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The Man Behind the Scars(39)

By:Caitlin Crews


"Yes.'

"That must have been a very brave gesture on their part, given … '

"Given what I had done? Yes, it was. There were plenty of people in  their local community who were ready to criticise and condemn them, just  as they had already condemned me. I had brought shame on my  grandparents and by association could potentially bring shame on their  community. But then you know all about that, don't you? You know how  shamefully and shockingly I behaved, and how I humiliated and damaged  not just myself but my grandparents and all those connected with them.  You know how my name became a byword for shame in our community and how  my grandparents suffered for that. Suffered for it but still stood by  me. And because of that you will also know why I am here now, enduring  this further humiliation by you.'

He wanted to say something-to tell her how sorry he was, to remind her  that he had tried to apologise-but at the same time he knew that he had  to stand strong. There was far more at stake here than their own  emotions. Whether they liked it or not they were both part of a much  greater pattern, their lives woven into the fabric of the society into  which they had both been born.

That was something neither of them could ignore or walk away from.

"You want to carry out the promise you made to your grandparents that their ashes will be buried here?'

"It was what they always wanted, and of course it became more important  to them after … after the shame I brought them. Because burial of their  ashes here was their only means of returning to being fully accepted  members of their community, being accepted as having the right to be at  rest here in the church in which they were christened, confirmed and  married. There is nothing I will not do to make that happen-even if that  means having to beg.'

Caesar hadn't expected her honesty. Hostility and antagonism towards  him, yes, he had expected those, but her honesty had somehow slipped  under his guard. Or was it that part of him-the modern, educated part,  that was constantly striving to align the desire to bring his people  into the twenty-first century with being custodian of their ancient  customs-was looking on with modern-day compassion? This was a young girl  caught up in a system of values that had punished her for modern-day  behaviour that contravened the old rules.

He could feel the weight of the letter in his pocket. Like pressure on a  raw wound, grinding into it painfully sharp shards of broken glass.

She was beginning to lose her self-control, Louise recognised. That  mustn't happen. She must accept that, whilst it was only natural that  she shouldn't want to answer him, she must resist the impulse to be  defensive. What mattered was the debt of love she owed her grandparents,  and no one-especially not this arrogant, lordly Sicilian, whose very  presence in the same airspace as her was causing her body to react with  angry contempt-was going to compromise that. After all, given what she  had already been through, what was a little more humiliation? The words  straw, broke and camel's back slid dangerously into her mind, lodging  there like small yet effective barbs.                       
       
           



       

She had almost been out of her mind with shock and shame and anger when  her grandparents had taken her in, incapable of thinking for herself,  never mind looking after herself. She had virtually crawled into bed,  barely noticing the bedroom they had given her in their pretty Notting  Hill house-the house they had bought so proudly when, after years of  working for others, their restaurant had finally made them financially  independent. She had wanted only to hide away from everyone. Including  herself.

Her grandparents and their house had been her sanctuary. They had given  her what she had been denied by both her mother and her father. They had  taken her in and loved her when others had rejected her, ashamed of her  and for her. Shame. Such a terrible word to a proud Sicilian. The scar  that covered her shame throbbed angrily and painfully. She'd have done  anything rather than come here, but she owed her grandparents so much.

In all the calculations she had made about what might be asked of her,  what penance she might have to pay in order to remove the stain of  dishonour from their family name and win agreement for the burial of her  grandparents' ashes, she had never thought to factor in the fact that  she would be confronted by this man and forced to answer to him for her  sins. The truth was that she had thought he'd be as antagonistic towards  such a meeting as she was herself. She had obviously underestimated his  arrogance.

"As you know, I alone am not responsible for any decision made with regard to your request. The village elders-'

"Will take their cue from you. As you must know perfectly well that I  know that. You are the one who holds the authority to grant my  grandparents' request. To deny them this, their chosen final resting  place, would be beyond unfair and cruel. To punish them because-'

"That is the way of our society. The whole family suffers when one member of it falls from grace. You know that.'

"And you think that is right?' she demanded scornfully, unable to prevent herself from saying acidly, "Of course you do.'

"Here in this part of Sicily people live their lives to rules and  customs that were laid down centuries ago. Of course I can see many  faults in those customs and rules, and of course I want to assist in  changes that will be for the benefit of my people, but those changes can  only come about slowly if they are not to lead to distrust and  unhappiness between the generations.'

Louise knew that what he was saying was true, even if she didn't want to  admit it. Even if something in the trained, professional part of her  was thinking eagerly of the opportunities for good that must surely come  from being in a position to put in place changes that would ultimately  benefit so many people and help them to understand and reach out for the  gifts of the future, whilst laying to rest the ghosts of the past.  Besides it was her grandparents' wishes she wanted to discuss with him.

"My grandparents did a great deal for their community. In the early days  they sent money home here, for their parents and their siblings. They  went without to do that. They employed people from the village who came  to London. They housed them and looked after them. They gave generously  to the church and to charity. It is their right to have all that they  were and all that they did recognised and respected.'

She was a passionate advocate for her grandparents, and he couldn't  doubt the strength of her feelings, Caesar acknowledged. A discreet  bleep from his mobile phone warned him of an impending appointment. He  hadn't expected this interview with her to take as long as it had, and  there were still things he needed to say-questions he needed to ask.

"I have to go. I have an appointment. However, there are things we still  need to discuss,' he told her. "I shall be in touch with you.'

He was turning to walk away, having made it clear that he intended to  keep her on edge and anxious. A cruel act from a man who had cruelty and  pride bred into his blood and his bones. Perhaps she shouldn't have  expected anything else. And the relief she felt because he was going?  What did that say about her and her own reserves of strength?

He was only a couple of metres away from her when he turned. The sun  slanting through the cypresses caught against the sharp, hard bones of  his face, throwing it into relief so that he looked as if he could  easily have traded places with one of his own fierce warrior  ancestors-that toxic mix of pre-Christian Roman and Moor was stamped  clearly on his features.

"Your son,' he said. "Have you brought him to Sicily with you?'