Broken Chord Read Online Free PDF Page A

feelings about their liberators, but their hatred of the Germans had been absolute. He had grown up with that as a constant theme. Now no one spoke about the war. It was over, forgotten by most, ancient history to the ignorant young, who knew littleabout it and were told even less at school. History lessons stopped with the beginning of Fascism. Now German tourists thronged the country and were welcomed by everybody, as was right, so why was someone taking exception to one half-German woman who had been born after the war, had no blood on her hands and was guilty of no sins except, of course, those of her father and her countrymen? The sins of the father… What rubbish! He snorted with derision. If that were true then how many would be guilty?
    He sat down, took a sip of his drink and began sorting out the letters and bills. Part of his job as general manager of the house was to make out cheques for all bills, hire and fire servants and generally make sure that Madam, as she liked to be called, had nothing to concern herself with other than her own pleasure. He’d been protecting her for so long it seemed natural. His eyes roved towards the desk drawer again. He sighed, finished his drink in one short sharp gulp and began to make out the cheques. She would sign them without even looking. He could easily have cheated but he never had and she knew it. There were the odd perks like the few extra bottles of wine from the wine merchant, little things of that sort, but he had never cheated or taken a cut as he knew some people in his position did.
    In the immediate future the problem of Roberto would have to be solved but Piero was quite sure he could deal with that, if asked, as discretely as he had dealt with other things in the past: paying off prostitutes brutalised by Lapo, Marianna’s abortion, and Tebaldo’s drug dependency. There were ways of dealing with unfortunate situations and he knew all of them.
     
    A middle-aged man, modestly dressed, sat in a corner of the bar, reading a sports paper. Although not from the village he had become a regular and now aroused little curiosity. Occasionally, he lifted his eyes and watched Roberto come and go to the lavatory, always closely followed by someone. The local Chief of Police had asked for surveillance after becoming aware of an increase in the amount of cocaine available in the area. This Roberto was obviously thedealer but he wouldn’t be arrested just yet. He was a very small fish in a very big pool and it was the sharks that controlled the trade that they wanted, not the minnows.
    A motorbike drew up outside making an incredible noise. Shortly afterwards a youth came in. He had studs in his ears, a ring through one eyebrow and another through his lower lip. His hair was very long and black, his face a mask of scorn. He didn’t walk in, he swaggered. Conversation faltered for a moment. Roberto studiously ignored him, partially turning away from him. The newcomer ordered a beer and when he had been served, turned his back to the counter and drank his beer down staring intently at everyone with a smile that was almost a sneer. No one spoke to him and he approached no-one. When his glass was empty he put it down on the counter, paid and left. Everyone seemed to hold their breath as they waited for the engine to start up and set off. The man reading his newspaper wondered what it was all about. One thing seemed certain; Roberto knew the youth and by his evasive action, which was quite unnecessary, had made that crystal clear. He might just as well have said out loud, “I’ll pretend I don’t know you.”
    As the sound of the motorbike receded, a furious honking started up outside. All eyes swivelled round to Roberto who seemed undecided but didn’t move. Then an incredibly beautiful blonde girl came into the bar and grabbed him by the arm. After a few minutes whispered conversation, they left together.
    The man in the corner folded his newspaper and slowly left the bar.