Three Hands in The Fountain

VIII

The activity of running down six flights of stairs ought to be enough to clear a tipsy head, but it just leads to bruises when you fail to negotiate the corners. Cursing the damage can attract unwanted attention.

'Falco! Come here! Tell me I ought to leave Smaractus.' 'Lenia, don't just leave him. He's a household pest; knock him down and jump on him until he stops squeaking.' 'But what about my dowry?'

'I told you: divorce him, and you can keep it.'

'That's not what he says.'

'Him? He told you if you got married you would have prosperity, peace, and a life of uncloying happiness. That was a lie, wasn't it?'

'It's a lie even he never tried on me, Falco.'

Maybe I should have stayed in the laundry and tried to console my old friend Lenia. In the old days I had spent half my time in the cubbyhole she used as an office, drinking bad wine with her and moaning about injustice and lack of denarii. Now, since she was still married to Smaractus, there was every chance he would roll in to join us so I tended to avoid the risk. Besides, I had a home of my own to go to, when other people stopped distracting me.

What I didn't know was that my home had been invaded by another pest: Anacrites.

'Hello, Falco.'

'Help! Fetch me a broomstick, Helena; someone's let a disgusting roach in here.' Anacrites was giving me a quiet tolerant smile. It really wound up my rope to straining point.

Helena Justina scrutinised me sharply. 'How was your friend?' She had obviously decided that having Petronius camping out in our spare apartment could threaten our domestic life.

'He'll be all right.'

Helena deduced that meant he was in a bad way. 'There's a pine nut omelette and rocket salad.' She had eaten hers already. My dinner was set out in a dish. There was slightly less than I would have served for myself, the omelette had gone cold, and it was accompanied rather pointedly by water.

Anacrites cast a few yearning glances, but it was made clear he was excluded. Helena was ignoring him. She disliked him as much as I did, although she had no strong views on his efficiency or character. Helena simply loathed him for trying to kill me. I like a girl with principles. I like one who thinks I'm worth keeping alive.

'Any chance of Petronius Longus going back to his job?' Anacrites had come straight to the point of his visit. Before his head wound he would never have been so obvious. He had lost his social guile and his sleek, seditious confidence. But his eyes were as untrustworthy as ever.

I shrugged. 'Balbina Milvia's a very pretty girl.'

'You think the infatuation is serious?'

'I think Petronius Longus doesn't take kindly to being told what to do.'

'I hoped there was a chance you and I could work together, Falco.'

'Anyone would think you were afraid of my mother.'

He grinned. 'Isn't everyone? I'm serious about this.' So was I, about avoiding it.

I continued eating my dinner. I wasn't going to joke about Ma with him. Helena deposited herself on a second stool alongside me. She linked her hands on the edge of the table and glared at Anacrites. 'Your question seems to be answered. Is that all you came here for?'

He looked flustered in the face of her hostility. His pale grey eyes wandered uncertainly. Since he'd been clouted on the head he seemed to have shrunk slightly, both physically and mentally. It was odd to have him sitting here with us. There was a time when I only ever saw Anacrites at his office on the Palatine. Until Ma brought him to our party he had never met Helena formally, so he must be wondering how to deal with her. As for Helena, even before he came to our house she had heard a great deal about the troubles Anacrites had caused me; she had no doubt how to react to him.

Ignoring Helena, he appealed to me again. 'We could be a good partnership, Falco.'

'I'm working with Petro. Apart from the fact that he needs to keep occupied, we're old team-mates.'

'This could be the end of your friendship.'

'You're a pessimistic oracle.'

'I know how the world works.'

'You don't know us.'

He bit back any rejoinder. I then kept my head down over my food bowl, making no attempt at conversation, until the spy took the hint and went home.

Helena Justina turned to face me. 'What's he up to, do you think?'

'I made my feelings clear the other day. He's behaving impulsively coming here again; I put it down to his crack on the head.'

'According to your mother he keeps forgetting things. And he looked very worried by the noise at our party. He's not right.'

'All the more reason not to work with him. I can't afford to carry a dud. Whatever Ma says, he's not up to it.'

Helena was still perusing me critically. I enjoyed the attention. 'So Petro is coping. And how are you, Marcus Didius?'

'Not as drunk as I could have been, and not as hungry as I was.' I wiped round my bowl neatly with the last of a bread roll, then laid my knife at an exact angle in the bowl. I drained my beaker of water like a man who was really enjoying her choice of drink. 'Thank you.'

Helena inclined her head quietly. 'You could have brought Petronius over,' she conceded.

'Another day maybe.' I lifted her hand and kissed it. 'As for me, I'm where I want to be,' I said to her. 'With the people I belong to. Everything is wonderful.'

'You say that as if it were the truth,' scoffed Helena. But she smiled at me.