Tuscan Rose Read Online Free PDF Page B

Roses, not yet in bloom, clambered over a stone wall that led to a gravelled path into the woods. Rosa crept her way through the trees, her ears straining to every sound. She found a pool with a fountain and was startled to see a bride standing there with a long white veil hanging down her back. In a blink, she realised that the figure was not a woman but a white peacock perched on a stand with its tail feathers draping to the ground. It was the most beautiful creature she had ever seen. It turned on her approach and uttered its blood-curdling call. Rosa laughed at how wrong her impression had been. The cry was not that of a woman being murdered, simply a bird calling for its mate.
    Enchanted by the lush woods, Rosa continued along the path, which followed a slope bordered by birch trees. The dappled light was charming and she walked until she came upon a stone chapel with a cemetery next to it. Both were in a state of neglect, which surprised her given the grandeur of the rest of the villa. The cemetery garden was a jungle of periwinkles, irises and violets. Ivy grew over everything and even seemed to be creeping into the cracks of the graves as if it intended to break them apart. Assumingthat the cemetery must be ancient, Rosa pushed aside the ivy to read the headstones. Most of the plots belonged to ancestors of the Scarfiotti clan. The family seemed to have lived in the area for at least two centuries. There were other graves with less elaborate stones, which Rosa deduced belonged to servants.
    At the far end of the cemetery she found a tomb with a tall surround that, from the thickness of the ivy that covered it, she supposed must be as old as the others. Pulling aside the vine she was surprised to see that the foliage had merely formed a loose blanket over the stone and had not damaged it. On top of the tomb was the sculptured life-size figure of a woman lying in repose. The monument was tall and so Rosa could only see the face in profile, but the details of the nose and chin and the folds of the figure’s dress were so realistic it looked as if the woman had been captured at the moment of her death and frozen into stone. There was no name or date on the grave, only the inscription: Buona notte, mia cara sorella. Goodnight, my dear sister.
    Next to the woman knelt a statue of a babe with wings, her tiny hands clasped in desperate prayer. The angel’s grief tore at Rosa’s heart and she had to sit down by the grave and wipe away her tears. Never before had a statue so moved her. Her thoughts drifted to her own mother. Was she still alive? And if she was, why had she been forced to abandon her?
    It took Rosa a few minutes to recover from her emotions. When she did, she tugged the ivy back over the grave as if she were covering an intimate scene she should not have laid eyes upon. Something brushed against her leg and she glanced down to see a tortoiseshell cat with one ear missing looking up at her.
    ‘Hello, pussy cat,’ she said, bending down to stroke the feline’s back. The cat purred when Rosa scratched her chin.
    A chill ran down Rosa’s spine and she lifted her eyes. At first she could see nothing but the dark woods. Then she caught her breath. The gatekeeper was standing between two trees and staring at her. She sensed that she had done something forbidden in entering the cemetery.
    ‘Good morning,’ she called out to him, her voice hoarse with guilt.
    The gatekeeper didn’t answer her. The shadows between the trees shifted. Rosa peered into the woods again. There was no-one there. She turned towards the cat. It was scampering away from her into some bushes. The blood thumped in Rosa’s ears and terror seized her. She hurried back in the direction of the house, sure that some presence was watching her. The gatekeeper? Or something else?
    She took the wrong direction on the path and, instead of returning to the terrace garden, ran through a passageway of hedges and found herself in an orchard. The