Viper

40

Campeggio Castellani, Pompeii Martina Novello snorted contemptuously at the bed her daughter had clearly not slept in. 'Idiot.' Surely she could have waited. No, of course not. Rosa was never one for waiting. No waiting to have sex. No waiting to spend the night with a man who wasn't fit to clean her shoes. That girl – she'd been born early and been impatient ever since.

The sheets on Rosa's small bunk were pulled tight and tidy, just as Martina had made them, but she still couldn't help freshening them up, turning back the top sheet and re-creasing it. She smiled as she moved Benni, a tiny teddy bear, given to Rosa at birth and now losing his fur in several places.

Cristiano, her lump of a husband, lumbered into the caravan's awful chemical toilet, clutching yesterday's newspaper. Damned paper. These days he spent more time looking at newsprint than he did at her. When had that all changed? More memories tumbled in – Cristiano back in his twenties, with the body of a boxer, a twinkle in his eye and a permanent hard-on. So long ago, and yet still so vivid.

Martina wriggled her feet into blue slippers and padded outside to the neighbouring caravan. She'd give them hell for letting her daughter sleep over with that no-good Filippo. She rapped her knuckles on the cold thin metal of the Valdrano camper and a thought hit her. Rosa had never stayed out before, not all night, so why now? Martina could hear voices, mumblings inside, the scraping of furniture and the patter of feet on the thin floor of the cheap van.

'Buon giorno.' Filippo's mother had bags under her eyes and no make-up. Her cream dressing gown was pulled tight to reveal a pale neck and fatty legs.

'Claretta, is Rosa here? Is she with Filippo?'

The boy's mother sensed worry rather than anger in her friend's voice. 'No, I don't think so.' She walked towards the back of the van, slid open a wooden door. The empty bed told its own story. 'He's not there, Martina.' Fear creased her face as she stated the obvious. 'He's not at yours – not with Rosa?'

Martina shook her head. 'Your car's gone. Did you know that?'

Claretta stuck her head out into the wind and saw the empty space. 'Oh, God. Come in and shut the door. I'll wake Nico.'

And she did. But her husband had no idea either. Not about the kids. Not about the car. Nor did Cristiano when Martina called him over.

Claretta made coffee while they discussed the possibilities: an accident, an elopement, or something less dramatic and romantic – as Nico speculated. Maybe they'd parked somewhere and fallen asleep, run out of petrol, found a party and stayed but hadn't rung because it had been late. None of them spoke of anything worse. But they all thought it.

Two hours later Cristiano rang the police.