Page 88 of Winter With You

Russian meant this was an emergency and she raced forward, picking out her niece’s tawny hair and red coat up ahead, standing very close to a large, tall man.

‘Oi! Get away from her!’ Gabriella screamed, side-stepping shoppers and barrelling through the throngs towards her niece.

This was not happening. Not in a million years. Not on her watch. She grabbed a bottle from the counter and charged.

52

ATTICA CORRECTIONAL FACILITY

The place had a smell and it wasn’t anything like the joyful scent of the fabrics in La Façon. Here it was disinfectant and body odour, the two fighting each other for dominance. Steffi had given Luca some gum before he entered the penitentiary and then just as quickly had grabbed it back remembering it was contraband. Apparently the inmates could use it to jam locks and, if he was caught with it, his visit would be cancelled. So, here he was, the stench hitting his senses in this soulless visiting room where tables were spaced apart and other family members looked far more comfortable with this procedure than he was. Finally, a door opened at the end of the room and men in matching jumpsuits began filing into the area, slowly, guarded, until Luca saw one he recognised. Il Babbo. His father. Renzo Marcello.

Luca felt like he was stuck to his chair, like he was fourteen years old all over again about to be admonished for a bad report card. His father looked entirely the same but absolutely different all at once. Older, greying at the temples and in his eyebrows, his posture a little hunched… yet he smiled.

‘Luca,’ Renzo said, approaching the table, the eyes of the guards piercing the stinking atmosphere.

Luca didn’t know what to say. ‘Hello’ didn’t feel appropriate. He stayed unmoving.

‘Get up and hug me,’ Renzo said. ‘There is this one opportunity. But only if you do it fast.’

Before Luca had a chance to do anything, one of the guards spoke. ‘Sit down, Marcello. You know the rules.’

‘Yeah, OK, Mickey,’ Renzo said, waving the comment away. He sat down opposite Luca, the square of table between them. It had been three years without communication. What did you say after three years?

‘Hey, stop looking like that.’ His father clicked his fingers in front of Luca’s face. ‘Eyes on me, not the décor that needs a do-over.’

‘How is someone supposed to look in jail?’ Luca asked him.

‘The ones who don’t have overnight accommodation, fucking more grateful than you look right now.’

Luca nodded. ‘Is that why you wanted me to come here? Why you got Ronnie to put the pressure on? For a pity party?’

‘No,’ he replied.

‘Then what the fuck was it all for?’ He gritted his teeth. ‘You got someone to hurt one of my clients, you roughed up my friend, you broke into my boss’s house and⁠—’

‘Keep your voice down, Luca.’

‘Why?’

‘Because walls have ears. Even these ones.’ He paused. ‘Actually, especially these ones.’

‘So what? I have nothing to hide.’

‘And regarding these “issues”, neither do I.’

‘Bullshit.’

‘Ronnie told me what you did,’ Renzo carried on. ‘Going psycho in the bar. I didn’t know whether to feel proud or afraid.’

‘Maybe both,’ Luca bit back. ‘So unless there is a real reason for this visit I will tell you how it’s going to go from now on. You get Ronnie and whoever else to stay away from the family and the people I care about and⁠—’

‘Luca,’ Renzo began. ‘I know it was you who told the police everything they needed to put me in this place.’

Luca’s heart dropped to his sneakers, a freezing chill shooting up his spine. ‘I… don’t know what you mean.’

His father couldn’t know, could he?

Renzo sighed. ‘We don’t need to play a game. The time for doing that is long passed.’