The Rome Prophecy

68

Only when they get out of the pressure-cooker heat of the hospital and stand in the cold fresh air does Valentina realise exactly what she and Tom have to do next.

‘Shopping,’ she announces, with a certain sense of fun. ‘We’ve got to go shopping.’

She zaps open the Fiat and adds, ‘You look ridiculous in those things that you’re wearing, and I feel filthy in this stuff. I haven’t worn the same clothes for two days running since I first slept over at a boyfriend’s house.’

Tom opens the passenger door. ‘And that was how long ago?’

She grins at him over the car roof. ‘Ex-boyfriends are not the kind of thing a lady talks about.’

And that’s the best Tom can get out of her.

The journey into the city doesn’t take long, but Valentina spends a large part of it making calls.

Calls to fix a new place for them to sleep that night.

To her insurance company to inform them about the blaze at her apartment.

To Federico.

‘You okay?’ she asks Tom, as she finally hangs up. ‘You look lost in thought, and not a particularly pleasant one.’

‘It’s not.’

He watches a scooter almost rip off the passenger-side wing mirror. ‘We should think about some of the things Anna said.’

‘In particular?’

He’s not sure how much to speculate and how much to keep to himself. ‘You know how you and Louisa have been discussing whether Anna was abused as a kid, maybe by her own mother?’

‘It seems a way to explain her multiple personalities.’

‘Well, she mentioned sisters today. Did you notice?’

‘I did, but I couldn’t work out whether she meant blood sisters or sisters in some kind of organisation or movement.’

‘Neither could I,’ admits Tom. ‘Either way, she was indicating that whatever horror she’s mixed up in, there are other women involved. Maybe they’re at risk as well.’

‘Only women,’ notes Valentina.

Tom has to think back. ‘No. Not true. She mentioned Galli.’

She’s none the wiser. ‘And Galli is who?’ She slips the Fiat into a parking bay at Carabinieri HQ. ‘I’ve never heard of him before.’

‘Them, not he.’ Tom unbuckles his seat belt and waits until they’re both out of the Punto before he completes the explanation. ‘They were priests. Eunuch priests who existed hundreds of years before Christ. By the way, where are we going?’

She takes his hand. ‘Not far. Don’t worry, we’ll soon have you properly dressed. Eunuch priests? Did you know any?’

‘I knew some who should have been eunuchs.’ Before Tom can continue, a waft of wind fills his pink parachute of a shirt and puffs him up like the Michelin Man. It gives Valentina a fit of the giggles while she pats it flat. ‘Let’s hurry up; you must be freezing without a coat.’

‘No, I’m fine; I’m a super-tough American, remember.’

‘Of course you are. You keep on believing that.’

His clothes provide endless amusement as they walk along Via del Corso and duckinto a discount designer store full of fervent fashion fans. Young women nudge their beautifully dressed boyfriends and point him out with whispered asides. Trendily dressed Italian men slalom around him, as though just touching such unfashionable clothes might be sartorially contagious.

‘Do you see anything you like?’ asks Valentina, unable to stop smiling.

‘The exit. That’s what I’d like most.’

‘Understood!’ She grabs two packs of Calvin Klein boxers from a basket.

He looks surprised. ‘You know my size?’

Her eyes sparkle. ‘To the centimetre.’

Tom fries with embarrassment. He picks up a plain blue shirt from sale stock. Valentina shakes her head at him and heads for a rail marked New Arrivals.

Ninety minutes and almost a thousand euros later, she has him fitted out with everything from socks to a Dolce and Gabbana scarf.

Valentina has the sales assistant drop his old clothes in a bin behind the check-out and Tom leaves dressed in a long-sleeved white polo jumper from Collezioni Armani, a pair of Hugo Boss jeans and a new overcoat.

The air outside is icy sharp after the heat of the shop.

He takes Valentina’s hand, his other clutching a spray of shiny bags. ‘I feel like I’ve just been in one of those before and after makeover shows.’

‘Except the before was pretty good already.’ She checks her watch. ‘Now me.’

He looks shocked.

She points across the street to a snack bar. ‘How about you grab a table in there and I’ll meet you in half an hour?’

He knows he’s got off lightly. ‘You sure?’

‘I just saw how bad you are at shopping for yourself. Watching me choose clothes would be Purgatory, no?’

He thinks about doing penance and going with her, but she’s already on the move, so he lets her go and drifts towards the bar.

Valentina shops at lightning speed.

She resists the luxury of lingering over anything, and quickly collects a black wool trouser suit, white and black blouses, faded blue jeans and a monochrome cardigan.

Choosing underwear takes more thought and care than it’s done for a very long time.

She finds herself agonising in the shoe area before grabbing practical flats rather than a pair of high slingbacks that she’s sure were calling out her name.

Tom spends the time toying with a beer and thinking of Anna, her ‘sisters’ and the eunuch priests.

From what he remembers, the Galli were attached to a secret sect devoted to a prophetess who had followers spread throughout Greece, Rome, Anatolia, Crete and beyond.

He shuts his eyes and tries to recall everything he can about this strange pre-Christian era, when rituals and prophecies were the most powerful things on earth.

He’s still crawling through the dust of societies long crumbled when he notices Valentina standing over him. ‘Planet Earth to Major Tom, can you hear me?’

He rouses himself. ‘Sorry.’ He touches the nearly empty beer glass. ‘One drink and my sharpness has gone.’

She feels guilty about not letting him unwind. ‘I’m afraid we have to go. I got a call from Federico while I was in the shops. He’s back at the incident room and we need to start a briefing.’

‘No problem.’ Tom struggles to his feet, gathers his bags and traipses after her.

They walk briskly, a difficult thing to do in Rome. Not just because the pavements are crowded, but because they’re so uneven and the slightest rain turns them into ankle-twisting water traps.

Back at the station, they stuff their shopping in Valentina’s car, and steal a kiss before entering the grand old building. A slight hesitation and a glance over his shoulder tips Tom off to the fact that she’s looked for CCTV cameras first and then decided she really doesn’t care who sees them. A small act, but nevertheless one that sends a big jolt of warmth running through him.

Maybe this relationship is going to turn out to be even more than he’d hoped for.