“What’s going on?” Floriana asked, sensing danger but not knowing what form it took.
“My daughter,” said Elio, reaching out for her. She flinched and narrowed her eyes. “I know you are expecting a baby.” The world spun out of control, and she put her hand on the wall to steady herself. “Don’t be alarmed. I’m happy, Floriana. I’m going to be a grandfather. This man is here to take you somewhere safe so you can have your baby without scandal. When you are ready, you can come back and we’ll be a family again.” She stared at the stranger, and her mouth went dry. Where was Dante? How had her father found out? She noticed he was holding a thick brown envelope. “Oh, this?” he said, tapping it against his hand. “This is a little gift from Beppe.”
“You blackmailed him?” she hissed, incredulous that her own father could betray her.
“You might not be happy now, but you’ll thank me later.”
“Where’s Dante?” she asked. “Where is he?”
“He is waiting for you up at the house,” said the stranger.
“But I was to meet him tomorrow.”
“The plan has changed,” the stranger continued. “You are to come now.”
“Can I pack my things?”
The man nodded. “Of course.” She marched past them into her bedroom and closed the door behind her.
Her first instincts were to climb out of the window and run away. But what if the man was speaking the truth? What if her father had informed Beppe and he had given him money to support her? What if Dante was waiting for her at La Magdalena? After all, there was no way of letting her know with no telephone in the house. Perhaps Beppe was now taking control of the situation, which would surely be a good thing? In which case they wouldn’t have to skulk about anymore but could declare their love openly.
With these thoughts she began to put her few belongings into a bag. It didn’t take long. She was anxious to get out of the house and as far away from her father as possible. There was something callous about his eyes, something she didn’t recognize or like.
When she emerged, her father tried to embrace her, but she recoiled in disgust and hurried down the stairs after the swarthy man who smelled of cheap cologne. She looked around for Signora Bruno, but she was nowhere to be seen. She climbed into the little black car that was parked in Via Roma, as her spirits fluctuated between excitement and fear. It didn’t look like the sort of car Beppe Bonfanti would own, and she hesitated, her instincts crying out that something wasn’t right. But she was incapable now of doing anything about it. As Floriana’s pulse thumped in her temples, the stranger started the engine and the car rattled up the street.
Floriana didn’t say a word. She was too frightened. She kept her eyes on the road ahead. At least they were going in the right direction. She noticed the man’s hands. They were large and strong and gripped the steering wheel very tightly. Then her gaze strayed past them to the door, and she saw that it was locked. They were all locked. Her breath caught in her chest, and her head grew dizzy with terror. The gates of La Magdalena reared up in front of them and she felt a tremendous wave of longing wash over her, forcing her back in her seat. She began to knot her fingers, and her palms grew damp with sweat. Slowly, they approached, so slowly it was as if she was outside her body, looking down. As if she was watching a movie of someone else’s life.
At that moment, Good-Night ran out into the road, breaking the spell. She sat up and gazed at him in desperation. He seemed to know that she was in the car and strained his neck to see her. The car didn’t slow down, but sped past the dog and the gates of La Magdalena. She swiveled around in her seat and banged on the window. “Good-Night! Good-Night!” The dog recognized her at once and bounded speedily after her.
“Sit down!” commanded the man. “Or you’ll make me crash.”
“Where are you taking me?” she demanded. When he didn’t reply, she began to sob. “You’re not taking me to Dante, are you?” She stared out of the rear window as the dog slowed down to a trot and grew smaller and smaller, until he was a little dot on the tarmac. “What are you going to do with me?” Still he didn’t answer. He had his orders. He clutched the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white.
The following day it poured with rain. Dante waited for Floriana under an umbrella by the wall, as they had arranged. He paced up and down, up and down, every now and then looking at his watch, wondering why she didn’t come. Good-Night stood in the middle of the road, ears back, tail between his legs, as restless as his master. He whined, trotting in circles as Dante grew ever more anxious, but he had no way of letting his master know what he had seen.