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‘Not long to wait, Sal,’ I whispered.
Sitting up, I rubbed at my eyes to clear my vision and with my stomach growling, I looked down gratefully to the leather satchel I’d dropped beside me in the moonlit darkness. I was pleased I’d curbed my impatience to get here and had stopped to grab some food on the way out. At already six foot two and still growing I was always hungry, so I’d shoved some food and bottle of water in the satchel, before I’d jumped out of my bedroom window and kicked my bike into life.
As I tipped out the contents onto the flat stone I’d been using as a plate for the previous couple of days, I thought back to a few days before.
Watching in the shadows from across the street, I’d seen as he arrived at the Sanctuary of Our Lady of Polsi with his family. They’d looked picture perfect as they stopped to speak to the priest and a few of the monks, and my anger had grown as I studied them all and registered that he had everything, while his actions had left me with nothing. Him, in his expensive Italian suit, looking every bit the head of his family. Walking alongside him was his beautiful English wife, carrying a baby girl in her arms. I knew enough about Rosemary Giordano. Her family, the Thomases, were London’s East End royalty; gangsters who had once worked alongside the Krays. Oh yeah, without a doubt he had all the right connections in the U.K. to enable him to run his business and become more successful than he deserved. Even after giving birth to the five Giordano bastards, she still looked good enough to fuck. I’d made the sign of the cross over my chest as I’d prayed to Our Lady that her cunt was stretched, and that sinking his cock into her now felt like fucking a bucket of grease.
I’d continued to watch them as Our Lady was paraded through San Luca. As they’d smiled and joined in with the throwing of grain and flowers into Our Lady’s path, he’d given himself away when he’d looked for his eldest daughter and taken hold of her hand. At first, I couldn’t work out if he was taking hold of her hand because he wanted her there beside him, or if he was making sure she remained precisely where she should be. Standing there, concealed by the exultation and rapture all around me, I could hardly contain my excitement when I understood it was both things.
Giordano had shown me his feelings for his daughter, and my plan had formulated.
Finally, I’d understood how I was going to enact my revenge.
I felt a grin spread across my face at the memory.
Moving suddenly, after needing to do something with the infusion of adrenaline my thoughts had triggered, I sat up and pulled a jewel-handled knife from the back of my heavy bike boots. Leaning back onto one elbow, I took a bite from a large tomato and started to slice the bread and cheese, while I waited right under Alessandro Giordano’s nose, but out of his sight and control.
It didn’t take long for my patience to be rewarded.
The daughter they called Serafina, the one I’d already worked out felt more comfortable being on the edge of her sizeable family, found her way to the gate that led down from the terrace to the sea, just like she had the previous two days. After being granted permission and giving her promise to stay well away from the water, she flew down the path to find her sanctuary directly beneath where I was hiding, just as the swift I’d been feeding from my breakfast swooped down to peck at the crumbs I’d purposefully left on the stone.
My eyes went from the swift to the girl.
‘Taking flight again, little bird?’ I aimed the whispered question at the small, brown-haired girl as she walked on the rocks at the base of the cliff.
One day, when the time was right, I’d steal her right from under his nose. But not yet, she was still a child, and although I hadn’t been granted the innocence of childhood, I still believed that children should be left to grow and live in peace. But when she was older—well, then she’d be prime for picking; adults were fair game. I allowed my eyes to feast on her childish enjoyment at being allowed to escape her normal confines and smiled as I heard her laughter travel up to me on the already warm breeze. Her laughter encouraged a warm, unrecognisable feeling in my gut to unravel and, in turn, a smile spread over my face as I watched her. No, I wasn’t ready to destroy her just yet.
My watch vibrated on my wrist, letting me know that the Giordano soldiers were about to change shift and for now, my time was up. Snatching up my knife, I placed it back into its sheath inside the back of my boot, grabbed at my satchel and moved back towards my bike. Deliberately, I kicked some of the loose rock and stood tall just as the rubble attracted Serafina’s attention.
With my satchel over my shoulder, I ran both of my hands through my hair and stared at her. With her turquoise eyes staring back at me, I turned and moved away. At last, I reached where I’d ditched my bike earlier, safe in the knowledge I was no longer on Giordano’s land when I kicked it into life and sped away.
CHAPTER TWO
SERAFINA
Ten Years Old
Four Years Later
‘Can I go now please, Papa?’
‘Really, Serafina, why can’t you stay put?’ My mum’s tone of voice showed how irritable she was. I knew why, we all knew why. Rosemary Giordano, or as my papa called her, Rosa, had just lost what would have been her seventh child, after losing her sixth a year and a half before. She was angry at life and, feeling her pain, I couldn’t blame her. She loved the five of us, but to her a new baby meant she still had purpose, when everything else in our lives was catered for.
I lifted my head up from digging the front of my Converse into the crevice between the tiles on our large terrace and looked back at my mum. Offering her a smile, I pleaded with her silently to allow me to take my daily escape from what I already knew was a life filled with plenty, yet so constrictive we rarely had time to appreciate how lucky we were.
‘Leave her be, Rosa,’ my papa interjected, after raising his eyes above The Times newspaper he had flown in daily. I watched as he took hold of her hand and pressed the back of it momentarily to his lips before he placed their conjoined hands back down on his lap.
‘I just love it down there,’ I offered up as a reason.
Somewhere behind me, two of my brothers started shouting at each other.
‘It’s peaceful, isn’t it?’ Papa grinned at me, before demanding that Zeno and Alessio should stop whatever they were doing.
‘It is…’ I blushed, trying to conceal my half-truth from my mum’s discerning eyes. Quickly, I flicked my eyes over at her. Luckily for me, I knew her recent miscarriage had knocked her truth-seeking radar off kilter a little. Refusing to allow her to look too deeply inside me, I looked back once again at my papa. ‘But it’s also beautiful.’
‘Ahhh, Serafina, you are a daughter to be proud of.’ His rich Italian accent, which seemed to deepen with each day we spent back in the country of his birth, wrapped itself around me, loving me with its embrace. I smiled at him as I watched him tidy his prized paper and after folding it neatly where the creases were, he placed it on the small table next to him. ‘It makes me happy that I have at least one child who appreciates her Italian roots.’
With my mum’s eyes still staring at me enquiringly, I resisted the urge to bite into the side of my cheek. I already understood how it would give away that I wasn’t being totally truthful. I loved the beach our villa sat above; it really was beautiful. The sand was fine and an off white in colour. The sea was a crystal-clear blue and on some days the horizon wasn’t identifiable as the sky and sea blended seamlessly together. Our beach was encased by the dark rocks that had been weathered over the centuries by the wind and rain that came ashore during late winter. I understood what truly breathtaking meant and this place was most definitely it. At ten I was still young, but I had often been told that due to my intelligence and caring nature, I acted and spoke as though I was much older than my years.
