playful as they were with Iole but rather preserving a respectful distance.
Rosa took Iole’s hand. “Okay, let’s go. Can’t wait to see what you found.”
Iole beamed. “You really have time?”
“You act as if I never do.”
Iole’s mouth twisted, and she looked at Rosa as if to say: Well, think about it.
Rosa groaned guiltily and led Iole to the door. The snakes swiftly glided aside and formed an avenue for them. Rosa was glad when they had left the greenhouse and the latch clicked behind them. It wasn’t that she didn’t like to be near the snakes; it was more that she got slightly irritated finding, week after week, how she felt about being near them.
There were several ways into the palazzo cellar. They used a staircase behind a door in the kitchen, not far from the open range where whole pigs used to be roasted on spits.
The stairway was narrow, and clearly hadn’t been used for years. Iole went ahead, warning Rosa of cobwebs and any steps that were shorter than the others, obviously enjoying the role of guide. When she operated an old-fashioned rotary switch on the wall, round lamps in metal frames on the hall ceiling came on.
After the tropical climate of the greenhouse, it was definitely cold down here. A slight draft of air smelled of dank stone and mold.
“There’s something I have to ask you,” said Rosa as she followed Iole along the brickwork corridors. Iole liked to wear white—perhaps to declare her independence from Rosa’s habitual black—and had a strong aversion to anything too close-fitting. In the dim light, there was something fairy-like about the loose material of her dress wafting around her.
“What is it?”
“I don’t know if you’ll want to talk about it.”
Iole didn’t look back at her. “What it was like when I was being kept prisoner?”
Rosa sighed softly. “Yes. But something particular about it.”
“Ask away.”
“How did you feel about the men who were keeping you captive? Did you hate them, or were you angry or afraid of them? A mixture of all that? Or something different?”
Iole shook her head. Rosa could still see her only from behind. “I didn’t feel anything about them.”
“Nothing at all?”
“I didn’t think about them except when they came to bring me food or clothes. Or when they were taking me to a new hiding place. Otherwise I pretended they didn’t exist. Like when you dive into the water with your hands over your ears—you don’t hear anything. It works with feelings, too. Everything inside you closes up; it doesn’t let anything through. And then it’s like you’re deaf to feelings. You just don’t have them anymore.” She stopped and turned around. “Sounds a little crazy, right?” Rosa hugged her. “It doesn’t sound crazy at all.”
Raising her head from Rosa’s shoulder, Iole looked at her. “Why are you asking?”
“No reason.”
“That’s not true.” Iole tilted her head a little and stared at her, hard. “Are you keeping someone prisoner?”
“What makes you think that?”
“There was one of those men who brought me things, and he always seemed a little sad, like he was ashamed of himself. You look just the same.”
Rosa took a step back, shook her head, and ran her fingers through her hair. “Let’s keep going, okay?”
Iole shrugged. “You have to make sure the prisoner always has something to drink. And something to eat. Not too sweet, not too sour. And a TV set. Otherwise your prisoner goes soft in the head.”
Rosa didn’t know how well Trevini was looking after Valerie, but she was pretty sure there was no TV set in her cell. Oddly enough, it was that point that pricked her conscience.
Iole continued walking, and Rosa hurried to catch up with her. She had been down here once before, but none of it seemed familiar. The coarse brown masonry, the cobwebs over the electric bulbs in their metal holders, the cracked concrete underfoot, which had been laid down over even older floors—as if the palazzo were about to show its true face, one that had been hidden behind halfhearted renovations.
“It’s cold down here.” She folded her arms around her shoulders as she walked.
“It’ll be colder in a minute,” said Iole.
Soon they reached the space outside the freezer. They had been going for only a few minutes, but it felt to Rosa as if an hour had passed. Below the ceiling, neon tubes came alight, humming. The place was empty except for a metal box beside a heavy iron door.