The Silent Wife(93)

Robert drew his shrunken frame up as far as it would go, a good five or six inches shorter than Massimo. He pointed back to the photo. ‘You. You. I see you.’ He tapped his own eye with his index finger.

Massimo sighed. ‘I think you’ve got it wrong, old man. You’re mistaking me for Nico, my brother.’

He turned to Lara. ‘We’d better let him know he needs some net curtains up at the bedroom window.’

Lara still didn’t say anything.

And just as I was fishing about for something to rescue the situation, to save Lara and Massimo from the hideousness of Robert’s wild imaginings, the doorbell rang. Whoever it was – Jehovah’s Witnesses, young offenders selling ironing board covers, the bloke selling ‘restaurant quality fish’ out of the back of his van – I was going to fall on them and keep them captive until they were tempted to dial 999 to escape.

Francesca came clattering out of the playroom with Sandro and threw the front door open. ‘It’s Dad!’

‘How did you get on?’ Nico was so busy looking at her medal and hearing about the swimming, he didn’t clock the funny-farm party in the lounge. As he walked through the hallway towards us, I was tempted to throw myself against his chest where bits of plant and compost were still clinging.

I raised my eyebrows at Nico, hoping he’d cop on to my wifespeak that we were in the middle of a ‘tricky situation’. I’d only got as far as ‘We’re just talking to Robert, Lara’s dad,’ when Massimo waved a hand towards Nico and said, ‘There, Robert. This is the man you saw with Caitlin. My brother, Nico.’

I waited, watching Robert, seeing if anything slotted into place. It was like playing Jenga in reverse, working out which bits you could slot back into the tower to stop the structure collapsing in a heap. His eyes narrowed as though a tremendous effort was required to keep hold of solid substances in the mists of his mind.

Robert walked towards Nico and stood opposite him, within millimetres of his face.

Nico, bless him, stepped back slightly but took hold of Robert’s arm. ‘I’m Nico, do you remember me? We met at Lara and Massimo’s wedding.’

The mention of Massimo was like watching someone give a cutlery drawer wedged shut by a wooden spoon a good thump. After so much tugging and banging, everything suddenly glided open with ease. Robert swung round and poked his bony finger in Massimo’s chest.

Lara shot out a hand. ‘Dad, don’t poke.’

But Robert was surprisingly strong for someone who looked as though he could well have pipe cleaners in the place of bones. He wrestled his arm free, leaning right into Massimo, his milky blue eyes darting about, his tongue making little movements around his lips as though he was anticipating the arrival of a precious moment of clarity.

In a triumphant tone he shouted, ‘You. I did see you. I saw you in the bedroom. With that woman… Cat— Cat—’ He waved at the photograph. ‘The bedroom where there’s purple round the window. Purple, purple…’ His hands were moving, as though he was trying to hook a word out of the ether. Then he forgot about it and said, ‘You were having sex. Sex! Sex!’

Before I could order my thoughts, Massimo’s voice started to rise, ‘Shut up! You’ve just come here to make trouble. Of course I wasn’t having sex with my brother’s wife, you demented old fool.’

Nico stepped towards them and stretched out a hand. ‘Massimo! Calm down! He’s confused, he doesn’t know what he’s saying.’

But there was something about the way Massimo recoiled from Nico as though he was expecting a blow that made me do a double take. Caitlin had been having sex with someone; that much I knew. But with ‘P’. Not Massimo. Surely she wouldn’t sleep with Nico’s brother?

While my mind was gathering evidence, sifting through what I knew for certain and scraping about for other moments and memories I’d overlooked, Massimo and Robert were squaring up to each other, oblivious to everyone else. Robert stood unsteadily with his hands on his hips repeating, ‘I saw you. You! I saw you! Sex with that woman!’

Massimo towered over him. ‘Shut up!’

But Robert wasn’t budging from his four-word refrain of ‘You, I saw you,’ nodding until he looked like he’d dislodge his remaining brain connections if someone didn’t believe him soon.

Nico grabbed Massimo’s upper arm. ‘Mass! That’s enough! He can’t help it, he’s ill.’

But Massimo shook Nico off and shoved Robert, ‘Shut up, you stupid old man!’

Robert went stumbling backwards, crashing into a glass coffee table and buckling at the knees.

Lara flew to her dad, screaming to Massimo, ‘Get off, get off him. He’s only telling the truth, you bullying bastard.’ She booted Massimo in the shins with such force that my own leg jolted. ‘Get away from us!’

Sandro started to cry. Before I could reach him, Francesca put her arm round him, but stood rooted to the spot, her eyes wide open in horror.

While Robert lay groaning on the floor, Massimo grabbed Lara under the jaw with an easy, practised movement, bringing her face up to his. She struggled and his hand tightened. He stared down at her, pressing a knuckle into the soft tissue between her collarbone and shoulder. She stopped trying to get away from him. ‘Don’t you dare kick me, you little cow.’