Lawless - [15]

For Bianca the whole thing was torture. It was all she could do to watch as the coffin was sprinkled with holy water and then it was incensed. Prayers were said for Tito’s soul and the choir sang ‘On Eagle’s Wings’. Then came the funeral Mass and absolution, with candles lit around the coffin.

And then they were all outside in the biting wind, gathered around the freshly dug grave. The elderly priest intoned his words of conclusion: ‘May his soul and the souls of all the faithful departed through the mercy of God rest in peace.’

At last, it was over.

Having kept a tight grip on her mother throughout, Bianca could feel Bella trembling, shuddering with sobs. To bury one’s own child must be agony. The crowds of mourners began to disperse, leaving only close family by the graveside. Then Bianca saw Ruby Darke again, standing alone some distance away from their silent little group.

‘What the fuck’s she doing here?’ asked Fabio.

Bella stepped forward and slapped her youngest son’s face. ‘Shut up! You are in a place of worship, standing at your brother’s grave,’ she snapped.

Maria’s eyes met Bianca’s. Maria was mouse-like in the presence of her forceful mother-in-law. Bianca felt almost sorry for her sometimes, when she wasn’t feeling scornful over Maria’s lack of backbone. Bianca loved Mama, but she knew she could be manipulative, and Vittore was a sucker for her machinations. Maria, who was not bright, was no match for Bella. In Maria’s place, Bianca would have given Bella a hell of a fight.

‘Go now, all of you,’ said Bella imperiously. ‘I wish to talk to her alone.’

‘Mama-’ started Bianca.

‘Go home. Go back to the house, Bianca. Make sure everything’s ready for our guests.’

13

Seeing that Bella was now alone at the graveside, Ruby summoned her nerve and approached the older woman.

‘Mrs Danieri?’ she said hesitantly.

Bella nodded.

‘You wanted to talk to me,’ said Ruby.

‘Yes. I did. Thank you for coming, Miss Darke.’

Ruby was wishing she hadn’t. She hated this – standing in a damp, cold graveyard among strangers. She’d been glared at by Bella’s children, and she was still wondering anxiously what this strange request, that peculiar telephone call, was all about.

Blood will flow.

She shivered anew to think of those words. Her eyes skimmed over the woman wearing the thick black veil, the shapeless clothes, then down at the coffin, lying there in the unfilled grave, the brass plate sullied by the first sprinklings of dirt.

‘There have been rumours, Miss Darke,’ said Bella.

Ruby wished that Bella Danieri would lift her veil, that she could see her face, judge her mood more clearly. In business and in life, she liked to know exactly what she was dealing with. Here, she felt she was flying blind.

‘What rumours?’ asked Ruby.

‘Rumours that your son Kit could have been the one who killed my boy Tito.’

Ruby said nothing. Her heart was beating very fast: she wondered if she was about to be sick.

‘And you know what I think?’ Bella went on, then paused.

She’s about to tell me that they’re going to kill Kit, thought Ruby in horror.

But Bella’s next words surprised her.

‘I think enough. We – you and I – we’re the matriarchs of our families. That’s the word, isn’t it? Matriarchs?’

Ruby had to swallow hard so that she could speak.

‘Yes. That’s the right word.’

But Ruby was thinking that she wasn’t much of a matriarch. She had built a new relationship with her daughter – but barely any relationship at all with her son. To imagine that she could influence Kit in any way was madness. Just a few weeks ago, he had told her that Michael Ward, who had been like a father to him, had wanted him to try and patch things up with Ruby, to forgive her. That had been almost Michael’s last wish on earth. So Kit had said he would try.

But he hadn’t.

Kit was still cool to her, still as remote as ever.

She could hardly see Bella’s eyes through the veil, but she could feel them, watching her face keenly. ‘We have the power to stop this here,’ said Bella. ‘You and I.’

‘I thought all Italian families cared about was revenge,’ said Ruby.

‘I’m too tired for revenge,’ said Bella, and she sounded tired, too: old and exhausted.

‘Do you believe these rumours?’

‘Did I say I believed them?’ Bella shrugged. ‘Tito had many enemies, you know.’

Ruby said nothing, but she was chillingly aware of Bella’s eyes on her, gauging her reaction. She was aware of what the Danieri family was. Michael had told her about the Camorra in Naples and how it had now come onto the streets of London. It was a brotherhood, a society, older than the Mafia which had its roots in Sicily. She didn’t think for a minute that Bella was simply a sweet, doddering old woman. Like the rest of her kin, she could be lethal.

‘You were close to Michael Ward,’ said Bella.

‘Yes,’ said Ruby. ‘I was.’

‘He was married to my niece Serafina up until the time she died. She grew up here, and changed her name to Sheila. She wanted to “fit in”, you see.’

‘I know all that.’

‘Then you came along. And I think he was happy with you.’

‘I hope so.’

‘But then he died too. Violently. Perhaps your boy Kit believed that Tito gave the order to kill Michael. That Vittore or Fabio carried out that order. And for that, for the death of the man who meant so much to him, perhaps your Kit sought revenge.’