The sudden order made Tara jump.
She had been deep in thought, recalling what Ben had told her about his work and how he had dropped out of school now to “see the world.’ He had told her that he was planning to go on a jaunt to Europe; hitchhiking. She was still dreamily contemplating how romantic it would be, going about the Continent, with a backpack and no worries. Maybe she could join him…?
The sudden shout in her ear made her jump in an undignified manner. The smirk on Lou’s face did nothing for her fragile ego.
Bristling, she rounded on the old woman, her eyes flashing.
Tara was in infante terrible mode.
She shot back rudely, glaring hotly at her Mumma’s staunchest supporter,
“Or what? You’ll go running to snitch on me to Mumma? Well, just go ahead already, you crazy old bat.’
And as Beatrice stared at her in astonishment, she continued, sneering,
‘ Why don’t you just leave our house and go away? This Isn’t Your house, anyways. You are just a servant. Old and useless at that too. Just Mumma’s spy.’
And having delivered that nasty, stinging speech, she jumped off her chair and ran away. The shocked silence in the dining room followed her but her flash of bravado kept her going.
*
Every one of the Delano children had grown up seeing Beatrice as part of the family.
When Proserpina had been forcibly hauled back from Bhutan by an enraged, testosterone-charged Lucien Delano, with the illegitimate twins she had given birth to in secret in tow, the only person who had stepped in to hold her, to soothe the confused and torn young woman in her early twenties, had been the old housekeeper.
All throughout the tumultuous early years of the young woman’s stormy relationship with her brutally hard Mafia Don husband, who had unceremoniously married her, it was Beatrice who had remained unfailingly like a rock, for Proserpina.
And Proserpina regarded her as being the mother she had never had.
For Proserpina had been abandoned by her mother when she was very young, while the woman ran away with her latest lover. She had no idea who her father had been too.
And Beatrice with her caustic tongue and loving nature hid behind a mask of acid retorts, had been the one who had ever given her the sort of love she had craved, the maternal feel.
*
Beatrice also had a long-standing relationship with Lucien, having known him before he became a Don. Her husband had given up his life during an encounter involving a rival gang of the Mafia Don’s. Lucien had immediately brought the older woman home, taking her under his protection, and from that day, she had been a part of his household. She stood now, rooted to the spot, staring blankly after the way the young girl had gone.
*
Proserpina was clear. Beatrice was Family. No one ever disrespected her.
And no one had ever disobeyed her.
Not till today, that is.
But Tara in the newfound desire to emulate Madeline Nord and become a glorious rebel had broken that golden rule.
The children watched in shock as the old woman seemed to crumple before their eyes. She staggered and turned away, brushing away the hands of Dom and Claude who had leapt up to her rescue. Walking awkwardly, she disappeared into the kitchen.
*
Tara did not get very far.
Suddenly, a large hand clamped down on her shoulder, gripping her neck, and spun her around.
Claude stood behind her, his face furious. His eyes were pin-points of anger as he leaned in closer to her and snarled,
‘You brainless twit, you NEVER, EVER speak to Bea like that, do you hear?’
She struggled, suddenly ashamed and frightened of her large sibling who looked as though he wanted to throttle her. He shook her hard and she felt her teeth rattle.
But Ria had rushed up, behind Claude, followed by her twin brothers, Dom and Lou. Her sister stepped forward and prised away Claude’s large, meaty paw.
‘Shhh…Claude,’ she said softly ad Tara felt a wave of shame. Ria might be devastated but she was adult enough to handle the situation with a degree of maturity that left Tara feeling embarrassed for her childish outburst.
Ria turned to her and said sternly,
“Tara, you were horrible. Go and apologize to Bea right away.’
There was no getting away. Both her older siblings were furious and she felt bad too. After all, it was always Bea who used to slip that extra slice of chocolate cake to her on the sly, or give her more of any food which she liked, without giving it to the boys…
She nodded sulkily and followed Ria to the kitchen.
Beatrice was huddled in a chair, sniffing, her old face suddenly looking weary.
Tara rushed to her and sobbing, flung her arms around the only woman who had come close to being a grandmother.
“Bea, I am sorry, Bea, I am…’ she wept and felt the old woman’s arms go around her as she crooned, softly, over and over again,
‘ It’s okay, honey chile. It is okay…’
But deep down in her heart, Beatrice felt a sadness, a desolation that would not go away.
*
Lucien
He slammed the phone down in frustration.
No contact.
No information.
He swore and lifting the bottle of whiskey, he gulped down the contents, straight from the bottle, neat. The burning sensation in his belly reminded him that he had missed dinner and he glanced disparagingly at the plate of forgotten, limp sandwiches.
Gustav had disappeared; possibly to return with another tray of food to replenish the food that lay now, dry and forlorn, in the center of his ornate table.
*
And then, the phone rang just as Schwartz rushed into the room, shouting.
Lucien grabbed the handset, putting it on speakerphone as the disembodied voice of one of his contacts came over the line.
In between the bursts of static, he made out what the man was yelling over the line,
“…Boss, we found them….’ Again a loud series of sounds, and then the man went on speaking,’ … found the Capo.’
‘How is he?’ shouted Lucien, his muscular body glistening with sweat as he strained to hear the words. The blood was pounding in his ears and he was tense.
“…they lost the …’ A rush of static and then Lucien bellowed, in frustration,
‘THE F*CK?’
The man’s voice came again, clearer this time.
‘… bleeding heavily… but he’s dead.’
‘F*CKING WHAT? ‘ shouted Lucien as he threw down the instrument in a rage.