heavy black of mourning, and . . .
‘Oh God!’ she burst out.
Kit was walking across the road, moving toward one of the Danieri limousines. Bella’s daughter Bianca had already departed, with her youngest son Fabio. But Vittore the eldest was still there, just getting into a limo with his mother.
‘Fuck,’ said Rob.
Ruby threw her door open. ‘Stop him, Rob, will you? Quick!’
Rob was already out of the car, moving around the front of it. Ruby followed, her heart in her mouth. If Kit reached the Danieri party, there would be massive trouble. The situation was a tinderbox, ready to blow: one spark, and all Bella’s efforts to defuse it would come to nothing.
Kit moved fast, even though he seemed to be weaving a little, unsteady. By the time Rob caught up with him, he was standing in front of the Danieri limousine.
‘So that bastard Tito’s planted at last,’ said Kit loudly, with a laugh. ‘And not a fucking minute too soon.’
A gasp went up from some of the remaining guests at Kit’s words. They turned and stared at this crazed-looking interloper. Ruby hurried up; Rob quickly put himself in between Kit and Vittore. Bella, black-veiled, inscrutable, stood there unmoving. Vittore, blank-eyed with hate, looked like he wanted to do Kit extreme damage.
Kit was swaying on his feet. He was scruffy, unshaven, his tie askew, his shirt collar grubby.
‘You’re drunk,’ Ruby realized, saying it aloud.
Kit turned his attention to her. ‘Mother dear,’ he said, as if seeing her there for the first time. ‘Hello! I am, in fact, royally pissed. Because I’ve been celebrating the funeral of one of the worst scumbags ever to walk the earth.’
Vittore cursed in Italian, his tone vicious, his eyes murderous as they rested on Kit’s grinning face.
For God’s sake, Kit, what are you doing ? Ruby wondered in panic.
‘So here I am. Paying my respects to the dear departed,’ he said, giggling like a lunatic.
‘This is not the way to do things,’ said Ruby.
‘No?’ Kit’s eyes grew sharper as they met his mother’s. ‘And how would you know? You don’t even keep your kids, do you, much less bury the bastards.’
Ruby felt a stab of pain at that.
Rob placed a hand on Kit’s chest as he lurched forward.
‘Mate,’ said Rob in a low voice. ‘You’re drunk. Your mum’s right. This ain’t the way to behave. Let’s get you home.’ He took Kit’s arm.
Kit shook him off. ‘Nah, not before I say what I came to say.’
‘You’ve said enough,’ snapped Vittore.
‘Not by a long shot,’ said Kit, shaking his head.
He was still grinning, swaying, and Ruby thought that he wouldn’t even remember this tomorrow, he was so pissed. But Vittore would.
Kit, you fool.
Daisy had told her Kit was drinking. She hadn’t yet seen him drunk, but today he was far gone, almost insensible. Is this my fault? she wondered in anguish.
She knew that Kit had a lot to bear. He’d lost a woman he truly loved, and Michael, all in the space of a few months. It was enough to bring the strongest man down. And her efforts to reconnect with him, with this precious son she had lost at birth and then refound, were still being met with suspicion and sometimes with downright fury.
‘I just wanted to tell you all how pleased I am that Tito’s dead,’ said Kit.
‘Oh God . . .’ said Ruby, putting a hand to her mouth. ‘Bella, I’m sorry . . .’
‘Don’t apologize for me,’ roared Kit, coming closer to his mother.
It was then that Vittore stepped forward, swift as a viper. Suddenly, shockingly, he grabbed Kit’s head.
Ruby let out a yell.
Rob shouted: ‘Hey!’ and moved to intervene.
‘Get off me, you wop son of a bitch,’ snarled Kit.
But Vittore didn’t headbutt Kit: he just held him. Then he flicked a thumb against his own front teeth and ran a fingernail down his own cheek. He released Kit, who staggered back, shocked out of his stupor, the grin gone from his face. Vittore said something under
‘Oh God!’ she burst out.
Kit was walking across the road, moving toward one of the Danieri limousines. Bella’s daughter Bianca had already departed, with her youngest son Fabio. But Vittore the eldest was still there, just getting into a limo with his mother.
‘Fuck,’ said Rob.
Ruby threw her door open. ‘Stop him, Rob, will you? Quick!’
Rob was already out of the car, moving around the front of it. Ruby followed, her heart in her mouth. If Kit reached the Danieri party, there would be massive trouble. The situation was a tinderbox, ready to blow: one spark, and all Bella’s efforts to defuse it would come to nothing.
Kit moved fast, even though he seemed to be weaving a little, unsteady. By the time Rob caught up with him, he was standing in front of the Danieri limousine.
‘So that bastard Tito’s planted at last,’ said Kit loudly, with a laugh. ‘And not a fucking minute too soon.’
A gasp went up from some of the remaining guests at Kit’s words. They turned and stared at this crazed-looking interloper. Ruby hurried up; Rob quickly put himself in between Kit and Vittore. Bella, black-veiled, inscrutable, stood there unmoving. Vittore, blank-eyed with hate, looked like he wanted to do Kit extreme damage.
Kit was swaying on his feet. He was scruffy, unshaven, his tie askew, his shirt collar grubby.
‘You’re drunk,’ Ruby realized, saying it aloud.
Kit turned his attention to her. ‘Mother dear,’ he said, as if seeing her there for the first time. ‘Hello! I am, in fact, royally pissed. Because I’ve been celebrating the funeral of one of the worst scumbags ever to walk the earth.’
Vittore cursed in Italian, his tone vicious, his eyes murderous as they rested on Kit’s grinning face.
For God’s sake, Kit, what are you doing ? Ruby wondered in panic.
‘So here I am. Paying my respects to the dear departed,’ he said, giggling like a lunatic.
‘This is not the way to do things,’ said Ruby.
‘No?’ Kit’s eyes grew sharper as they met his mother’s. ‘And how would you know? You don’t even keep your kids, do you, much less bury the bastards.’
Ruby felt a stab of pain at that.
Rob placed a hand on Kit’s chest as he lurched forward.
‘Mate,’ said Rob in a low voice. ‘You’re drunk. Your mum’s right. This ain’t the way to behave. Let’s get you home.’ He took Kit’s arm.
Kit shook him off. ‘Nah, not before I say what I came to say.’
‘You’ve said enough,’ snapped Vittore.
‘Not by a long shot,’ said Kit, shaking his head.
He was still grinning, swaying, and Ruby thought that he wouldn’t even remember this tomorrow, he was so pissed. But Vittore would.
Kit, you fool.
Daisy had told her Kit was drinking. She hadn’t yet seen him drunk, but today he was far gone, almost insensible. Is this my fault? she wondered in anguish.
She knew that Kit had a lot to bear. He’d lost a woman he truly loved, and Michael, all in the space of a few months. It was enough to bring the strongest man down. And her efforts to reconnect with him, with this precious son she had lost at birth and then refound, were still being met with suspicion and sometimes with downright fury.
‘I just wanted to tell you all how pleased I am that Tito’s dead,’ said Kit.
‘Oh God . . .’ said Ruby, putting a hand to her mouth. ‘Bella, I’m sorry . . .’
‘Don’t apologize for me,’ roared Kit, coming closer to his mother.
It was then that Vittore stepped forward, swift as a viper. Suddenly, shockingly, he grabbed Kit’s head.
Ruby let out a yell.
Rob shouted: ‘Hey!’ and moved to intervene.
‘Get off me, you wop son of a bitch,’ snarled Kit.
But Vittore didn’t headbutt Kit: he just held him. Then he flicked a thumb against his own front teeth and ran a fingernail down his own cheek. He released Kit, who staggered back, shocked out of his stupor, the grin gone from his face. Vittore said something under
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