by Liz Fielding
There was even her photograph of Lucia that he must have downloaded from her netbook when he was pretending to help her.
There was enough evidence to prove that she was innocent of the ultimate betrayal, but it hardly mattered. She might not have fired the bullet, but she had loaded the gun.
She was responsible.
She picked up the phone, made a call to the Headmaster, explaining that a family crisis meant that she was required at home. That no, she didn’t foresee any chance of her returning.
Then she called Pippa. She didn’t answer, but it didn’t matter. She only wanted to leave a message telling her that Federico hadn’t been having an affair. And that since his secret meetings meant that he could probably afford a new laptop, he would no doubt forgive her for wrecking his old one.
She spent the rest of the day cleaning the flat, emptying the cupboards, packing her bags. On Monday she handed her keys, along with a box of groceries, to Signora Priverno, called a taxi and, carrying her lemon thyme under her arm, dragged her suitcase back down the hill.
Nonna, having looked at the magazine, summoned the entire family to the villa to tell them her story. How she’d found her airman, fallen in love. That when the Conte returned, badly wounded from the war, she had nursed him. How, when he realised that she was pregnant, he had married her.
‘I was a mother for his son,’ she said. ‘And his injuries were such that he could have no more children of his own.’ She took her daughter’s hand. ‘He could not have loved you more if you had been his own. You were, he said, his gift from God.’ She turned to Matteo. ‘Where is Sarah? It is time I met her.’
‘She has gone home.’
‘You sent her away?’
‘She betrayed him, Nonna,’ Bella declared. ‘Betrayed us all.’
‘For what purpose, Matteo?’ Nonna asked. ‘A part in a film?’
‘No …’ The idea was clearly ridiculous.
‘Money?’
Money … It had to be that and yet it was hard to reconcile with the woman who had come to Isola del Serrone, lit a candle for Lucia Mancini. Prayed for her soul even though she knew she was not Lex’s lover.
‘Does it matter why she did it?’ he said.
‘What did she say to you when you confronted her?’
He’d forgotten how relentless Nonna could be and he caught a glimpse of the steel it must have taken to rescue Alexander Randall. Hide him for months. Keep him warm, fed. To keep her secret for a lifetime. Not just for her husband, but her daughter, her granddaughter. For Randall himself.
‘She said … “I’m sorry”.’
No attempt at excuses. No justification. None of Katerina’s pleading for him to understand.
He couldn’t get the sound of it out of his head.
Couldn’t erase the look on her face. As if someone had taken away her life.
It was Alessandra who spoke next. ‘This man, Alexander Randall. He is my father. Bella’s grandfather. Can we meet him?’
‘Matteo will go to England and invite him to return to Isola del Serrone. Meet a family he never knew existed,’ Nonna said.
‘No.’
She did not argue but instead got to her feet.
‘Nonna. Where are you going?’
‘Alexander built the first hives here for me. His bees will want to know that he is alive.’
‘Matteo …’ His aunt was looking at him. They were all looking at him.
‘No!’
‘Please.’
‘If you want to see him, then go and find him.’ He gestured at the magazine. ‘I’m sure if you offer them the chance to take photographs of the family reunion, they’ll fly you there first class. But leave me out of it.’
ITALIAN FOR BEGINNERS
There is a song that begins something like, ‘Thanks for the memories’.
That’s all I asked of you, Matteo—memories—and you delivered. I will carry always the memory of you on the path where Lex and Lucia said goodbye. Where we said hello. We were very good at hello …
I will carry the memory of tossing a coin, warm from your hand, into the Trevi, saying goodbye to my old life. You gave me the courage to do that.
I will treasure the memory of your face in the candle light in the courtyard of your home, in the moonlight as we made the sweetest love, in the sunlight as we cut grapes together.
I will treasure the nights we shared, the days, the laughter. Your precious trust.
I wanted to give you that, too. Memories to cherish. To bring a smile to your face one day years from now as you cut the first grapes and remember an Englishwoman who passed through your life. Shared a few of the stops on the journey.
Memories to make you ache a little when you lie awake in the moonlight remembering a long ago love not with sadness, but with pleasure.
Instead you will only remember me as another woman who betrayed you.
Lex warned me not to stir up the past and if I had listened to him, stayed away from Isola del Serrone, hadn’t talked to Pippa, your family would not have been exposed so brutally.
I knew, of course I knew, that your Nonna was Lucia the moment I set eyes on Bella, but I said nothing because it was Lucia’s secret and if I had been fortunate to meet her, I would have talked to her, told her about Lex, the life he had, we all had, thanks to her, but I would never have betrayed her secret.
All I ever wanted to know was that she was safe. That she was well cared for. To help, if she was not. Our family owed her that because without her courage, her love, my grandmother would not have been born. Nor my mother. And there would have been no Sarah Gratton.
Maybe you think that would be no bad thing, Matteo, and I cannot blame you for that. But I wouldn’t have missed a moment of knowing you, carissimo.
Grazie milione for the memories, Matteo.
The Italian was rubbish, but she was just a beginner and her books were packed in the bottom of her suitcase. The meaning, she hoped, was clear enough.
‘Siete la mia aria …’ Sarah whispered as her flight was called. ‘You are my air.’
She hit ‘publish’, knowing that Matteo would never read it. But it was a comfort to know that the words were out there, somewhere in cyberspace.
Motive … The word nagged at him. What possible motive would have driven anyone to expose his family in such a way?
Money, fame, revenge.
It had to be money. Nothing else made sense.
He prowled the empty palazzo, unable to sleep, drawn inexorably to his office, his laptop. The one remaining connection. Her blog. Would it still be there? Or would she have deleted it, as he’d attempted to delete her from his life.
He clicked on the bookmark. Dreading what might be there, what truth she might have revealed. But he had to know. He started to read.
Betrayed.
The word mocked him. Was it possible to hear the sound of a heart breaking?
Sarah had not betrayed him, he had betrayed her. Her truth, her love.
Self-obsessed to the point of paranoia, he had been judge, jury and executioner. The accused given no chance to defend herself.
If he’d needed a whip to beat himself with, her friend Pippa told him exactly what had happened when he contacted her. That her boyfriend, working in the press office of a government ministry, had used his press contacts to sell a story that he’d stumbled on. Used Sarah, who’d had no idea that his family was involved with her Lucia.
‘Rome wasn’t to your taste?’ Lex asked.
‘I loved it.’
‘But you didn’t stay.’
‘No. I messed up so badly, Lex. I was stupid, thoughtless. I hardly know how to tell you what I’ve done.’
‘Parla come magni,’ he said.
Speak as you eat. It was an expression she’d known since she was a little girl.
As a child she hadn’t even realised it wasn’t English. It was simply what he said when she had something difficult to get off her chest.
When she was o
lder, she’d assumed it was Latin. It was only when she’d heard people use it in Rome that she understood that it was something he must have learned during those hard months in Italy with Lucia.
She kept it simple, beginning with the moment she’d decided to go to Isola del Serrone and not stopping until Matteo had arrived with the magazine.
Then she showed him the magazine that Matteo had tossed onto her table. The photographs of his love, a daughter he’d never known. His lovely granddaughter.
By the end of her story they were both weeping and she reached into her pocket for Matteo’s handkerchief, dried his tears, dried her own.
‘She is well? Lucia.’
‘Rosa Lucia.’
‘Lucia to me. She was out searching for a stray sheep. I saw her light. Heard her calling.’
‘She is a contessa, Lex. A widow for many years, but well, active and, as you can see, Isabella is just like her. So lovely. Everyone adores her.’ She told him what Angelo had said. Told him about the opera. About the moment when she’d realised the connection. ‘I wasn’t going to say anything. Not to Bella. Not to Matteo.’
‘You did nothing wrong, Sarah.’
‘You told me to leave well alone. I should have listened.’
‘I’m glad that you didn’t.’ He leaned forward and kissed her head. ‘Go and tell the bees your story.’
She knew he wanted to be on his own with his memories, to look at the photographs of his daughter and granddaughter and she left him to it. The garden was chilly after Italy, but not for a November afternoon.
The sun was out, there were plenty of flowers and the bees were still making sorties into the garden.
‘Well, guys. You didn’t expect to see me again so soon. Lex will be down for a chat soon, I expect, to tell you all the news. That we have family we never knew about.’ They hummed quietly, going about their business. ‘As for me, well, I found someone, too. Just what the doctor ordered, in fact. Someone to make memories with. Someone I could have spent a lifetime making memories with.’
Matteo heard Sarah before he saw her.
‘The thing is, I didn’t mean to fall in love. That just wasn’t supposed to happen. I was in love with Tom, or at least still clinging to the notion that I was in love with him. I realise now that I’d already outgrown him but just wasn’t prepared to admit it. I had my entire life planned out. The house, the wedding, the dress, even the children. Two boys for Tom and a girl for me. To let go of that I needed to hit a bump in the road. Or maybe a rock.’
She was sitting sideways on a small bench, her legs up, her arms around them, her head resting on her knees, chatting away to the bees.
‘Tom ran into Louise. I hit Matteo. A head-on collision. It was as if someone had turned the lights on. Like watching The Wizard of Oz
when it turns from black and white to Technicolor, and here’s my problem.’ She swung her legs down, leaned forward, elbows on knees. ‘If I hadn’t been searching for Lucia I would never have met …’
Much as he just wanted to stand there and listen to her, it was like eavesdropping on a conversation with God, and he stepped forward.
She straightened up, looked at him, and for a heartbeat it was all there, in her face. Everything she was feeling. Everything he was feeling. Pain, joy, love. It was as if the world had paused, holding its breath, or maybe it was just him because, after a moment, she shifted over to make room beside her and continued talking.
‘If I hadn’t been searching for Lucia, I would never have met Matteo. Which would have meant I had no memories. And Lex wouldn’t know that his Lucia is alive and well, or that he had a daughter, a granddaughter. Try as hard as I might, I can’t regret that.’
She turned back to the bees.
‘That was really something. Coming face to face with Bella. I wanted to tell Matteo then, but I couldn’t, because it was Lucia’s secret.’ She paused. ‘Are you following this, bees?’
‘I don’t know about the bees, but you’ve got my total attention.’
She looked back at him. ‘How did you find me?’
‘I talked to Pippa. She had your address in her files.’
‘She could get the sack for that,’ she commented.
‘Do you think she would have cared? Once she knew what she’d done? I talked to your Headmaster, too. He’s expecting you back at work next Monday.’
She was staring at him. He couldn’t bear it …
‘Will they listen to me, do you think?’ he asked. ‘These foreign bees.’
‘I don’t see why not. As long as you stick to English. Try it.’
He sat for a while. ‘I don’t know where to begin.’
‘Parla come magni, caro.’
Despite everything, that prompted a smile. ‘You are full of surprises, cara.’ Then, turning to the bees, ‘Okay. Here it is. I didn’t mean to fall in love. It wasn’t supposed to happen. I met this woman and, despite the fact that night became day when I kissed her, I told myself that I could control it. That no one could touch me because I’d been burned so badly that there was nothing left but hard scar tissue. To feel … To trust …’ He leaned forward just as she had. ‘How can I tell you what it’s like to lose that? To find it again … Except you don’t. The minute there’s the slightest doubt it’s gone, you lash out because the pain is unbearable and then you realise you’re wrong, but there’s nothing you can do or say that will ever put that right.’
A bee settled on his sleeve.
‘They’re listening,’ Sarah said.
‘Will they hear me if I tell you how sorry I am?’ he said huskily.
‘They heard me. And I am sorry. I betrayed you and I betrayed Lucia.’
‘No … You asked for help from your friend.’
‘It wasn’t Pippa.’
‘No. Her boyfriend, Federico Priverno, is a Press Officer in a government department these days, but you weren’t to know that he was once a journalist. Not even Pippa knew that.’ She shook her head. ‘And you’re right, if this hadn’t happened, Lex wouldn’t know he had another family. If this hadn’t happened, Alessandra and Bella wouldn’t know they had a father, a grandfather.’
He continued, ‘Nonna never doubted you. She wanted me to come and bring you home. Bring you both home. And your parents, too, if they would like to come.’
‘And you?’
‘Lex and your parents are welcome, but the only person I care about here is you.’ He took her hand, lifted it to his lips. ‘Siete la mia aria, carissima. Will you forgive me? Come home with me. Trust me with your life as I trust you with mine? Take the journey with me. A thousand stops, ports, harbours.’
‘You’ve forgotten the desert island.’ ‘Not for a minute. I have one picked out for our honeymoon. I love you, Sarah.’ The bee flew away and he took her into his arms. ‘I want your face to be the first thing I see every morning. The last thing I see every night. To still be making memories together sixty years from now.’
ITALIAN FOR BEGINNERS
An Italian wedding is an amazing thing. The entire village is decorated with flowers and bunting. The square filled with tables, a small orchestra set up on a dais. Unlike weddings in the UK, the guests don’t arrive and sit quietly in the pews. They wander about, chatting and laughing and then, when the bride arrives at the church, they line up and applaud her as she joins her groom.
There is dancing and food—I cannot begin to describe the food—and the fountain in the square does not run with water, but with Serrone wine.
And that was just for my great-grandfather and my Matteo’s Nonna—his step-great-grandmother.
No. Just kidding. We married on the same day, a double celebration, and since a photograph is worth a thousand words, here are pictures to keep you entertained for the rest of the school year.
As for me, it’s farewell to Italian for Beginners. I’m now a fully-fledged Italian Contessa—so you’d better practise your curtsey for the next time I visit Maybridge. Until then,
Un milione
di baci! (That’s love and kisses.)
*
All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.
All Rights Reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Enterprises II BV/S.à.r.l. The text of this publication or any part thereof may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, storage in an information retrieval system, or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher.
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the prior consent of the publisher in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
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First published in Great Britain 2011
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of Harlequin (UK) Limited,
Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR
© Liz Fielding 2011
ISBN: 978-1-408-92079-4
Table of Contents
Cover
Praise for Liz Fielding
About the Author
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight