Mary turned off the light and slumped to the ground next to him. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
In the dim light, Rocco covered his eyes again. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘You don’t need to see a doctor, do you?’ she said, gently. ‘At least not for the reasons I thought.’
‘Leave it. Please.’
‘Why, Rocco? I thought you and Angelo were happy together.’ Her lips pursed. ‘How long has he been doing this to you?’
Eyes puffy and red, he looked up. ‘How dare you suggest that …’
He couldn’t even say the words. Perhaps admitting it, to her, would mean admitting it to himself.
She held his hand. ‘You can trust me. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to. Just tell me about it. How long has this been going on?’ He stared at her. ‘Come here,’ she said and wrapped him in her arms.
For a moment he said nothing and then his shoulders started to shudder. Mary held him firmly as his body jerked with emotion.
‘We’ll sort this out,’ she said, voice thick. ‘You’re safe now.’ Mary reached into her apron and pulled out a tissue. Rocco blew his nose and they sat facing each other.
‘It’s all such a mess. I should never have asked Angelo about the dog.’
‘But you thought he might have changed his mind. What did he have to show you this afternoon?’
‘A new trouser press. He shouted. Said maybe it would make me understand how much he liked to look smart. That he’d never agree to having some hairy animal in our home – especially a flea-bitten stray. His words, not mine.’
‘Is his appearance really that important to him?’
‘Yes. His whole image. Everyone is always telling him how great he looks. He thrives on the attention.’
‘Dante said that you used to dress more like him.’
‘I know … I’ve changed a lot.’
‘I’m not saying it as criticism,’ she added quickly. ‘But does that indicate that you and Angelo have grown apart?’
‘No! I love fashion, music, everything he does and when we first met everyone used to say we were such a good match – even though I was always the quieter one.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘I used to call him my angel.’
‘What changed?’
‘Angelo wanted me to tell my parents. We’d been living together for three years when he absolutely insisted. He felt it was a slight that I hadn’t and had always kept badgering me – asking if I was ashamed. I’d tried explaining what they were like but he threatened to leave. So as you know, I told them two years ago. I decided Angelo was right and that I couldn’t – shouldn’t have to – keep living a lie. They disowned me and looking back …’ he swallowed ‘… I think Angelo partly knew that would happen and did it to make me even more dependent on him.’
‘How so?’
Rocco blew his nose again. ‘I shouldn’t be burdening you with all this,’ he mumbled and stared at the floor.
‘Hey! Stop that! Look at me.’
He raised his head. Mary got up and switched on the light. She sat back down. ‘If it makes you feel more comfortable, do you want me to share something really embarrassing?’
She told him about her and Dante. By the end she found it difficult to speak. ‘I sat on his lap, Rocco. Threw myself at him.’
‘Don’t be so hard on yourself. It doesn’t sound like that to me.’
‘But, you see, relationships get complicated for all of us. I can’t pretend to know what you’ve been through, but often we blame ourselves when perhaps we shouldn’t.’
Rocco’s eyes glistened.
‘What do you mean about Angelo wanting you to be dependent on him?’
‘A few weeks after we started dating, I noticed he got very jealous if another man talked to me or paid me a compliment. At first I was flattered by his possessiveness. So during the first year of living together I started dressing more conservatively. He liked it and I was so in love by then, I’d do anything to keep him happy – to keep him.’ Rocco bit his lip. ‘Angelo didn’t like my friends and slowly I stopped seeing them.’
‘And at the beginning you changed your job – gave up your career in hotel management … was that his idea?’ Becoming a homebird was fine – as long as you could still spread your wings.
‘It made such good sense at the time, but looking back …’ A tear trickled down his face. ‘Eventually the violence started, if he thought I wasn’t looking after him – or respecting him – as he, the main breadwinner, deserved. Things were great for the first couple of years but the signs were there – bad arguments where he’d throw things around. Snide, hurtful comments putting me down. Slammed doors. I just ignored them. I hoped I was wrong and that the underlying tension between us would resolve itself.’
‘You must have felt so lonely.’
‘I don’t think I’d have got through it without the Rossi family.’
‘Why didn’t you report him?’
His voice shook. ‘I did. Just once. After Angelo cracked two of my ribs. A nurse at the hospital guessed what was happening. I begged her not to say anything. She persuaded me to ring the police.’ He gave a sob. ‘The sergeant laughed. Said I was a man. That I should just fight back. Asked what was wrong with me.’
‘What?’
Rocco met her gaze. ‘Domestic violence between gay men … there’s not much understanding. I’ve gone on websites that offer support, anonymously and I’m not alone. And I get why people don’t understand. It’s humiliating. That policeman was right. I’m a man just like Angelo – why can’t I fight back?’
‘Gender doesn’t matter! He’s abusing you – and manipulating you mentally. Of course you aren’t on an equal footing …’ Anger burnt through Mary’s chest, at the thought that someone could have stopped all this, months ago, if they weren’t so ignorant.
‘But what about the old friends you are still in touch with? Couldn’t they offer support?’
‘I couldn’t say anything. You see … Angelo … he’s threatened to out me publicly – said he’d accidentally reveal it to all the staff here and tell my sister.’
Words failed her.
Rocco wrung his hands. ‘He’s not really a bad person, Maria. He just had an unfortunate start. Angelo spoke once of how his dad treated his mum and put her down the whole time. She stayed with him for years. He also bullied Angelo who was overweight as a child.’ He gave a big sigh. ‘You’d think being through that would make him the opposite to his father, yet he’s turned out just the same.’
‘Don’t ever make excuses for him, Rocco. Lots of people have a bad start in life – they don’t deal with it by beating people up.’
‘You aren’t saying anything I haven’t said a million times to myself.’
‘Right.’ She cleared her throat. ‘We need to sort this.’ Just one word came into her head – despite recent events. Dante.
‘Maria. You promised, remember, you wouldn’t do anything I wasn’t happy with.’ Beads of perspiration appeared on his forehead.
‘And I meant that.’ She took both his hands. ‘Do you trust me?’
‘Yes. Yes, I do.’
‘Dante, Rocco. Dante will know what to do. You know that. He is calm. Strong. He has his policing experience.’
Rocco gulped. ‘He will think me so weak. Such a coward. That I can’t stand up to another man. I will lose any respect he has for me.’
‘No, you won’t,’ she said, firmly. ‘And Angelo is not just another man. He is your partner. Your lover. That makes things a hundred times more complicated. Just look at your bruises. You know this cannot continue.’
He stared at her. Let go of her hands. Put on his glasses.
‘Right?’
He nodded.
‘Okay. I’ll be back in a minute. Unless you want to come back into the restaurant and—’
He shook his head vigorously.
Heart thumping, she left the pantry, red-hot anger coursing through her veins. Capable, efficient, good-hearted Rocco had been reduced to a scared shell of a man. No wonder he was so desperate to hold on to his job and couldn’t tolerate Sarah as a perceived threat. His time spent at the restaurant provided a lifeline.
Mary headed past the bar and hatch. Alfonso was wiping down liquor bottles and muttered something about Lucia having come down with a nasty cold – Natale was still upstairs. Mary stared at the hatch but all she saw was Enzo, cleaning worktops, a signal that he would soon head off in his car. Perhaps Dante had gone to bed early. She gazed outside. Margherita. She’d forgotten all about her.
Mary walked out into the humid night air and stopped with surprise. Dante and Margherita were chatting quietly together, over limoncellos, like two old friends. She headed over.
‘Dante?’
‘Mary? Everything okay?’
It never ceased to surprise her how much Dante could pick up from a tone of voice.
‘This is … sorry, I don’t know your name,’ he said to Margherita.
So she hadn’t introduced herself.
‘I’m really sorry to interrupt,’ said Mary, ‘but I need you out the back immediately. In the pantry.’ Her face flushed.
‘Right away.’ He stood up and bowed in Margherita’s direction. ‘Please excuse me but do stay and finish your drink. On the house.’
‘Grazie mille,’ she said and looked at Mary. ‘Can I do anything to help?’
Mary shook her head. ‘No. Thank you. Dante should be able to sort it.’
Wondering briefly what they had been talking about, Mary headed back to the pantry, followed closely by Dante who knew the way without his stick. She led him to the back where Rocco was. Dante’s brow knitted when they stopped.
‘What is it? Have we been burgled? Do we have mice?’
Rocco let out a sob and Dante tilted his head. ‘Who’s there? On the ground?’ He knelt down and reached out an arm. He touched Rocco’s shoulder and the waiter flinched.
‘Dante … I …’ Rocco looked up at Mary. She understood. It was too much for him to explain. She tapped on Dante’s shoulder. He got back up and they moved a couple of metres away.
As she explained, Mary didn’t need to see how angry he was. His body language was clear in the dim light. How his body stiffened and those strong hands flexed. How his jaw tightened and he let out angry exclamations of disbelief.
‘You did the right thing, to get me,’ he said and paced up and down for a few minutes. Then he went back to Rocco. Dante reached down and opened his hands. Rocco put his in Dante’s and the pizza-maker pulled him up. His fingers curled gently around the waiter’s shoulders. ‘We can sort this. Together. Those are the last bruises you will ever get.’
Rocco’s body shook. ‘But how? If Angelo finds out that I’ve told you he’ll go crazy. I’ll have to move out but I haven’t got anywhere else to go.’
‘Not if he finds out but when. We are going to your flat right now to confront him. Just you and me,’ he said.
Rocco gasped. ‘No, Dante. You don’t know what he’s like.’
‘I’ll come, too,’ said Mary.
Dante shook his head. ‘No need. I’ve dealt with enough bullies in my time.’ Gently he squeezed Rocco’s shoulders. ‘Whilst I chat to Angelo you pack a bag. Get all your essentials. Until you get things sorted, you can stay at my new flat.’
‘But what about you? That’s your new home,’ he stuttered.
‘I have a room here and can delay moving out. The flat is yours for as long as you need it, Rocco. We won’t give Angelo the address. He won’t have keys. You’ll be safe and have the space to think things through.’
Dante leant forward and gave Rocco a quick hug. After a few seconds he stepped back. ‘You are one of the family, Rocco. We look after our own. You have always been loyal to us and so strong over the last two years. This is not charity or pity – I am simply paying you back. Now a Rossi is being strong for you.’
Rocco’s voice wavered. ‘You don’t think it weak that I couldn’t stand up to another man?’
Dante snorted. ‘No. I’ve come across enough bullies in the police force who verbally abuse younger officers, to know gender is irrelevant when it comes to this sort of thing.’ He shrugged. ‘You are one of the most robust people I know. We couldn’t have got through Mamma dying without you here, running the restaurant day in day out, not asking questions but being there with a coffee or pat on the arm. You are solid, Rocco. By the sounds of it Angelo is a sick man. Anyone else would have found your position as difficult if … if they were as much in love.’
Rocco straightened his glasses. Looked a little less hunched. He followed Dante out of the pantry. Mary called them a taxi and ten minutes later stood under the canopy as she watched the car drive away.
‘You okay?’ said a voice.
You still here? Mary nearly replied. What was Margherita doing? Why hadn’t she told Dante who she was?
Margherita drained her glass. ‘That man looked shaken up. Don’t tell me – Dante’s playing the hero?’
Mary pursed her lips. ‘Why are you here? Why didn’t you tell Dante your name?’
‘You had such a high opinion of him, I thought I’d find out for myself.’
‘And?’
‘I told him I was visiting and owned a restaurant of my own. We chatted business.’
‘So, you see for yourself – he’s just a human who did the best that he could.’
Margherita stood up. ‘I’m going now. Enjoy your last week on the Lombardi List. This run-down place doesn’t stand a chance. The canopy could do with replacing – it’s ingrained with ugly nicotine stains. Those steam jets don’t keep outside guests cool enough and the grind isn’t right on your coffee.’ She took out her phone. ‘Pizzeria Dolce Vita needs to move with the times, Maria, and it can’t do that in a week. I can see that the last two difficult years you talked of have taken their toll, indeed.’
With that she dialled a number and walked away giving a taxi firm her address. Mary gazed around the restaurant, looking for faults, but suddenly felt exhausted. Worry about Rocco and Dante filled her mind and for once, the Lombardi List didn’t seem so important.
What if Angelo did go crazy and hit out? Dante wouldn’t be able to see each move. Yet, deep down, she had confidence that he would cope. There had been a still determination sweep over him when he’d heard about what had been happening and Rocco grew in stature as he realised Dante still respected him and understood. Between the two of them, she had a feeling that everything would turn out okay.