by Monica Carly
‘Thank you for telling me,’ said Fran in a hoarse voice. ‘I know that cost you a great deal, but I’m so glad to have heard it all. I can’t tell you how glad.’
Then she squeezed Claudia’s arm before releasing her hold on it. ‘Tell you what! Race you to that small shelter!’
‘Oh no, I can’t run – not possibly!’
But Fran had set off and streaked towards her goal with effortless power. Claudia took a deep breath and began an awkward, clumsy movement that gradually speeded up to a kind of running step. Meanwhile Fran had reached the finishing line and turned to look back. She laughed as she saw Claudia coming towards her and held out her arms. Claudia laughed too, and when she finally drew level with Fran she fell into the outstretched arms.
‘Well done!’ cried Fran. ‘See – you made it! I knew you could do it.’
Claudia straightened up, patting her hair which had blown in the wind, and tried to regain her breath.
‘I don’t know when I last tried to run! But you challenged me – as you have done ever since you arrived on the scene – and I decided I wasn’t going let you get away if I could possibly help it.’
‘Good,’ replied Fran. ‘I’m glad about that. Very, very glad.’ She reached for Claudia’s hand, but instead of holding it, she wrapped her fingers round one of Claudia’s, gripping it tightly. ‘Believe you me,’ she added, ‘no one is going to separate us now.’
Together they walked back to the car.
Chapter 31
‘Now it’s your turn.’
They were sitting in a coffee shop, in Oxford Street, with several large carrier bags propped against their chairs. Tired out after searching rail after rail of possible items of clothing for Claudia, but flushed with success, they were having a break and enjoying a reviving cup of coffee.
‘I’m so glad you picked that royal blue jumper, and the scarf sets it off to perfection. You look really good in blue.’ Fran appeared not to have heard Claudia’s remark.
‘You don’t think it’s a bit bright?’ Claudia found it hard to relinquish the grey tones of the past.
‘I like the fact that it’s bright. At last you’re going to wear something really interesting and attractive.’
‘When I first saw it I thought I could wear it with a grey skirt.’
‘Why doesn’t that surprise me?’
‘Then you got me trying on those black trousers. I hadn’t realised how comfortable trousers were.’
‘And very smart they look too. What’s more, you can wear them with pride. You don’t stick out in any of the wrong places. And that stylish jacket – what a change from your previous “uniform” ones. I’d take you anywhere in that – it looks really nice on you.’
Claudia blushed. She’d never had anyone comment on her looks, not since … well, it was a nice feeling. ‘Thank you for your help,’ she said. ‘I would never have made those choices without your kindly persuasion. Fran …’
‘Yes?’
‘There are things I need to know. I’ve bared my soul to you. I risked hurting you when I told you how I had left you behind in the hospital. I was so frightened I might lose you.’
‘Would that have mattered?’
‘I don’t think I could have endured it a second time.’ Claudia stared at the cup of coffee. ‘And since then I’ve done some more thinking. I want to know why you came looking for me, and why you have been so persistent, in the face of no encouragement whatsoever. If you could live happily without me for almost forty years, why did it suddenly become important to you to find me?’
‘That’s just it.’ It was Fran’s turn to become pensive. ‘I didn’t exactly “live happily”, as you put it. I was well cared for by my adoptive parents, and no child could have had more love lavished on it. I know that, and for that very reason I’ve been puzzled by this insistent voice inside me that kept wondering who I was really was. You see, I knew I didn’t really fit in that home. Dear, dear people as they were, my parents lived in a tiny world that was quite enough for them – but it wasn’t for me. When I became curious about things, and started asking questions, they couldn’t answer me. When I grew up and began to achieve academically, I knew I had left them far behind. It was something they couldn’t possibly share. Dear Barbie, with her clichés which she brought out on every occasion – she didn’t know how to voice an original thought. And Percy was such a thoroughly good, kind man, but could never see beyond the immediate horizon. The older I grew, the more the conviction came to me that out there, somewhere, was the person who could tell me where I came from and why I am like I am, with these dark physical features and a brain that is never still.’
‘So why did you leave it until now?’
‘Barbie was very secure in her home, and with her little family, but there was one thought that tormented her. It was that I might not be satisfied with her as a parent and would go looking for my birth mother. She was convinced that if I found my natural mother I would no longer belong to her. So I made her a promise – and it was a very hard one, at the time. I promised her and Percy that I would never do that. I felt they deserved my loyalty, because they had done so much for me, and the last thing I wanted to do was to hurt them. So I have waited until they both died before starting my quest.’
‘Did you forget the idea, while they were alive, or did you always cherish the notion that one day you would go looking?’
‘Something happened to me one day – an incident that was very nearly the end of me. It was a long time ago now, in fact when I had just left school – but when I thought I was going to drown I suddenly knew with startling clarity that I didn’t want to die before I had found out. That day decided me, but I never told Barbie and Percy. I simply buried it until such time as I knew I could openly start the search.’
‘Oh, Fran – you nearly drowned? What a dreadful thought! To think you might have died! To think … well, it doesn’t bear thinking about. Whatever happened?’
‘Ah,’ said Fran. ‘That’s another story. Are you sitting comfortably?’
Then she embarked on an account of that day on the beach at Lantic Bay, painting a vivid description of the current that dragged her out, and the waves closing over her head. And she spoke of the boy who swam out to rescue her – a boy who wore odd shoes, with one heel higher than the other.
Chapter 32
Could there be anywhere more romantic for a honeymoon than Venice? Or any husband more handsome than Stefano? Maria stretched out in the huge bed, a contented smile on her face, her body enjoying the sensations of luxury and of being pampered. From the whirlwind wedding to the arrival at the Cipriani Hotel every moment had been full of excitement.
As for Stefano, wouldn’t any woman give all she had to claim such a prize? Wherever they went Maria was conscious of female eyes attracted immediately, enviously watching this handsome Italian go by with a pretty young woman on his arm. And what a night it had been! Italians certainly made the most wonderful lovers. Admittedly Maria’s experience of this was limited to one particular Italian – in fact, to one particular man, if the truth were to be told – but Stefano had been everything a young girl could want, charming, complimentary, gentle, lavishing words and deeds of love upon her until she felt she might burst with happiness.
Was it all a dream? It had happened so suddenly – Stefano proposing, then saying he wanted to marry quick, quick, with a special licence, and off to Venice for their honeymoon. The world in which she found herself now was full of dreamlike qualities far removed from reality. Take the Cipriani Hotel, for example, on the tip of Giudecca Island, with its luxurious accommodation and attentive service, an oasis of calm away from the bustle of tourists in the Piazza San Marco. Despite its proximity to Venice – a mere four minute boat ride away from its own private jetty in the heart of the town – the hotel provided a seclusion that offered protection and peace. Their bedroom, a room full of elegance and grace, adorned with opulent furnishings, had picture
windows down to the floor and a private balcony that ran the full length of the room. Here they could sit and have their breakfast, brought to them by immaculate waiters, and watch the boats going by. Then there were the amazing views over the lagoon, with the Doge’s Palace on one side and the church of San Giorgio Maggiore on the other.
Maria sighed. It was all too good to be true. Her only regret was that none of her family had been at the wedding. She had begged Stefano to wait a few more days until Claudia had returned from Oxford, and then she could have had both her father and sister there to witness the most important day of her life. But Stefano had insisted that it was to be very private, just the two of them, and then they would go straight off to Venice for their honeymoon. It seemed he had urgent business to attend to back in Italy, but there was just time to fit in the honeymoon, and then he would take her to meet his family. His mother and father would be in raptures, Stefano assured her, when he produced their pretty, young English daughter-in-law.
It was sad that her family could not have been included, but Maria had put that behind her now as she savoured the sheer joy of sitting in the romantic garden of the hotel, with its cypress, pomegranate and hanging maple trees, and its lavender bushes. Here, Stefano assured her, she could write letters on the hotel notepaper telling her family all that had happened. He was so certain that this would make up for any disappointment they may have felt at missing the ceremony that Maria was swayed, and spent the first morning composing separate letters to Claudia and Hugh. The things she wanted to say to her sister were, of course, quite different from the factual account she wrote for her father. Claudia would revel in hearing all the intimate details about her wedding and honeymoon, and would share her joy as she described how marvellous Stefano was. She just knew Claudia was going to love every word she wrote. For once she did not have to add any embellishments of her own – reality provided all the romance she could possibly want.
Stefano was busy making telephone calls, but when he had finished, and they had had lunch, they would take the boat and make that spectacular ride across the lagoon, where she would see all the famous sights. What an advantage to have such a guide! Stefano knew how to lead her through the labyrinthine passages of Venice, stopping so that she could enjoy an espresso, or make a purchase at some of the interesting and unusual shops. Maria decided she would buy a piece of Murano glass for Claudia. She felt sure she would love it. She would appreciate how special it was, with its elegant design and glorious ruby colour. But before they returned to their island haven, Stefano had a few more surprises lined up for her. She began to realise why he had been busy using the telephone.
First they would have a drink at Florian’s, and as they sat there looking out onto the famous Piazza, they could imagine past figures such as Dickens and Byron patronising the café. Secretly, Maria thought Claudia would have lapped up all that history with rather more appreciation than she did, but her ignorance in that department was amply compensated for by her appreciation of a very fine man when she saw one, and there was the very finest of them all sitting right opposite her, gazing into her eyes and making her go weak at the knees. Oh, to share all this with Claudia! She couldn’t wait.
‘When shall we go back to England, Stefano?’ she asked.
‘Is my little bird tired of her nest in Italy already? Perhaps she has grown weary of her new husband!’
‘Oh no, I didn’t mean that! It’s all absolutely wonderful here. I’m so happy and I love every moment of it. What’s more I can’t get enough of my amazing, handsome husband!’ She reached across the table and took his hand. ‘It’s just that I wondered what our plans were, that’s all, because I’m longing to tell Claudia all the amazing things we’ve done.’
‘I have a little business I must see to first, in my home town, so we can stay with my family for a few days. But let us enjoy our time here, and forget the future. That will come soon enough. For this evening, I have some very special plans for you!’
He was looking deep into her eyes, and all her sense of excited anticipation returned. She pushed aside any fears of what was to come.
‘Tell me!’ she cried, eagerly.
‘First we have the lovely romantic dinner at the Ristorante Masaniello – this is to be found in the Campo Santo Stefano – so how could we go anywhere else? And then I have booked a private ride in a gondola – just for two, through the little canals of Venice, by moonlight!’
Maria told herself she would never forget that evening. She felt sure she would repeat it to the point of tedium to her children and grandchildren. Dining on delicious Neopolitan cuisine in a fantastic atmosphere, blue oil lamps illuminating each table, sitting opposite her amazing husband, was little short of paradise. But there was more to come!
After a stroll to pick up their gondola at Bacino Orseolo, they settled themselves on plush red cushions in an ornately decorated black gondola with its crescent-shaped hull and metal nose. Their gondolier in his traditional black trousers, striped shirt and straight-brimmed straw hat with its red sash, took his place at the rear, and, using his single oar, skilfully negotiated them down small but enchanting canals, such as the Rio del Palazzo, where they went under the Bridge of Sighs. Just as the bridge was overhead Stefano kissed Maria tenderly. She looked at him in surprise. Stefano smiled.
‘We have a legend in our country that lovers who kiss here, under this bridge, while they are on a gondola, will be granted everlasting love and bliss. So, my bella Maria, I kiss you, and you will see, this legend will come true for us!’
Stefano decided it was politic to leave out the fact that it was supposed to be at sunset, since this had been several hours earlier, and the impact of his words would have been spoiled. Why do anything tonight to upset Maria? She looked so completely happy.
Their journey continued along small canals and then out into the Grand Canal where they passed under the famous Rialto Bridge. For much of the time their gondolier had been adding to the delight of their journey with renditions of O Sole Mio and other Italian love songs, in a powerful tenor voice.
Maria nestled close against Stefano and felt his strong arm around her. She closed her eyes for a minute, thinking perhaps she could make this moment last for ever, but then opened them quickly, not wanting to lose a single sensation that she could absorb.
‘This reminds me of punting in Oxford,’ remarked Stefano. ‘This gondola is not so different from the punt. Only there you must use the pole, not the oar, so I like more our gondolas, I think.’
‘You took Claudia punting, didn’t you?’
For a moment a pang of jealousy had shot through Maria, threatening to destroy the sense of well-being that had been paramount in her all day. Quickly she reminded herself that it was she, Maria, who had received Stefano’s proposal of marriage, not Claudia, and the disturbing feeling began to abate.
‘Oh, Maria – you must not mind that I went with Claudia to her summer ball! I wanted to thank her for her patience when she gave such a stupid man some English lessons. I had no plans to marry her, and I’m sure she did not want to have me – for she wants to be a teacher, spending her days in a room full of children, who will be much better pupils than Stefano was! That is what Claudia wants.’
Maria reprimanded herself for letting a negative thought threaten to spoil this perfect day. It was just as Stefano had said – she was the lucky one who had received his proposal of marriage, not Claudia. Of course Stefano was completely trustworthy! How silly of her to doubt for one single moment. She would never let such thoughts trouble her again.
As Stefano helped her out of the gondola and guided her back to the jetty for their short trip back to the hotel Maria felt wrapped in warmth and happiness. She sighed contentedly, confident that these sensations would last for ever. She and her friends had dreamed of romance – but here she was living it out in a way that exceeded all her girlish hopes and expectations.
That night was a night of tenderness and passion
, with very little time for sleep. In the morning she woke to the realisation that Stefano was shaking her.
‘Wake up, Maria. It is time for us to go. Today we have a journey to make. Now we leave this hotel and you will be so happy, for we are going to meet my family!’
Chapter 33
‘Suppose they don’t like me, Stefano?’
Anxiety had gripped Maria as they drove westward in their hired car towards Milan, where Stefano had been brought up.
‘Of course they will like you – they will love you molto molto! They will think you bellissima!’
‘They might much rather you’d married an Italian girl. I’m sure you must have met lots of lovely ones – Italy seems to be full of beautiful girls.’
‘Bella, they will look at you and think Stefano has found himself the loveliest little wife. Come, smile, Maria – your Stefano does not like to see your face full of frown.’
He reached across and squeezed her hand.
Maria relaxed. Of course it would be all right. Hadn’t Stefano shown her just how much he loved her? So how could anything spoil things now?
‘Tell me about your family. Who is living in your family home?’
‘There’s my mother and father, of course – their names are Giulia and Gino. Then I have two brothers – Daniele and Enzo, and four sisters – Luisa, Isabella, Susanna and Carmela. I am the oldest, and the next is twenty-four, down to the baby, Carmela, who is twelve. Daniele has a wife, Vittoria, and Luisa has a husband, Tristano. Then there are many cousins and friends, so we are always a big crowd, and it is hard to know who is actually living there.’
‘Goodness, it sounds quite a houseful!’