Proserpina Delano
I sat at the small dining table tucked away in a corner of the kitchen; my hands clasped as I tried to focus on an image of the Buddha which had always made me feel peaceful. But tonight a hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach made me aware that something was horribly wrong. I could not concentrate easily.
My eyes absently ran over this delightful corner of my large L-shaped kitchen. This little area was my refuge. The cheerful yellow wallpaper created a sunny disposition no matter how low and weary I felt. adorned with the unlacquered copper pots I had picked from a flea market once a long while ago, the soapstone counters that quickly patina, and a simple central dining table instead of a kitchen island, the kitchen’s lived-in atmosphere instantly makes anyone who enters feel right at home.
It was tucked away in a corner, slightly removed from the ultra-modern equipment of the rest of the chrome and marble kitchen. There was a small pillar that sheltered it for it had actually been a patio overlooking the lawns and the park that had been converted on my explicit instructions into a cosy restful area. French doors opened out onto the kitchen garden and the lawns beyond it. It was serene and restful and I hid away there when things got to be too much for me.
Now I sighed running my hands over my hair that had come undone from the heavy braid I preferred to keep it confined in. I need to get it trimmed, I thought as I gazed out into the darkness where the rain was showing no signs of letting up.
Lucien had been gone for more than an hour now and I glanced at the phone that lay on the wooded table before me. Why had he not called? He had been gone for some time now…
Beatrice marched up to me, a cup of steaming hot chamomile teas that she placed before me. I smiled up at her wanly and respecting my need to be alone, she moved away.
I could make out Ria talking to Camille who was leaning against the counter, looking anxious. Although Tony Beston, our Head of Security was her husband now I knew that he would never discuss anything confidential with his wife; he was loyal to Gaston and a thorough professional. Besides he knew his hot-tempered wife, who would blurt out any information she had, to me.
Sighing, I wrapped my hands around the cup of tea and sipped gratefully, shutting my eyes as I inhaled the fragrance. Bless you, my dearest Bea, I thought in gratitude.
.*
Ria
She walked about the kitchen, her blonde hair in a long ponytail, swinging as it cascaded down her back. She was agitated. If she had her way, she would have been out there with Pappa and his men, but when it came to such matters, Pappa was definitely a chauvinist, she thought crossly.
The Mafioso mentality she groused angrily, Keep the little women at home, they should only be bedded, never allowed to get in the way of gunfire.
She glanced at her mother who was sitting in her favourite place in the kitchen, the tiny alcove tucked away in a corner.
The lines she had come across, in a book a few months ago, came to her mind.
“In the childhood memories of every good cook, there’s a large kitchen, a warm stove, a simmering pot and a mom.”
It was so true of her childhood, she thought, a reminiscent smile tugging at her wide, full mouth. Her Mumma and the kitchen were eponymous. Although Proserpina Delano combined a successful career as an academician with running her home and taking care of all her children and managing to keep the Mafia Don dancing to her tune, Mumma would always be in her mind as the beautiful, smiling, and tender person in the kitchen, creating magical delicacies
Pappa had smiled indulgently when Mumma had put her dainty foot down and demanded an exclusive area designed for relaxation, in a small corner of the kitchen. Within two days, the place had come up, exactly the way her sensitive, beautiful Mumma had wanted it to be. Yes, she thought, Pappa truly loved Mumma; he would move hell and heaven for her.
*
Which was why he had wanted to keep her unaware of what was happening, Ria thought as she fidgeted with her phone, and looked up to find Camille’s astute gaze on her.
“She doesn’t know about Claude, does she?’ asked Camille in a low voice. Ria knew she meant April and she shook her head slowly.
*
Piers had told her about how Claude had visited the bar that Paddy used to frequent; had also told her about how Claude had been attacked when he was asking about it. Ria had been alarmed and had wanted to jump up and leave immediately to be at her brother’s side. But Piers had prevented her and had reassured her.
The Capo has taken care of that, he said as he met her eyes.
The Capo.
Ria’s eyes flickered as she thought of Philippe and the hot, hunger in his eyes that appeared when he thought she was not looking at him; a look which he quickly masked when she met his eyes. She knew that she wanted him, her body ached for him, a strange sensation seeing that she had only had the words her friends who told her about their sexual encounters, to rely on. But she felt a clenching in her lower belly when he was close, a quickening of her breath…But she knew that she would not do anything to make him know how desperately she wanted him. Instead, she gave him the royal Ice Queen treatment although she suspected that he knew her true feelings.
*
Piers had told her how Philippe and his men had rushed Claude off to the hospital. She had immediately called up her impetuous younger brother who often acted on the spur of the moment, never thinking about the outcome.
She had not been surprised to hear his warm voice come over the phone, chuckling as she rebuked him for not having been careful enough.
“Ria, ‘ he said drily, ‘ I just got a few stitches and a large bandage around my chest. Nurses Hawkins and Nurse Imai have done a great job and are looking after me fantastically. Aren’t you, ladies?’
Ria groaned. The last lines had been addressed to the nurses in the room and she heard the answering titters of the smitten ladies in question as they responded before leaving.
Claude came back on the line, his voice serious.
“Got the lovely old ladies to leave.’
There was the sound of rustling as he sat up and shifted, and then he came back on the line,
“Paddy has got himself mixed in some really bad stuff. those guys had not come to play tennis. They were serious.’
And then, after a silence when they could hear his guards speaking, Claude continued,
‘He left the bar with some information. He was heading home. Where can he have gone?’
Piers who had joined the call, spoke gruffly, ‘Pappa just got a message that Paddy’s bike was found. In the woods near the house.’
The sound of the rain made his voice sound faint. He was probably in the woods with Pappa, looking for Paddy, thought Ria, suddenly feeling faint. She sank onto one of the stools around the wide kitchen table and held her head, willing herself not to cry. Camille came across and stood beside her, blocking her from April’s view.
“Hush, child,’ she said softly, “Hush…’
*
The men moved in the driving grain, searching the woods. Piers wanted to join but his father forbade him, coldly.
“My men are trained to fight. Do you have a weapon?’ he rasped and his cold blue-grey eyes glittered.
Piers hung back, but he knew that he wanted nothing better than to be there, looking for his adopted brother who was such a gentle, kind if reclusive soul. The Capo was there; he had arrived a few minutes ago, looking exhausted but he had immediately instructed his men to fan out in the forest and set off himself, weapons drawn, seemingly oblivious of the rain which was coming down in sheets now.
Suddenly, a shout went up, alarmed and urgent,
‘Boss! he’s here.’
ignoring the rain that was plastering his leonine head of silver hair to his skull, Gaston leapt forward, followed by Schwartz, who had been on the phone, asking for backup. Piers dashed forward and skidded to a halt. His father, his long trench coat dripping wet, was staring at the slight figure lying limp and unmoving at the bottom of a small hollow, having landed onto a bed of leaves and twigs into which Paddy’s body had been flung.
Piers shouted hoarsely,
‘No, no, no!”