I was thinking that if I had to write a book that tells the story of my life I would call the chapter on you ‘Diary of a Hatred’. Anyhow, I have to learn not to hate you. I have to learn not to hate you when your money arrives and when you call me to find out how it’s all going. I have hated you for too long, with no remorse. I’m sick and tired of it.
So thank you once again but from now on even if you feel the urge to help me out, repress it. You are the master of repression and silence.
Your daughter,
Olivia
I read it three times. I hadn’t realised that Olivia hated Dad so much. I knew they didn’t get on, but he was her father, after all. I mean, give him a break! If you didn’t know Dad you might think he wasn’t that nice. He looked like one of those men who takes himself too seriously, as though they carry the weight of the world on their shoulders. But if you met him at the beach in summer or on the ski slope he would be very polite and nice. Anyway, Olivia was the one who had decided not to see him any more. She was the nasty one who had ganged up on him with the dentist. Dad was doing his best to rebuild their relationship.
‘“Diary of a Hatred” . . . That’s crazy. And what does she need all that money for anyway?’ I said. I’d done the right thing not giving her mine. She didn’t deserve it. And she’d even had photos taken in the nude.
I threw all the stuff back inside the box and put it back behind the door.
It must have been about three a.m. and I was floating in the dark, headphones on, playing Soul Reaver, when I had the feeling that there had been a noise in the cellar. I took the headphones off and slowly turned my head.
Someone was knocking at the window.
I jumped backwards and a tingle slid down my spine like I had hairs on my back and somebody was caressing them. I swallowed a scream.
Who could it be?
Whoever it was wouldn’t stop knocking.
The windows reflected the bluish glare of the TV screen and me, standing up, terrified.
I tried to swallow. My head was spinning in fear. Inhaling and exhaling, I had to keep calm. There was no danger. There were bars on the window and nobody could slip through them.
I turned on the torch and shakily pointed it at the window.
Behind the glass Olivia was gesturing to me to open up.
‘Fuck!’ I snorted. I went to the window and threw it open. Icy air slipped in. ‘What do you want now?’
Her eyes were red and she looked really tired. ‘Fuck. I was knocking for half an hour.’
‘I had my headphones on. What is it?’
‘I need hospitality, little brother.’
I pretended I didn’t understand. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean that I don’t have anywhere to sleep.’
‘And you want to sleep here?’
‘Well done.’
I shook my head. ‘No way.’
‘Why?’
‘Because. This is my cellar. I’m here. There’s only room for one person.’
She looked at me in silence, like she thought I was joking.
‘I’m sorry, that’s the way it is. I really can’t . . .’
She shook her head disbelievingly. ‘It’s freezing cold. It must be minus five out here. I don’t know where the fuck to go. I’m asking you a favour.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘You know what? You’re your father’s son.’
‘Our father,’ I corrected.
She pulled out a packet of Marlboro and lit one. ‘Can you explain to me why I can’t stay here tonight? What’s the problem?’
What should I say to her? I was getting really angry. I could feel it pushing up against my diaphragm. ‘You’ll mess everything up. There isn’t any room. It’s dangerous. I’m here undercover. I can’t open the door for you. Go somewhere else. In fact, I’ve got an idea. Ring the buzzer upstairs. They’ll put you up in the guest room. You’ll be much more comfortable . . .’
‘I’d rather sleep on a park bench in Villa Borghese than sleep with those two tossers.’
Who did she think she was? What had Dad done to deserve such a daughter? I kicked the wall. ‘Please . . . I’m begging you . . . everything is just perfect in here. I’ve organised everything and now you arrive and mess it all up . . .’ I realised I had started to whine and I hated whining.
‘All right . . . What’s your name? Lorenzo. Lorenzo, listen carefully. I’ve been good to you. This morning you asked me not to say anything and I didn’t say anything. I didn’t ask you anything. I don’t want to know. That’s your business. I am asking you a favour. If you come out for just a moment and open the main door I’ll come in. Nobody will see us.’
‘No. I swore I wouldn’t come out.’
She looked at me. ‘Who did you swear that to?’
‘To myself.’
She took a drag of her cigarette. ‘Fine. You know what I’ll do? I’ll start ringing the buzzer and I’ll tell them you’re down in the cellar. What do you think of that?’
‘You wouldn’t . . .’
A smug little smile came appeared on her face. ‘You don’t think so? You don’t know me . . .’ She moved towards the middle of the garden and in a fairly loud voice said, ‘Listen up, everyone! Can you hear me? A boy is hiding in the cellar. It’s Lorenzo Cuni, who’s pretending to be away on ski week . . . Hello . . .’
I threw my arms against the bars and I begged, ‘Shut up! Shut up, please.’
She looked at me in amusement. ‘So, are you going to let me in or do I have to wake up the whole building?’
I couldn’t believe how sly she was. She’d completely fucked me over. ‘All right, but you have to leave tomorrow morning. Promise?’
‘I promise.’
‘I’m coming. Go round to the main door.’
I ran out in such a rush that I only noticed when I was halfway along the corridor that I wasn’t wearing shoes. I had to be super-quick. Luckily it was late. My parents were often out in the evening, but not until three in the morning.
Imagine if when I open the main door I run straight into my parents on their way in. I would look so stupid, I thought as I jumped up the stairs two at a time and dodged past the porter’s flat. At night there was no need to worry about the Silver Monkey. His wasn’t sleep but a sort of hibernation, he’d explained to me, and his disrupted sleeping pattern was all the fault of the gypsies. One night, about three years ago, they had entered his house and sprayed an anaesthetic in his face. With all the houses nearby full of money, paintings and jewellery those morons had broken into the Silver Monkey’s flat. They took a pair of binoculars and a radio. Anyway, the poor guy had slept for three days straight. They hadn’t even been able to keep him awake in the hospital emergency ward. He explained to me that since that night he always felt sleepy and when he did go to bed he slept so deeply that ‘if an earthquake hits, I’m fucked. What the hell did those gypsy bastards spray me with?’
I crossed the foyer. The marble was cold beneath my feet.
I opened the main door and she was standing there, waiting for me.
‘Thanks, little brother,’ she said.
6
Olivia sat down on the settee. She took off her boots, crossed her legs and lit up another cigarette. ‘It really is a nice little spot here. Very cosy.’
‘Thanks,’ I answered as if it were my house.
‘Have you got anything to drink?’
‘There’s some fruit juice, some warm Coke and water.’
‘Don’t you have any beer?’
‘No.’
‘Some juice then.’ She ordered as if she were in a café.
I brought her the bottle and she took a big swig and wiped her mouth on the sleeve of her cardigan. ‘This is the first quiet moment of my day.’ She rubbed her eyes and puffed out a cloud of smoke. ‘I need to rest.’ She let her head fall back against the settee and sat there, just staring at the ceiling.
I watched her silently not knowing what to say. Maybe
she didn’t feel like talking, or she didn’t consider me someone she could chat with. So much the better.
I lay down and began reading, but I couldn’t concentrate. I studied her from behind the book. She had the cigarette in her mouth and her eyes were closed. The ash was growing longer but she didn’t tap it off. I was worried that it would fall on her and burn her. Maybe she was sleeping.
‘Are you cold? Do you want a blanket?’ I asked her just to see.
It took her ages to answer me. With her eyes closed she said, ‘Yes, thank you.’
‘These are the Countess’s . . . They’re old and they smell a bit.’
‘The Countess?’
‘Yeah, she lived in the house before we did. Seems like Dad bought the house and he didn’t even kick her out. He waited for her to die. To give her a hand. All this stuff is from her house.’
‘Ah. He bought the residual life estate.’
‘What?’
‘You don’t know what residual life estate is?’
‘No.’
‘It’s when someone who doesn’t have any relatives or any more money sells their house below market value, but can go on living there until they die . . . It’s not easy to explain.’ She laughed to herself. ‘Wait. I’ll explain it better . . .’ She was speaking slowly, like she couldn’t find the words. ‘Imagine you’re old and you’ve got nobody, and you get fuck all from your pension. So what do you do? You sell your house with you in it and then when you die the house and everything in it goes to the person who bought it . . . Get it now?’
‘Yes.’ I hadn’t understood. ‘For how long, though?’
‘It depends when you die. A day or ten years. You might sell the residual life estate and live for another twenty years.’
‘How come?’
‘I don’t know . . . But I think that if people are hoping you’ll die . . .’
‘So if you buy the house you hope the old lady dies quickly? That’s not nice.’
‘Clever boy. So Dad . . . bought your . . . house when the . . .’ And she stopped. I waited for her to finish but I saw that her arms had flopped to the side like she’d been shot in the chest. The cigarette, hanging from her lips, had burned itself out, and the ashes had fallen onto her neck.
I crept towards her and put my ear up against her face. She was breathing.
I took the stub out of her mouth and then I got a blanket and put it over her.
When I woke the sun was already high in a blue cloudless sky. The palm tree shook, moved by the wind. It was a perfect day for skiing in Cortina.
Olivia was curled up on the settee and was sleeping with her face squashed up against a grubby cushion. She must have been really tired.
‘Let’s leave her be a little longer,’ I said to myself and I remembered my mobile was turned off. As soon as I turned it on I got three texts. Two from my mother. She was worried and wanted me to call her as soon as we reached a place where there was reception. One from my father. It said that Mum was worried and to call her as soon as I had reception again.
I had breakfast and then I settled down to play Soul Reaver.
Olivia woke up an hour later.
I kept playing but every now and then I sneaked a look at her. I wanted to make it clear to her that I was tough, someone who didn’t need anyone.
She looked liked she’d been chewed up and spat out by a monster who had found her too bitter to eat. It took her half an hour to sit up. She had cushion marks on her cheek and forehead. She kept rubbing her eyes and moving her tongue around inside her mouth. Finally she let out one word: ‘Water.’
I brought some to her. She put the bottle to her mouth and drank deeply. Then, wincing, she began touching her arms and her legs. ‘Everything hurts. It’s like I’ve got barbed wire inside my muscles.’
I put my hands up. ‘You must have got the flu. I don’t have any medicine here. You should go to the chemist. If you go to the square . . .’
‘I haven’t got the strength to leave.’
‘What? You promised you’d leave this morning.’
Olivia rubbed her hand across her forehead. ‘Is this how they brought you up? They’ve taught you to be a complete wanker. Although it’s not just about upbringing – there must be something twisted and wrong inside of you.’
I didn’t speak. I kept my head down, unable to answer. What the hell did she want from me? She wasn’t even my sister. I didn’t know her. I didn’t annoy anyone, so why did she have to annoy me? She had come into my den under false pretences and now she didn’t want to leave.
She struggled to stand up, then she got down on her knees with a grimace of pain and looked straight at me. Her pupils were so wide and black that the grey of her irises was hardly noticeable. ‘Look, if you stay hidden away in here, minding your own business, it doesn’t mean that you’re a good person. It’s just a cop-out.’
It was as if she had read my mind.
‘I’m sorry . . . There’s not enough food for both of us. That’s the only reason. And you have to be quiet here. And then . . . No. No way. I have to stay here by myself,’ I stammered, squeezing my hands into fists.
She put her hands up as if she surrendered. ‘Fine, I’ll leave. You’re a real wanker.’
‘Exactly.’
‘And you’re out of your mind.’
‘Exactly.’
‘And you stink.’
I sniffed under my arm. ‘What do I care? I can stink as much as I want. And look who’s talking. You stink too . . .’
Right then the phone rang.
It was my mother.
I pretended I couldn’t hear it, hoping it would stop, but it didn’t.
Olivia looked at me. ‘What? Are you not going to answer it?’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because.’
It didn’t stop. Mum must be really angry. I could see her, sitting on her bed, huffing and puffing. I snapped into action, jumping over the furniture to reach the phone. I answered. ‘Mum.’
‘Lorenzo. Is everything okay?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’ve called you a hundred times.’
‘Did you not get my text?’
‘Did you think that was enough? You should have called me before you went up to the mountain.’
‘I know . . . I’m sorry, but we decided at the very last minute. I was just about to call you.’
‘You had me worried. How are you?’
‘Fine. Just fine.’
‘I have to talk to Alessia’s mother.’
‘She can’t talk now. Call back later.’
She was silent for a second, then she blew up. ‘That’s it, Lorenzo. You either let me speak to Alessia’s mother or I’ll call the other kids’ parents.’ Her voice was hard and she was holding back from yelling. ‘I’ve had enough of this story. What are you hiding from me?’
She had me cornered. I couldn’t get away with it any more. I looked at Olivia. ‘Here she is . . . Hang on while I go and get her. I’ll see if she can come to the phone.’ I put the phone down and I got off the window sill. I sat down next to Olivia and whispered in her ear, ‘Please, you have to help me . . . I’m begging you. You have to pretend to be Alessia’s mother. Mum thinks I’m skiing in Cortina with this girl called Alessia Roncato who invited me there for ski week. You have to pretend to be Alessia’s mother. Tell her I’m fine and that everything’s going fine. Oh, and it’s really important you tell her that I’m nice.’
A wicked smile curved my half-sister’s mouth. ‘No chance . . .’
‘Please.’
‘I’d rather die.’
I took her by the wrist. ‘If she finds out I haven’t gone skiing I’m dead. They’ll send me to the psychologist again.’
She shook herself free of my grip. ‘No way . . . No way am I helping out a selfish little shit who’s kicking me out of his flea-ridden cellar.’
What a bitch. She’d fucked me over again.
‘Okay, fine. If y
ou talk to her, you can stay.’
She picked up her boots. ‘Who says I want to stay here?’
‘I swear I’ll do anything you want.’
‘On your knees.’ And she pointed to the floor.
‘On my knees?’
‘On your knees.’
I obeyed.
‘Repeat. I swear on my parents’ lives that I will be Olivia Cuni’s slave . . .’
‘Come on, she’s still on the phone . . . Go on,’ I whimpered in distress.
She was calm. ‘Say it.’
She was killing me. ‘I swear on my parents’ lives that I will be Olivia Cuni’s slave . . .’
‘For the rest of my life . . .’
‘For the rest of my life?! Are you crazy?’ I looked up at the ceiling and snorted. ‘For the rest of my life.’
‘And I will always be kind and generous to her.’
‘And I will always be kind and generous to her. Now, please . . .’
She got up, wincing with pain. ‘Does your mother know this woman?’
‘No.’
‘What’s the daughter’s name?’
‘Alessia. Alessia Roncato.’
She walked like an old arthritic woman and it was a struggle for her to reach the window. She must really not have been well. But when she spoke her voice was bright. ‘Hello, Mrs Cuni! Good morning. How is everything?’
I began biting my hand in anxiety.
She sounded so happy to be speaking to my mother.
‘Of course . . . of course . . . Yes, of course. Lorenzo told me. Please forgive me for not having called you myself . . . No, it’s my fault, but we’ve just been so busy. You know how things are up in the mountains . . . My pleasure . . . My pleasure . . . Thank you, it’s been a pleasure to have him with us. He’s such a well-behaved boy . . . Of course. Anyhow, everything is fine. Snow? Is there much snow?’ She looked at me unsure of what to say.