Three Hands In The Fountain

`I thought it would be safer sent to the vigiles. I didn't know you would have got yourself suspended,' I reminded him. He was not in the mood for logic.

Nobody much was about. For most of the afternoon we had skulked here virtually in private. I was hoping that my sisters and their children, whom Helena and I had invited for lunch in order to introduce them all to our new daughter in one go, would go home. When Petro and I had sneaked out not one of the guests had been showing any sign of leaving. Helena had already looked tired. I should have stayed.

Her own family had had the tact not to come, but had invited us to dinner later in the week. One of her brothers, the one I could tolerate, had brought a message in which his noble parents politely declined our offer of sharing a cold collation with my swarming relatives in our tiny half furnished apartment. Some of my lot had already tried to sell the illustrious Camilli dud works of art that they couldn't afford and didn't want. Most of my family were offensive and all of them lacked tact. You couldn't hope to find a bigger crowd of loud, self-opinionated, squabbling idiots anywhere. Thanks to my sisters all marrying down I stood no chance of impressing Helena's socially superior crew. In any case, the Camilli didn't want to be impressed.

`You could have written earlier,' Petronius said morosely.

`Too busy. When I did write I'd just ridden eight hundred: miles across Spain like a madman, only to be told that Helena, was in desperate trouble with the birth. I thought I was going to lose her, and the baby too. The midwife had gone off halfway to Gaul, Helena was exhausted and the girls with us, were terrified. I delivered that child myself- and I'll, take a long time to get over it!

Petronius shuddered; Though a devoted father of three himself, his nature was conservative and fastidious. When Arria Silvia was having their daughters she had sent him off somewhere until the screaming was all over. That was his idea of family life. I would receive no credit for my feat.

`So you named her Julia Junilla. After both grandmothers? Falco, you really know how to arrange free nursemaids.'

`Julia Junilla Laeitana,' I corrected him.

`You named your daughter after a wine?' At last some admiration crept into his tone.'

`It's the district where she was born,' I declared proudly.

`You sly bastard.' Now he was envious. We both knew that Arria Silvia would never have let him get away with it.

`So where's Silvia?' I challenged.

Petronius took a long, slow breath and gazed upwards. While he was looking for swallows, I wondered whatever was wrong. The absence of his wife and children from our party was startling. Our families frequently dined together. We had even survived a joint holiday once, though that had been pushing it.

`Where's Silvia?' mused Petro, as if the question intrigued him too.

`This had better be good.' `Oh, it's hilarious.'

`You do know where she is, then?'

`At home, I believe.'

`She's gone off us?' That would be too much to hope for. Silvia had never liked me. She thought me a bad influence on Petronius. What libel. He had always been perfectly capable of getting into trouble by himself. Still, we all rubbed along, even though neither Helena nor I could stand too much of Silvia.

`She's gone off me,' he explained.

A workman was approaching. Typical. He wore a one-sleeved tunic hitched over his belt and was carrying an old bucket. He was coming to clean the fountain, which looked a long job. Naturally he turned up at the end of the working day. He would leave the job unfinished and never come back.

`Lucius, my boy,' I tackled Petro sternly, since we might soon have to abandon our roost if this fellow did persuade the fountain to fill up, `I can think of various reasons – most of them female why Silvia would fall out with you. Who is it?'

`Milvia.'

I had been joking. Besides, I thought he had stopped flirting with Balbina Milvia months ago. If he had had any sense he would never have started – though when did that ever stop a man chasing a girl?

'Milvia's very bad news, Petro.'

`So Silvia informs me.'

Balbina Milvia was about twenty. She was astoundingly pretty, dainty as a rosebud with the dew in it, a dark, sweet little piece of trouble whom Petro and I had met in the course, of our work. She had an innocence that was begging to be enlightened, and was married to a man who neglected her. She was also the daughter of a vicious gangster a mobster whom Petronius had convicted and I had helped finally to put away. Her husband Florius was now developing half-hearted, plans to move in on the family rackets. Her mother Flaccida was scheming to beat him to the profits, a hard-faced bitch whose idea of a quiet hobby was arranging the deaths of men who crossed her. Sooner or later that was bound to include her son-in-law Florius.