn’t respond, just felt myself gearing up to answer a question that hadn’t yet been asked. I prepared one of my lines, my laughing dismissals, my casual ‘nothing to see here’ shrugs fermented to perfection over the years. I could go for ‘That’s just his sense of humour; he doesn’t mean anything by it.’ Or perhaps ‘It’s his Italian blood, all that Mediterranean passion. The Farinellis all have a bit of fire in them. He gets over it quickly though.’ Or a simple blank look and an ‘I didn’t really notice. I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about’.

Maggie rubbed her eyes. ‘I’m sorry to dump this on you, Lara, but I’m so stressed about this holiday. Francesca has been so rude to me over the last month or so. It’s bad enough when we’re at home, but I just want to bawl my eyes out every time I think about her speaking to me like a piece of shit in front of Anna. And Mum won’t put up with Francesca being mardy and horrible, so then she’ll get involved and I’ll be caught in the middle. I don’t even want to go.’ And with that, she started crying, not the restrained hiccupping I did, but full-on sobbing.

All that adrenaline I’d been storing up to release as bemused indignation directed itself into making my legs tremble. I sat down on a stool, struggling to comprehend that Maggie with her joyful heart was even giving a second thought to what Anna might think.

I was so used to containing my own emotions, repackaging them into acceptable shapes to present to the world that it took me a moment to realise someone like Maggie might have her own demons. I must have looked absolutely astonished because Maggie stumbled on.

‘Sorry, I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but I can’t say anything to Nico because he’s already worried out of his mind about Francesca. I know how hard it’s been for her – but she just hates me.’

Finally, the bit of my brain that operated without weighing up ‘what Massimo would say if he knew’ cranked into action.

‘Oh my god. I had no idea you felt like that. I’ve been so full of admiration for you. You’ve been so lovely to Sandro – he adores you – and you seemed to be handling everyone so well. Honestly, it’s so hard to come into a family as close-knit as this one – it took me ages to feel comfortable with them all. But Nico adores you, and Massimo thinks you’re wonderful.’ I concentrated on keeping the edge out of my voice. I forced a laugh. ‘Anna, well, we’d be a little deluded if we thought anyone could be good enough for her boys.’

Maggie’s shoulders relaxed slightly. ‘Really? I don’t want to sound ungrateful, really I don’t, I know how lucky I am, but I feel like I’m permanently on trial. In the beginning, I was doing okay with Francesca, but then there was all that to-do with the jewellery box.’

I felt as though I had a balloon full of water that I was squashing between my hands, seeing which little pocket of rubber burst first. ‘She’s not still going on about that, is she? It’s not like you know what happened to it. It might not even have been you that threw it away.’

Maggie bit her lip. ‘It was me.’

‘Really? Why?’ As soon as the words were out, I wanted to run away. I couldn’t find out that the only person I trusted to be on my side was a thief.

‘I can’t tell you why. It was for a good reason, though.’

I wanted to be the judge of that, wanted to be sure my judgement wasn’t so flawed, so damaged after ten years with Massimo that I could no longer spot a decent person in a slimy, putrid barrel of rotten apples. The see-saw of upper hand shifted slightly. I’d always been looking up to Maggie, in awe of her joie de vivre, her resilience, her cheeriness. But now she was turning to me for reassurance. I owed her. Her generosity – taking me out driving, finding things to love about Sandro, sorting out Lupo – had, little by little, made my life a less lonely place.

‘Why can’t you tell me?’

I winced as she wrapped one of her curls around her finger so tightly I saw her skin lift up from her hairline. ‘It would hurt Nico. I did it to protect him. And Francesca.’

Bile burned in the pit of my stomach. Maggie had obviously worked out that the box was some sort of love token that hadn’t come from Nico. I felt as though I was staggering along on the deck of a ferry during a particularly nasty crossing, careering between finally obtaining proof that Massimo had had an affair with Caitlin and a desire to bury my head in the sand.

I stared at her, searching her face for any indication that she knew Massimo was involved. It was no good. I couldn’t let her off the hook without finding out what she knew. ‘What do you mean?’

Maggie fiddled with her wedding ring. ‘I shouldn’t have said anything. I just came across something in the box that – well, that Nico might not like.’ She got down from the stool. ‘Sorry, Lara, I shouldn’t have dragged you into this. Forget it, it’s not important.’

I had to stop myself grabbing her arm and screaming, ‘Do you know if my husband had an affair with Caitlin?’ I couldn’t let her disappear next door while I spent the evening wondering, staring at Massimo for clues until he snapped at me.

With a searing sense of shame, I stood up to let Maggie leave, saying, ‘I’m sorry you don’t feel you can confide in me. I thought we were friends.’