her eyes closed, pretending to pray. After a few moments, she heard the verger walk to the back of the church, and felt a cold draught as he left by the main entrance.
Now alone, Isabella set about looking for the entrance to the crypt. She tried one door after another before opening one to the right of the main altar. Pushing it open, she was almost overcome with the stench of damp and decay. In front of her were steep steps leading down into the dark. She covered her face with her gloved hand and, clinging to the cold iron handrail, descended to what she hoped was the crypt.
The walls flickered in the candlelight, and as her eyes became accustomed to the gloom, she gasped at what she saw. An underground chamber, its walls bizarrely decorated with hundreds of human skulls, arranged in complex designs. A coat of arms on one wall looked like a pair of crossed swords, before she realised with horror that they were in fact a pair of dismembered arms.
Suddenly, she sensed a presence and swung round. She knew it had to be Vicenzo, but he was almost unrecognisable. Dressed in a tatty coat and a crumpled hat, he looked like a tramp, as if he was in costume for a play.
‘Thank God you’re here,’ he said. ‘But how did you get in?’
‘Down the staircase.’
‘You should have used the separate street entrance; it’s next to the main doors. Did anyone see you come down here?’
‘No. There was a verger in the church, but I pretended to pray until he left.’
‘Good, well we’d better be quick.’
‘This place is bizarre,’ she said, looking around. Every wall, even the vaulted ceiling, was decorated with skulls arranged in complex patterns.
‘I know,’ he said, smiling. ‘I think it’s rather wonderful, if somewhat macabre.’ He threw his arms out and bowed theatrically. ‘Welcome to the crypt of skulls.’ Isabella sensed he was enjoying her discomfort.
‘Who are all these dead people?’
‘They are the remains of Franciscan monks, the order of the Capuchin,’ explained Vicenzo. ‘They brought the bones here when they moved to Italy from the Lebanon in the seventeenth century. Three hundred cartloads of skeletons – can you imagine?’
She grimaced.
‘There are several rooms, all featuring different parts of the body.’ He took her hand, leading her further into the gloom. Isabella could dimly make out yet more bones on the walls. ‘This is the crypt of pelvises,’ said Vicenzo. ‘It’s my favourite.’
‘Oh my God – it’s disgusting!’ Isabella suddenly realised what she was looking at. Hundreds of individual pelvic bones were stacked on top of each other to create complex designs. On either side of the central display entire skeletons dressed in monks’ habits had been propped up in the curved recesses. ‘I feel as if they’re watching us,’ she said nervously.
‘Well, fortunately they’re not,’ he replied. ‘That’s why I chose it for a meeting place. No one comes in here – it’s too scary.’
She glanced at him. ‘So why did you want to meet?’
‘To check if you were all right and that my dogs were happy.’
‘The dogs are fine. I managed to find some meat for them. Someone at the golf club knew someone… you know how it is. So they’re eating well. They sleep on the bed with me – it makes me feel less alone.’
‘You have Constanza for company.’
‘Yes I know, but it still feels odd being in your house, without you.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said gently, ‘but I’m grateful that you’re there.’
‘I don’t really understand why you need me there,’ she said. ‘Constanza could feed the dogs.’
‘She’s only a young girl and not very bright. Besides, I need it to look as if I am still there, with lights going on, comings and goings. Why, don’t you like living in my house?’ He smiled at her. He was more like the old Vicenzo, soft and loving.
‘Of course I like it,’ she said. ‘It’s your house, so how could I not? I feel close to you when I’m there.’
He stroked her cheek. ‘You’re very sweet.’
‘You have my picture by your bed,’ she said shyly.
‘I know.’
‘Why?’
‘You know why.’
‘No,’ she said, searching his face for some hint that he might love her. ‘Explain it to me.’
‘I care for you,’ he said, gazing down at her, his dark eyes glittering in the candlelight. She felt the familiar longing deep inside. She desperately wanted him to kiss her, to hold her.
‘Do you love me?’ she asked quietly.
‘Yes, in my own way.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘Have