The Poison Keeper: An enthralling historical novel of Renaissance Italy by Deborah Swift

Author:Deborah Swift [Swift, Deborah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Quire Books
Published: 2021-05-18T04:00:00+00:00

‘And what’s wrong with what I do?’ His father’s jowly face was set in a scowl.

‘Nothing, Father,’ Fabio protested. ‘It’s just that I like doing decorative work, and this will give me more chance to do it.’

‘You can do decorative work here.’

‘Not like at Alfonso Garcia’s.’

You mean you’d rather work for some filthy Spaniard than for your own father?’

‘It’s not like that. I just—’

‘What will people think? My own son gone to work for someone else?’

Ah. Now we were getting to it. It wasn’t about what was best for him, but all about keeping Father’s good name in Palermo. It made Fabio even more determined to go.

‘I’m not asking you, Father, I’m telling you. There is more business in Naples, and my prospects will be better. I’d rather go with your blessing, but if not, then I’ll go without it.’

‘Then go. Stab your old father in the back, like you always have.’

‘That’s not true. You’ve always left the hard work to me, whilst you spend your days drinking yourself stupid in the taverns. That’s why you can only do basic repairs, because you can’t be bothered to lift a finger to do anything else.’

‘Hogshit. I travel miles to buy those hides, and all you do is ruin them with your fancy fiddling.’

‘At least I’m doing something. How many bridles have you repaired in the last month? One. Think the business can stay afloat without me? Well just you try. I’m going where my work will be appreciated.’

The door opened and his mother came in. A slight woman, brisk and dapper, she had her sleeves rolled up and flour on her apron. ‘I heard shouting,’ she said.

‘Fabio’s decided to leave home.’ His father spat out the words.

‘What?’ His mother’s eyes flicked from Fabio to his father.

‘Thinks he’s too good for us.’

She stepped forward, intent on soothing him. ‘Now, now, I’m sure that’s not—’

‘I’ll be packed and gone by the morning.’ Fabio felt the tight hard knot in his chest bring water to his eyes at the sight of his mother’s stricken face. ‘If you want to know why, ask him.’ He jabbed a finger towards his father, who stepped up, his fists raised.

‘You little sack of piss!’

‘Yes, Father,’ he shot back, ‘the answer to everything. Your fists.’ And with that, Fabio stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

Later, after he had cooled off, he returned, slightly shame-faced, to the house. The door was locked. He walked around the back but he couldn’t get in there either. Bastard had locked him out.

A whisper from above. ‘Fabio.’

He looked up. His mother was leaning out of the window. ‘He won’t let me come to the door.’

He saw she was dangling his favourite leather holdall from the window. He held out his arms and the holdall dropped into them, heavy as a baby.

‘Your tools,’ his mother said. ‘A little money and a few other chattels you’ll need. Those books you were working on. Write to me. I wish you well with Garcia, he was always

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