“It did,” Kate says, tartly. “But it fell through. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to gloat.”
Theo folds his arms. “And when exactly was this?”
But I don’t listen to her answer. Because I’m worried about Mabel, whose crying is becoming louder.
I stand up and go over to put my arms around her. And she crumples into me.
Chapter 34
I’ve hardly stood still all day.
First thing this morning, I showed Luisa and her team the hole Archie fell down. Part of me worried we might have committed some kind of crime by poking around on what’s effectively an archaeological site, but all the diggers were thrilled and went down the ladder to explore. They didn’t just find a shaft but a whole chamber, although they’ve said they need to call in specialized structural engineers to check it’s safe before they do any further exploration. Luisa told us they were planning to move onto this section of the site next week, but we didn’t mention this to Archie: we told him he was a hero for finding a secret room. He lapped up the glory and loved showing everyone his crutches.
After this, we set up Archie with all his action figures on a rug on a shaded section of the lawn, while I supervised the cleaning of the new kitchen. It’s stunning, with maple wood units, paprika red tiles, counter tops in Carrara marble, and a central island with a breakfast bar and three stools. It still has the same stone floors, together with the chestnut beams and big fireplace—although the soot has been blasted off the back and the witch’s cauldron relegated to the wine store—but is a much more sociable space, with a much better flow. Not to mention a built-in double oven, a dishwasher, and a fridge freezer with enough space not just for our food and drink, but Mabel’s and my skincare products.
Once everything was clean, we dismantled the temporary kitchen and moved down all the crockery, pots, pans and appliances. The four of us chatted as we worked, and Theo did bring up the subject of what we’d found out about Kate, but neither Mabel nor Callum wanted to go there. All they’d say was that Mabel had found out by mistake the day before we flew here and immediately told Callum. Archie had no idea—and still doesn’t, which is how we’ve agreed things will stay.
At four o’clock, our work is done and I switch my attention onto the job I was hoping to do yesterday afternoon, before Archie had his accident: I’m going to Lucca to see if I can find a jeweler that wants to buy Arnaldo’s cigarette case.
When I first had the idea of selling something to pay Giuseppe’s mounting bills, I ruled out anything of sentimental value. But then Angelika mentioned that Wilf hated Arnaldo smoking—so I decided it would actually be perfectly appropriate to sell his cigarette case. It was quite dirty when I found it, but I cleaned and polished it and it looks like it’s in perfect condition. I’ve no idea how old it is but the clasp still works and the elastic strap to keep the cigarettes in place is—miraculously—still intact. Theo and I did search online for antique gold cigarette cases but found such a wide range—selling for such a range of prices—it was impossible to gauge how much Arnaldo’s is worth. There is some kind of hallmark on it but it doesn’t mean anything to either of us.
I tell the kids my plan but downplay the extent of my money worries—I just say I’m looking to cover a few unforeseen expenses. Theo needs to stay at the house to look after Archie and is going to teach him how to get better at walking on his crutches. I was going to ask Callum and Mabel if they wanted to come with me but I sense they’re still hurting from last night’s conversation with Kate. Until, that is, Callum appears in the doorway and swaps his sliders for trainers.
“I’m coming with you,” he announces.
My heart gives a little leap. “Oh, fab. But are you sure?”
He fastens his shoelaces and springs onto his feet. “Yeah, incase you need backup. I don’t want anyone taking advantage of you.”
I grin and Theo pats him on the back. “Thanks, Cal.”
During the drive, I tell Callum I’ve found three jewelers that, according to their websites, buy secondhand gold. The first is situated on Lucca’s main shopping street, Via Fillungo. When we arrive outside, we see it has a beautiful old front, with ornate carved wooden display cases and the shop name in gold lettering. I already know the business was established in 1655 and claims to be the oldest jewelry store in Italy. Plus, an ancestor of the family that owns it apparently set the jewels in the crown of the sculpture of Jesus in Lucca’s cathedral. But I didn’t look up any pictures of the shop and didn’t expect it to be so grand. I feel the excitement leak out of me. They’re not going to be interested in my little cigarette case. It probably isn’t even real gold.
“Come on,” says Callum. “Shall we do it?”
I don’t have the heart to let him down, so open the door.
We step inside, under vaulted ceilings painted with frescoes and hanging with crystal chandeliers. There’s a checked marble floor and more ornately carved display cases, these ones lined with plush blue velvet. In them stands a dazzling array of antique jewels, silver and gold.
“This is going to be embarrassing,” I whisper to Callum. “Let’s abort mission.”
“Buonasera!”calls an elderly man from behind the counter. He has white, receding hair and a moustache and is wearing a plum-colored suit and leaning on an antique silver-topped cane.“Posso aiutarla?”
“Go on,” says Callum, giving me a nudge in the small of my back. “I’m right behind you.”
“Buonasera,”I begin. Then I slip into English. “I’m looking to sell something. But you know what, you’re probably not interested.”
“I am interested in all beautiful things,” the man corrects me, as he walks towards us. “Please, show me.”
I approach the counter and hand over the case. The man rests his cane on the side and pulls out some kind of big x-ray gun thathe presses onto the gold and fires, giving himself a reading. He also weighs it on a set of digital scales and touches a magnet to it. Then he holds it up to the light, turning it a few times and peering in to examine the detail. He does this for so long that my eyes wander to the jewelry in the display cases. I spot an M on a chain that reminds me of the S Mum used to wear and run up and down the chain as she was talking.
I clear my throat. “So what do you think?” I ask the man.
“Bello,”he says, approvingly.“Bellissimo.”His face may be wrinkled and marked with liver spots but his eyes are bright and engaged.
I lean on the marble counter. “What, so you like it?”
“Yes, very much.” He runs his finger over the edges and tests the clasp. “Cases like this were typically given by wealthy families to their sons on important birthdays. In Italy, the eighteenth birthday is more important than the twenty-first.”
