He chuckled. “You’ve know me your whole life,” he said.
We were interrupted by a knock on the door and I rose to answer it.
“Wow, that is what you call a view,” Sam said as he strode across the room.
“Good time with your mum?” I asked.
“Aw, yes, bless her. She’s off to bingo now so I had to go. I mean, I’ve only flown halfway around the world to see her but I can’t interrupt her bingo.”
“Slight exaggeration but I get your point.”
Sam turned towards the sofa. “Oh my God, you found spooky kid?”
He picked up on the drawings. “I remember these, used to give me the shivers, in fact, I…Holy fuck!”
He looked from the drawing to Robert, then back to the drawing. “No way.”
He gently placed the drawing down. “I didn’t mean spooky kid as in, you know, horrible type spooky, just, like…”
“Normal spooky. It’s okay, Sam, I get it,” Robert replied.
“It’s got to be a coincidence, hasn’t it? I mean that’s not really you, is it?”
“Yes, that’s me. I lived in that house until my mom died. Those drawings were on my bedroom wall.”
“So you two have shared a bedroom since childhood,” Sam said then laughed.
His laughter died down when he realised no one was joining in.
“That is so amazing. What are the odds of that? And you didn’t know?”
“No, there was something familiar when we got to the front gate but I didn’t realise until I walked through the front door.”
“What’s the betting you went to our school? Bellgrove Primary? If you came out of your house and turned left, you walked to the end of the road then left, or was it right? Anyway, the school was there. Let me Google it.”
Sam pulled out his phone and brought up a picture of our primary school.
“Well I’ll be damned,” Robert said.
Sam clapped and bounced around a little. “So we’ve all know each other from primary school. That’s fucking awesome.”
“Not quite, Sam. I’m six years older, I think.”
“You think?”
Robert shook his head. “Is Robert Stone your real name?” Sam asked quietly.
The three of us stood in silence. I looked wide-eyed at Sam. Robert’s name was something I’d never questioned.
“I don’t know,” Robert said quietly, and for the one and only time, Sam saw his vulnerability.
I sent a silent thank you that Sam didn’t come back with some dumb comment, that he said nothing at all but continued to play around with his phone.
I sat back down on the sofa and reached for the room service menu. “Let’s eat something,” I said.
After selecting food and ringing it through Robert went to take a shower. Sam hadn’t spoken much other than to give his food order. It was when I heard a soft gasp that I looked up at him. He handed me his phone.
An old black and white grainy photograph was displayed. An old school photograph. Sitting on a bench at the end of a row of children was Robert.
“Don’t say anything. Can you copy that to me?” I asked. Sam nodded.
Robert had indeed attended the same school as Sam and I, a school within walking distance of our house. Obviously it was a few years before us according to the date across the bottom of the photograph. But this was evidence of a past, of a childhood he’d forgotten about. I didn’t want to stir up unwanted memories for him. His past was far more painful than mine.
Our meal arrived and was set out on the dining table.
“So what happens with the house and stuff?” Sam asked as we sat to eat.
“We’ve instructed a lawyer to deal with it all for us. They’ll contact the funeral directors and then sell the house and its contents,” I said.
“You don’t want to go to the funeral?”
“No, I don’t think I do. I’d feel like a fraud. I don’t want to mourn someone I don’t love, as bad as that sounds.”
“What about your dad?”
“Hopefully, in that bundle of papers, I’ll find out where he’s buried. If he’s buried, of course. Did you know David’s ashes are still on the mantel? I wonder if your mum will take them and scatter them with dad.”
“I’m sure she will. I’ll give her the keys. I said I’d pop back later tonight to see her.”
“Do you want to scatter them yourself?” Robert asked.
“No, it’s fine. I don’t need to do that. I don’t need to visit a grave to remember someone. He’s in here,” I said as I tapped my chest.
“If your mom doesn’t mind, we’ll give her name and address to the lawyer,” Robert said.
Sam nodded and gave him a smile. Something had changed there as well. Maybe it was the not knowing if Robert knew his real name that had altered Sam’s opinion of him. Not that Sam didn’t like Robert, of course, but there was friendliness to that smile that hadn’t been there before. Or maybe I just needed more sleep, more food, or to get home to my son. Maybe I was seeing things that just weren’t there.
****
We didn’t leave the suite for the rest of the day; Sam did though. He took the house keys and set off to see his mum again. Robert and I dozed, sat on the sofa and watched the river taxi and boats sail up and down the Thames, he took some calls and I spoke to Gerry. He was upset that I’d gone for a few seconds but then seemed to be having a wonderful time. I spoke to Evelyn who assured me she was staying put at the villa until we returned.
“Do you want to go through these?” Robert said.
He had been sat the dining table and was flicking through the paperwork I’d brought back.
“I guess so. What are we looking for?”
“They might have had life insurance, pensions, that kind of thing. You’ll need to let the lawyer know so they can be contacted.”
“Okay.” I took a seat beside him.
We divided the pile into two and slowly went through each one. Most of it was old bills or letters to people I didn’t know. As I got to the bottom of my pile, I came across a clear plastic bag. It contained what looked like letters. I opened the bag and pulled out the envelopes.
They were old and I held in a gasp as I saw what was written on the back. A name and my address were scrawled in a childish handwriting across the flap. The letter was unopened but it was the name that made me gasp.
Cynthia Stone
My hands shook as I turned the envelope over. One name was written on the front, no address.
“Oh my God!”
“What?” Robert asked as he looked at me.
I turned the envelope back over hiding the front and reached for another. Everyone had that same name and address on the back, that same name on the front.
“What?” Robert asked again.
“These…these are letters…”
“I can see that.”
“From your mum.”
“What?” He reached for the one I held in my hand. “How the fuck did your parents get these?”
“Maybe they were found in the house.”
He stilled when he turned the envelope over and saw the name written on it.
“What the fuck…?”
He handed it back to me. “Open it.”
With shaking hands, I opened the envelope. I pulled out a piece of purple notepaper and unfolded it. I read. And then I cried. Big fat tears ran down my cheeks blurring my vision.
“Tell me, tell me what it says?” Robert asked, his voice stern, fearful.
“I don’t know that I can.”
“Just tell me, God damn it!”
I jumped at the sound of his voice. I read aloud…
I’ve tried to contact you but I don’t know your address, only the name of the village, so I don't know if you’ll even get this. I don't know if you’ll even remember me. I was the blonde girl. We had fun together while I was there. The tourist, remember?
Well, I just wanted to tell you and this is going to be a shock,
believe me it is to me as well. I’m pregnant.
Don’t worry, you don’t have to do anything, and I don’t want anything from you. The kid will go into care. I don’t want to be a mum.
I just thought I’d tell you.
Cynthia, the blonde. And we did have fun, right?
There was silence, a pause before all hell let loose. Robert growled, then screamed before standing and lifting the table, tipping it over.
“Fucking bitch!” he shouted as he paced. He kicked furniture and smashed his fists against the walls and door. Pictures fell from the wall as it vibrated from his punches. “Fucking whore!”
I was shocked into paralysis. My caged animal had finally been let loose. Forty years of not knowing, of having no identity, of not being loved or wanted, of believing something that wasn’t true came crashing down on him.
He leaned his forehead against the wall. The phone was ringing, there was a knocking on the door. I ignored it all and walked to him. I slid under his arms to face him. I held his face in my hands and kissed his lips as he sobbed.
“Baby, it’s okay, it’s okay.”
“Everything I fucking believe is a lie. It’s. Not. Okay!” he shouted.
He smashed his fist into the wall on every word; flakes of plaster fell around my face and blood from his knuckles smeared across the cream paint. The knocking on the door grew louder and I heard my name being called. A few seconds later the door was opened and Gary came running into the room with a member of staff.
“It’s fine, we’re okay. Some bad news that’s all,” I said.
It obviously didn’t look good as Gary stepped forward. “Brooke, are you okay? Are you hurt?”
Robert spun on his heels; I grabbed his arm and was dragged along with him. The member of staff ran.
Gary stood his ground and I managed to get between them. It was like two boxers squaring up before the first round of their fight. They were virtually nose to nose. Robert was breathing heavily, his eyes fixed on Gary’s and his fists balled by his sides.
“Robert, look at me. Look at me now!”
I touched his face. I knew I could bring him down, I’d done it before. After what felt like ages, his eyes shifted to mine.
“Gary, go find that guy, tell him everything is okay. We’ll pay for any damage. Then come back here.”
Gary turned and walked away without a word.
“Take a deep breath, baby,” I whispered.
He slumped against me, and I held him up as best I could. I walked him to the sofa and let him fall. I ran around the room righting furniture just as Gary returned. He helped me lift the table back on its legs and I gathered the papers that had scattered.
“Is he okay?” Gary quietly asked.
“He will be. Thank you.”
“I heard from the room below; I’ll deal with the management.”
I nodded and he left.
“Did he fucking know?” I heard.
I picked up the letters and walked to sit beside Robert.
“No, baby. Look, she never sent them. He couldn’t possibly know.”
He waved his arm as if to knock the letters from my hands. I pulled them away before he could. I touched his face, ran my fingers down his cheek until he finally looked at me. He placed an arm around my shoulders and pulled me close.
“This day is so fucked up, it’s beyond belief,” he said. He chuckled bitterly. “At least I know my real name.”
He looked at me, and I looked into the face of…
Robert Sartorri, son of Rocco
Letter From Brooke
What can I say? I’ve shared nearly five years of my life with you, all the ups and all the downs. It’s been an emotional journey, a journey of discovery for both Robert and I.
The day after Robert discovered Rocco was his father, we returned to Italy. We sat with Evelyn, Travis and our family and read all the letters his mother never sent. We cried together. For Robert it was heart breaking at first. Uncle Frank was a married man, a man his mother was having an affair with and not the father he thought he was. He wants to track down Frank’s family; he feels he owes them something.
It took some persuasion for Robert to tell Rocco, and I don’t think I’ve sobbed as much as I watched two grown men, two men who have experienced such sorrow and anguish in their lives cry in each other’s arms. Robert wanted proof, scientific confirmation, which he got through a DNA test. Rocco didn’t remember Cynthia. He confessed to ‘dating’ many women, some local, some tourists. But it didn’t make any difference; for the first time in his life, Robert had an identity.
Because of that revelation a far more powerful crime dynasty was born.
Travis married Katrina as soon as we arrived back home in DC. It was a small ceremony, just family and our closest friends. She’s busy bossing him around, designing their new home that is to be built within the grounds of mine.
Gerry is back in therapy; we knew that would come. He’d repressed his emotions until the dam was just too fragile to hold it all back. It was the death of Smudge, his cat, from illness that tipped him over the edge. But I know my son. I know he’ll recover.
But the thing that gives me the most joy? Evelyn. She reunited with her true love, she also became the mother to the child she brought up when she married his father. They spend their time, like Robert and I, between America and Italy.
I framed those drawings of Robert; they hang on our memory wall in our home in Italy. I look at them daily when I’m there. Robert was my missing piece, the person I’d searched for, for years; the person that comforted me when I was a child without even knowing.
So is it the end? For Robert, it’s just the beginning, the beginning of having a blood family, of having a past.
Thank you for taking this journey with me, and it’s now time for me to move on with the next phase of my life.
Brooke x
THE END
About the Author
Tracie Podger currently lives in Kent, UK with her husband and a rather obnoxious cat called George. She’s a Padi Scuba Diving Instructor with a passion for writing. Tracie has been fortunate to have dived some of the wonderful oceans of the world where she can indulge in another hobby, underwater photography. She likes getting up close and personal with sharks.
Also Available…
Fallen Angel, Part 1
Fallen Angel, Part 2
Fallen Angel, Part 3
Fallen Angel, Part 4
Evelyn - A Novella
Rocco – A Novella
Robert
Travis
Coming soon....
A Virtual Affair
The Passion Series – Jackson
Letters to Lincoln
Rocco: The Missing Years
Marked by Rebecca Sherwin
Was I a killer? Maybe.
Was it an accident? Perhaps.
Did it happen at all? Who knows?
Me. I do. I know everything, and I know you’re dying for disclosure, but in order to give it to you, I have to go back to the beginning…way back as far as I can remember.
Back to the day Benny the Hunter was born.
Chapter One
The tears stopped coming eventually. She used to cry all the time; cold hard sobs of despair. I would sit with my back to the wall of the room next to mine and hold my hand against the sticky plaster. Anything to feel close to her. Anything to comfort her, even if she couldn’t see it.
I knew she couldn’t hear me, or see me, or feel me, but she was my mummy. I wanted her to smile and laugh like she used to when we baked shortbread.
When the tears had stopped and Mummy had cried herself to sleep, I looked around the cold, dark room and out of the window at the streetlights below.
The lights indoors went out a while ago. It was always so dark. It was cold, too. I could see my breath in front of my face as I watched the rain fall out of the window. The heating was broken too. The radiator hissed at me, making me jump, and I crawled across the
floor to my bed. I wanted my mummy. I knew she was afraid and I was too. I hid under the covers when I heard Daddy’s heavy work boots on the floor outside my room. My door opened so I squeezed my eyes shut and pretended to be asleep. I didn’t want him to come in.
“Fucking kids,” he said. “You’re the poison of the earth.”
I didn’t move.
I didn’t want to be poison. I didn’t want to be a kid anymore. I didn’t want to poison my mummy.
Daddy shut the door and I listened to his steps as he walked to the front door and left. The house was quiet. All I could hear was the sound of the TV from the living room. Daddy had left his music channel on.
I climbed out of bed and used my hands to find the door, open it, and sneak into Mummy’s room. I couldn’t see her, but I heard her move.
“Come here, angel.”
I crossed the room and climbed in bed with her. She hugged me tightly and I felt her chest shaking. She was crying.
“Sorry, Mummy.” I snuggled closer and stroked her bumpy face.
“What for, precious?”
“I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
“Oh.” She laughed a little bit. “You didn’t. I love you so much that it makes me teary sometimes. Good tears, angel. Good tears.”
She squeezed me again and squeaked. I think she was hurt.
“Daddy’s a good man,” she whispered. “Sometimes when men get angry, they make mistakes. He doesn’t mean it.”
I didn’t want to be a man, either. I didn’t want to be a poisonous kid and I didn’t want to be an angry grown-up. I didn’t know what I could be instead.
Mummy started singing to me – the song she always sang about the hunter who fed the poor children and saved them from the angry bear. When I was nearly sleeping, Mummy got us out of bed and carried me back to my room.
Fallen Angel, Part 4 - A Mafia Romance: Fallen Angel Series Page 29