Unmasking Elena Montella (25 page)

‘
Invisible!’ Elena interrupted his little speech.

‘
Well, yours can.’

Elena frowned. ‘I was invisible today.’

‘
Good!’ Stefano said, nodding his approval. ‘I told you to have some fun with it.’

‘
No!’ Elena cried. ‘I mean, I was invisible when I took the mask off!’

‘
Eh?’

‘
I saw somebody I know but he didn’t see me.’

Stefano’s white eyebrows narrowed. ‘And you didn’t speak to him?’

‘
I didn’t know what to say so I came here.’

‘
I can’t give you a mask for that, I’m afraid.’

Elena sighed. What had she expected from Stefano? It had seemed quite natural for her to head for the little mask shop when she’d found herself in trouble but she knew in her heart that he couldn’t really solve her problem.

Watching Stefano wielding the most delicate of paintbrushes, something occurred to Elena and she reached for the mask in her pocket once more.

‘
Stefano,’ she began, holding the mask up to the window so that it shimmered and shined like a little sun. ‘You realise that you could make an absolute fortune from this mask, don’t you?’

Stefano looked up from the mask he was working on, frowned and shook his head. ‘What do I want with a fortune?’ he scoffed. ‘I am happy. This is enough,’ he said, gesturing around the shop.

Elena stared at him in disbelief. ‘But you’d never have to work again. You could retire and live anywhere you chose! Just think - you and Viviana could buy a villa on the Amalfi coast or-’

‘
No, no, no! I don’t think so.’

Elena’s forehead creased in bemusement. She couldn’t quite believe him but, as she continued to watch him as he worked, she realised that some people actually enjoyed their work - loved it even. Stefano’s work was his life: it was the air he breathed and the energy that coursed through his veins.

‘
But think what this could mean to the world!’ Elena said, trying another line of reasoning.

‘
Pah! The world! What world is there outside of my shop? What could compete with the day to day existence of creating beautiful things which people treasure?’ he said, gesturing to his friends on the wall behind him where rows of exquisite faces seemed to wink back at him. ‘What could compare with choosing the paints, the ribbons, the sequins and feathers; of blending knowledge and imagination to create something unique? Eh? I don’t want anything else,’ he said simply, putting his paintbrush down and looking at her directly. ‘I gave the mask to you, Elena. It is yours to do with as you wish but I wouldn’t advise giving it to anybody else.’

‘
I wasn’t going to,’ she said hastily.

‘
I’m glad to hear it.’

Elena looked down at the golden mask, feeling rather honoured. ‘Why did you choose me, then?’

‘
I told you before - the mask chose you,’ he said quietly as he continued to work.

‘
Are all the masks magical? For the right person, I mean?’

Stefano shook his head. ‘So many questions!’

‘
But do you know the answers?’

He looked up at her and their eyes locked. ‘I don’t think I have the answers you want,’ Stefano said at last, breaking the spell with a blink and returning to his work.

Elena smiled. ‘I’d better be going,’ she said, putting the mask inside her coat pocket once more.

‘
Good luck,’ he said as Elena made to leave the shop.

‘
Thanks,’ she replied before realising that she hadn’t even told him that she needed any.

Elena couldn’t remember the last time she’d sat in a church. She had a feeling it had been the time Rosanna had visited one February and dragged her out on a Sunday morning, before her eyes were open, to sit in an Arctic-cold church.

She’d been so nervous at entering this one with the mask in her pocket that she’d taken it very slowly so she could turn and run if any bolts of lightning were thrown her way.

Now, sitting on a hard wooden pew and staring at the altar, Elena felt a little more at ease. Some time ago, and she couldn’t quite pinpoint when, she’d moved away from religion. It hadn’t been a case of getting out of bed one morning and saying, that’s it: I’m not religious any more - it had slowly crept up on her. But sitting in the church now, it would be easy to believe again. The very air seemed thick with Divinity. Perhaps it was the whiteness of the walls or the brightness of the candles, but there was an undeniable sense of peace.

On one of the walls nearby, there was a beautiful painting of the Virgin Mary set behind a little altar of its own. When Elena first noticed it, she felt herself blushing, hoping Mary wouldn’t turn her eyes towards her and punish her for her cruel revenge on Irma Taccani who was probably still working her way through her
Hail Marys
.

The Virgin’s dress was a startling lapis lazuli and it was that which had first caught Elena’s eye. She was holding the infant, Jesus, whose alabaster skin seemed to glow with holiness, but it was Mary who was the focus of the painting: she wore an expression of indescribable peace. Elena gazed at it and wondered what it must be like to feel that calm. She hadn’t felt calm like that for a long time - if ever. It was something which eluded Elena but this picture breathed peace: from Mary’s serene face and the gentleness with which she held her baby, to the pastoral landscape seen through the arched window behind her. Elena could feel her vision dissolve as she looked at it, allowing her eyes to be led out into the distant hills. It reminded her of somewhere: a somewhere she hadn’t seen for a long time; a somewhere far removed from the bustle of the world around her now.

‘
Positano,’ she whispered. Positano. It was more than a place: it was a state of being and, as Elena thought about it, she could almost feel her feet beginning to itch. She could go there - to their mother’s. She bit her lip trying to suppress her excitement. Of course, she knew it was running away again and that Rosanna would be furious but, if she acted quickly, she could be packed and out of the apartment before Rosanna knew about it. Didn’t she have a date on the Lido that night? Elena looked at her watch. She could pack what she needed whilst Rosanna was out and leave first thing in the morning before her sister was even up.

Elena looked at the landscape in the picture and felt a sense of great calm washing over her. It was as if she was there already.

Rosanna was always surprised by her reaction to the Lido. It was just so noisy. The absence of cars and buses on Venice really made its mark and, whenever she visited the Lido or the mainland, she’d invariably get a headache. The main street was a migraine-generator and Rosanna could smell the pollution in the air. How could anyone live there? she wondered, squinting her eyes against the onslaught of traffic and trying her best not to breathe. She really did think of herself as a true Venetian now. To her, there was no other place she could contemplate living and that was one of the deciding factors in breaking up with Corrado. His dream of a little place in the Umbrian hills made Rosanna’s spine constrict with fear. Goosebumps of revulsion would break out over her body at the thought of leaving her beloved city.

Corrado was waiting for her at the restaurant when she arrived, his hair newly-washed and his face clean-shaven. He looked sweet. He was wearing a new pair of jeans she hadn’t seen before and a white shirt which, no doubt, had been pressed by his mother. He’d obviously made a huge effort for their date which made things far worse. He hadn’t picked up on what she was feeling at all, had he? He still thought of their relationship as something that was moving forwards.

Rosanna took a deep breath before walking over to his table.

‘
Corrado,’ she said when he didn’t look up from the menu.

‘
Rosanna! You look lovely,’ he said to her softly as he got up and kissed her cheek before pulling her chair out for her.

‘
Thank you,’ she said. ‘You look nice too.’

He shrugged. ‘Mother picked out the shirt for me,’ he said and Rosanna felt herself wince. They hadn’t spent a full minute in each other’s company and yet Irma Taccani had already made her presence felt.

‘
I’ve just got to -’ Rosanna leapt out of her chair and pointed to the back of the restaurant and headed quickly to the ladies’ before she had a chance to mouth off about Corrado’s mother.

Inside the ladies’, she gazed at herself long and hard in the mirror. She looked tired - as if she could quite happily fall asleep for a year. In fact, she had an overwhelming desire to go straight back to Sandro’s apartment right there and then and just hide herself under the bed covers. For a brief moment, she looked around, wondering if there was a back way out of the restaurant - a window in the toilets or something, but she shook her head. She was being ridiculous. She had to stay and sort this out. Wasn’t that what she was always telling Elena to do?

Washing her hands slowly to give herself a few seconds to compose herself, Rosanna psyched herself up for the evening ahead. She’d never broken up with anyone before - not like this, anyway. Previous relationships had either never taken off in the first place or had drifted, quite naturally, into non-existence without the need for a showdown. And what was the correct way to go about it? Should she wait until the main course or was it more polite to have finished dessert first?

As she dried her hands, Rosanna felt a deep frown embed itself across her forehead which she knew would not shift itself for at least a week now. She felt so wretched, and the beginnings of a headache were tap dancing at her temples.

Taking a deep breath, she opened the door, realising that she couldn’t spend the entire evening in the toilets. Corrado looked up and smiled as she crossed the restaurant.

‘
I thought you’d fallen in,’ he said as she sat down.

‘
I wasn’t that long,’ she snapped, in no mood to laugh.

‘
I’ve ordered starters,’ he said.

‘
How do you know what I want?’

Corrado frowned. ‘I guessed, based on the fact that you normally have the soup.’

Rosanna frowned back. ‘Well, I might not have wanted soup tonight.’

‘
You want me to order something else for you?’

‘
No! Soup is fine,’ Rosanna sighed, hoping it would come in a bowl big enough to drown herself in.

There was a moment’s silence.

‘
I
had
been looking forward to this evening,’ Corrado said, his voice shot through with hurt and, immediately, Rosanna felt riddled with guilt again. Why was she being so nasty? Couldn’t they just enjoy their last meal together? After all, they’d been together for two years and they’d been good years too.

‘
I’m sorry,’ Rosanna said at last, and then immediately regretted apologising. If she started apologising, she’d get all emotional and that wouldn’t do. She had to remain strong and detached.

‘
You’re not sorry at all, are you?’ Corrado said, surprising her by his intuitiveness. It was a quality she’d never credited him with before.

‘
Corrado,’ she began and then stopped, not quite knowing what to say next.

‘
What?’

‘
I -’

Again, there was a pause which seemed to swallow huge chunks of time before one of them dared to speak.

‘
You want to break up with me, don’t you?’

Rosanna’s eyes widened in genuine shock.

‘
When does this date back too, then?’ Corrado asked calmly.

‘
What do you mean?’

‘
I thought you were happy. I thought
we
were happy? And you can’t have been if you’ve been planning this.’

‘
I haven’t been
planning
this!’

‘
No?’

‘
No!’

‘
But you knew you were going to tell me tonight?’

Rosanna nodded. ‘Yes.’

‘
Merda
! Rosanna! You could have told me over the phone and saved me the expense of a meal!’

Rosanna stared at him as if she hadn’t heard him right. ‘Is that all you can think about? Is that all you have to say?’