Bella’s expression was hard, and her voice matched it, her old East End accent rising to the surface. ‘You’re goin’ back, Linda, an’ you better start realizing you are on your own. An’ you better start gettin’ your act together an’ all. I’ve got mine together, Shirley’s got hers, Dolly—’
‘Oh, yeah, Dolly, the lying, twisted bitch, doing whatever the fuck she’s doing back in England...’
That was enough for Bella. She backed away. ‘You make me sick, you know that? You make me fuckin’ sick! You’re twisted, Linda, you’re all twisted up inside. You wanna smash things up between me an’ José because you’re jealous! You’re jealous, aren’t you? Why don’t you admit it?’
Linda sat down on the floor, holding her head in her hands. ‘Yeah, yeah. I am. How come you can get everything together and I’m just a fuck-up? I’ve always been a mess!’
Bella put her arms round her, trying to calm her down. ‘I’ll come round and see you tomorrow, OK? I’ll go and get the Roller. Come on, Linda, go home.’
Bella walked out and Linda was left alone. Once again she had that sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. What was the matter with her? Why was she like this? Why did she always feel this terrible need inside her, the need to have somebody with her? Then she remembered Joe, and instantly she was crying again. The two women came out of the cubicles and gave her a pitying look as they muttered to each other in Portuguese. Linda picked up a box of tissues and threw it at them.
‘What you fuckin’ lookin’ at, you tarts?’ Linda yanked open the door of the powder room and stormed out, flinging over her shoulder, ‘Fucking foreigners!’
Harry had told Tony to park the car a little way up the street so they wouldn’t be so conspicuous, but they had a good view of the villa. Harry sat staring at the main gates for a while. The villa was in darkness. After a few minutes they got out and walked down to it, through the iron gates and down the pathway to the main entrance. Tony looked up at the windows.
‘Nobody seems to be at home.’
Harry tried the front door, then walked round to one of the ground-floor balconies. He climbed onto the balcony and found the French window open.
‘I can wait.’ He entered the villa.
Tony stood outside for a while, and then followed Harry in. Their footsteps echoed across the marble entrance hall.
Harry touched Tony’s arm. ‘I’m goin’ upstairs, OK? See what you can find down here.’
‘What am I looking for? Your wife?’
‘Just see if she’s still staying here. Look for a passport, suitcases, anything.’ Then Harry was heading up the stairs.
Two of the bedrooms were empty. He opened the third bedroom door and walked in. The place was strewn with clothes, the bed unmade. He paused for a moment. He could hear Tony moving round below, doors opening and shutting. Harry started going through the drawers one by one, but apart from underwear and a few toiletries, they were empty.
Tony went through the kitchen and dining hall, into the lounge. The fridge was empty, apart from a few leftovers and a bottle of wine, and the place seemed deserted. He made his way upstairs, and found Harry on hands and knees, sifting through the contents of the bedside table.
He looked up. ‘You find anything?’
Tony shrugged. ‘There’s nothing.’
Harry eyed him suspiciously. ‘You find any money?’
Tony seemed to perk up. ‘Money? You think there’s money here? Believe me, if there’s money, I’ll find it.’
Harry smiled. ‘Yeah, I bet you will.’ He went into the bathroom. As Tony was pulling the mattress from the bed, he called out, ‘Just make sure you put everything back where you found it!’
Harry opened the medicine cabinet above the washbasin. There were bottles of perfume, face cream and suntan lotion. Suddenly Tony shouted from the bedroom, and Harry knocked over a toothbrush glass in surprise. It smashed into the washbasin, cutting the back of his left hand as he tried to catch it. He lifted his bleeding hand to his lips, swore and sucked at the blood. It was only a small cut, but deep. A trickle splashed onto the white washbasin.
‘We gotta go!’ shouted Tony. ‘There is a car!’
Harry went back into the bedroom and turned off the light. Tony was already at the door.
‘Come on, Harry! We go!’
Swearing under his breath, Harry went to the balcony and pulled the curtain aside an inch or two so he could see out. Sure enough, the headlights of a car were sweeping down the drive.
The two men ran down the stairs in the dark, slipped through the French windows and jumped down from the balcony. They threw themselves into the shrubbery just as the Rolls-Royce pulled up at the front door.
Linda Pirelli stepped out of the Rolls, staggering slightly before regaining her balance. The chauffeur climbed out of the driving seat with a sigh and went round to help her. She shrugged him off and made her way to the front door. She stumbled, dropped her keys, and then fiddled with the lock for a minute, before finally the door opened and she practically fell inside. The chauffeur stood for a moment, arms folded, waiting until the door closed, then got back in the car, shaking his head, and drove away.
Linda turned on the lights, stood blinking for a moment, then made her way into the kitchen and opened the fridge. She reached for the wine and plonked it on the table. She was rummaging in the kitchen drawer for a corkscrew when she heard the sound of a car horn outside. She sat and listened for a moment, and the horn tooted again. She made her way through the kitchen and along the hall to the lounge balcony. She opened the window and looked out.
Tony was standing beside his taxi.
‘Oi, what d’ya want?’ she called out.
Tony smiled. ‘You want the taxi?’
‘No, you got the wrong house, nobody’s called a taxi here.’
He looked disappointed. ‘You sure you don’t wanna taxi?’
‘No, I don’t wanna taxi!’
Tony moved toward the house. ‘Maybe you gotta telephone I could use?’
Linda leaned over the balcony. ‘Don’t you have a radio with you in your cab?’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘A radio. Haven’t you got a radio in that taxi?’
He shrugged. ‘It’s broken. Please, I use your phone, I ring my office...’
Linda thought for a moment. She should probably tell him to get lost. Then she thought of being all alone in the big, empty house.
‘Ah, well, why not?’ She wandered through the lounge and opened the front door.
He was leaning against the doorframe. ‘I thank you. I must have got confused with the address. I’m sorry to trouble you.’ He smiled at her.
‘You speak good English! Where’d you learn it?’
‘I learn most of my English in bed,’ he replied with a wink.
Instead of being offended, Linda roared with laughter. She waved him in and, still laughing, led the way to the telephone in the hallway. She leaned against the side of the phone table as he picked up the phone.
‘You wanna drink?’
‘That would be very nice, thank you.’
Linda walked into the kitchen.
Tony picked up the phone and pretended to dial. Keeping an eye on the kitchen, he spoke rapidly in Portuguese, then replaced the receiver. He followed Linda into the kitchen. She was struggling to open the bottle of wine with a corkscrew.
‘Would you please allow me?’
Tony took the wine from her and began to open the bottle, without taking his eyes off her. She stared back at him.
‘So you’re a taxi driver, are you?’
‘Yeah, that’s right.’
‘What’s your name then?’
‘Tony.’
‘All right, Tony, I’ll get some glasses.’
He followed Linda into the lounge, carrying the bottle. She almost fell into the drinks cabinet, then bent down and brought out two wine glasses.