Claudia was on the point of saying you damned well know you did, you venomous bat, when she noticed that the couch upon which the old crone reclined had two wheels nailed to the front. The sparrow followed the direction of her glance.
‘I’ll bet you’ve heard my daughter-in-law playing whisper-whisper-whisper with that sourpuss physician-well, indulge them, that’s what I say.’ From beneath her thin coverlet, she drew out a wineskin. ‘Lavinia can dance across this floor any time she fancies.’ She chuckled, proffering the liquor.
Close up, Claudia saw that Lavinia was younger than she appeared, by ten, maybe even fifteen years, that the wrinkles came from years of exposure to the sun, rather than age. Unexpectedly for Atlantis, the linen she wore was coarse and untailored, simply two widths sewn together and belted with a home-made girdle, and even as she accepted the wineskin, Claudia was wondering how a simple farmer’s wife could afford a place like this.
A smoky pink light was spreading over the eastern horizon, and on the sheet of mercury that was Lake Plasimene, a single yellow flame sprang into life. With a thrill of surprise, Claudia saw it came from the Villa Tuder.
‘You don’t,’ Lavinia said, eyeing up Claudia’s jewels, ‘look like a girl who believes that crap about pine trees filtering the germs. What brings you here, if not to escape the contagion?’
Claudia passed back the wine. ‘The same as you, I suspect.’
‘I doubt that very much.’ Lavinia snorted, patting her one indulgence, a pile of immaculate curls. ‘This is the first time in his wastrel life my son has pampered his old mother, but-’ she took a long swig from the skin ‘-it’s a beautiful spot, this lake, and you won’t hear Lavinia complain.’ She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. ‘What a treat, to be free of the olives.’
‘You own a grove, then?’
‘Near Luca. It’s just a smallholding-me, my son and my son’s wife, though since neither of them moves without a fire being lit under their tails, Lavinia relies on her field hand, but it’s not a bad old life, all things considered. Do you have children?’
‘No.’
‘Good for you, they’re nothing but trouble, especially sons,’ Lavinia said, replacing the stopper in the wineskin. ‘Take my boy-thinks sesterces grow next to the olives, and in those years we’re lucky enough to make a profit, what happens? He blows it on some harebrained venture! I tell you, Lalo my field hand is more like a son-still-’ she pulled a face ‘-my lad’s done me proud, treating his old mother to some fancy pandering, though the gossip’s as much fun as the treatments. My, my, you should see what goes on! It’s like an upper-class bawdy house and talk about scandal!’
‘Such as?’ Claudia’s tone was mild and enticing, and with a smack of her lips, Lavinia rose to the bait.
‘There was that woman who died in the mud room, for a start. Lordy, you should have seen Pylades’ face when he found out. White as a sheet, poor bugger, scared stiff the scandal would ruin Atlantis. In the end, he got Kamar to hush it up, to say she died in her sleep. Well-’ Lavinia cackled like a sea-witch ‘-that part was true. They just didn’t let on where.’
‘Anything…else?’ Claudia kept her eyes on the single yellow light burning like a beacon on the island across the lake.
‘Ffff. You wouldn’t believe what Lavinia’s picked up. That busty redhead from the fishmonger’s, palming herself off as nobility to hook herself a rich husband. The blond Adonis-type, having it off with his father’s new bride, thinks I don’t know. Ha! Because I’m crippled, folk think I’m blind, deaf and dumb-but never underestimate Lavinia, that’s my motto. Folk have tried, and worse they are for it, I can tell you. Not that they all come a cropper like that whippersnapper I was talking to yesterday-’
‘What?’ Claudia said, and a thousand worms crawled beneath her skin. ‘You were talking to Cal? When?’
‘Cheeky bugger perched against that rail there just the other night and you know what he said?’ The old woman pursed her lips. ‘Said he reckoned I was nothing but a fraud. Poetic justice, if you ask me, him falling from that selfsame spot. Told him at the time, I did, mark my words, young fellow, the gods will punish mischief-makers-’
‘Did you-’ Claudia asked slowly, her nails biting into the palms of her hand ‘-see him fall?’
‘Me?’ There was an almost imperceptible pause. ‘Too damned hot for Lavinia, this weather.’ A gnarled brown hand slipped the wineskin out from beneath the coverlet. ‘Like a lazy lioness, she’s taken to sleeping through the daytime, only my son mustn’t get wind that I let my field hand sleep in my bed at night, he’d go apeshit.’ A faraway look came into the startling blue eyes. ‘Well, maybe not these days, because I do believe my lad has finally changed his ways. Mind.’ She gave a small, self-conscious laugh. ‘When I say lad, he’s forty-seven, but then some take that long before they grow up, and usually death is the catalyst.’
Claudia watched her take a deep draught of red wine, and thought, Cal was right about you, my girl, you’re not what you appear. And you didn’t actually answer my question, did you, about whether or not you saw what happened to Cal?
‘Whose death?’ she coaxed. ‘Your husband’s?’
‘Him? That old miser slipped his anchor when I was thirty-two, no, no, no.’ Lavinia handed the wineskin to Claudia. ‘I’m talking about a shipwreck, that’s what sobered my son. Every single hand went down, see.’
As the sky began to brighten, Lake Plasimene yawned and stretched and prepared itself for another sticky day. Round the margins waterfowl honked to one another, frogs began to croak and, from the myriad of trees which grew along this promontory, birds called out the daily news-bluetits, blackcaps and siskins, swapping tales of how many eggs they had raised, weren’t oak apples prolific this year, and who’d have thought millipedes grew so fat. And Claudia asked herself what it was Lavinia was hiding…
‘It was the same old story. Every time we made a little profit, he’d invest it in some stupid get-rich scheme and every time we’d end up broke. That’s why I refused to remarry, even though it’s against the law, but I wasn’t going to hand my grove over just-’ she snapped her bony fingers ‘-like that, and my boy wasn’t competent! Take this last venture. Two years’ profit he invested in grain and what happens? Bloody ship sinks in a storm off Alexandria, fully laden. Mind, it shook him to the core, did that. Set him rethinking all his values, because next thing he’s whisking me off for a month of solid pampering and I tell you straight, I’m relishing every single second.’
So how come, thought Claudia, plugging the stopper back in the neck of the wineskin, the son could afford to send his old gossip of a mother here…?
‘Sadly I’m stuck with my daughter-in-law and her frightful sister-’ Lavinia began, then pulled up short, as though catching sight of something over Claudia’s shoulder. However, before Claudia could turn to face the sliding doors, Lavinia broke into a cough.
‘My…medicine,’ she croaked. ‘In my room. Would you mind?’
Claudia could hardly refuse a sick woman’s request, yet she had the strangest feeling Lavinia had contrived to get her out of the way. That cough was pretty unconvincing. But why? Why should an impecunious, weather-beaten olive grower want her out of the way?
So busy was she conjuring up a list of possibilities that Claudia was completely unprepared for the sight which greeted her when she flung wide Lavinia’s door. On the couch, their limbs naked and entwined, a dark-haired girl and a negro were worshipping Eros with uninhibited abandon.
‘Who the blazes are you?’ the man demanded, hauling up the sheet as they sprang apart.
‘The medicine,’ Claudia barked. ‘Where’s Lavinia’s medicine?’
‘Merciful Jehovah, is she all right?’ It was the girl who sprang off the bed and grabbed a small phial from the table.
‘How the hell do I know?’ Claudia snapped, whipping the draught from her hand and racing back to the sun porch where, surprise, surprise, Lavinia had stopped coughing.