Luca served the pasta while Rosanna poured the wine. Then the three of them began to eat.
‘You know, you’re so lucky, Rosanna,’ Abi sighed wistfully.
‘Am I?’
‘Yes. I mean, this lovely cosy apartment, a brother who cooks like a dream and, most important of all, the freedom to come and go as you please.’
‘Abi stays with her aunt whilst she studies at the school,’ Rosanna explained to Luca. ‘Your aunt is very strict, is she not, Abi?’
‘Yes. She treats me as though I were ten. She’s English and thinks all Italian men will try to seduce me, even though her own husband is Italian.’ Abi rolled her eyes in exasperation. ‘I suppose she just feels responsible for my welfare. When I won a place at the school, my parents said I was allowed to take it on the condition that I lived with my aunt.’
‘You like Milan?’ asked Luca.
‘Oh, I love it,’ said Abi. ‘It’s so colourful, so vibrant, especially after dreary old England. Anyway, that’s enough of me. So, Luca, what do you do with yourself while Rosanna is at school? do you work?’
‘No, I—’
‘Luca spends all his time in a crumbling church just around the corner,’ Rosanna interrupted. ‘It’s his second home.’
‘I see.’ Abi raised an eyebrow.
‘Really, Rosanna. You explain it badly,’ Luca chided. ‘Beata Vergine Maria is a beautiful fifteenth-century church that’s in a terrible state of disrepair. I’m helping the priest there, Don Edoardo, to try and raise funds to restore it to its former magnificence, but,’ Luca shrugged, ‘it’s an uphill battle.’
‘Are you . . . I mean, you must believe in God and all that?’ asked Abi.
‘Yes, of course I do. And Beata Vergine Maria is a very special place. Don Edoardo has told me there have been miracles there, visions of the Madonna herself. I have a little time, so I try to help.’ Luca shrugged. ‘Something must be done soon, otherwise the stonework and the ancient fresco in the front lobby will be beyond repair.’
‘Have you thought of having a recital?’ asked Abi suddenly.
‘What exactly do you mean?’ Luca asked.
‘Well, my Aunt Sonia is head of a committee called The Friends of the Milan Opera. I’m wondering whether, if you wrote and asked her nicely, she might be prepared to ask Paolo de Vito if he’d allow a couple of singers from La Scala and a few of the students from the school to perform a recital in the church to raise funds.’
‘Abi! That’s a wonderful idea.’ Luca’s face broke into a smile. ‘Do you not think so, Rosanna?’
‘I do. Especially as it’s so close to La Scala. They can only say no, can’t they?’ she replied.
‘Well, you can write a letter to my aunt if I give you her address, then she can put it to her committee next time they meet.’
‘Of course. Thank you, Abi, really,’ said Luca gratefully.
‘Good. That’s settled then.’ Abi turned to Rosanna. ‘And maybe you and I could sing “The Flower Duet” from Lakme. We’ve been practising it in class.’ She smiled at Luca. ‘Of course, my voice is nothing compared to your sister’s, but then no voice at the school is.’
‘Please, Abi, you’re exaggerating.’ Rosanna blushed at her friend’s praise.
‘No, I’m not. You know as well as I do that Paolo goes into a swoon every time he hears you. He comes into classes all the time just to listen to you. I reckon you’ll be a solo artiste straight away when you join the company, leaving the rest of us to struggle through the chorus. Remember me when you’re a famous diva, won’t you?’ she teased.
‘Abi, of course I’ll remember you,’ Rosanna laughed.
‘There you are, you see,’ said Abi, winking at Luca, ‘she does know how famous she’s going to become!’
‘Damn, I’ve run out of cigarettes,’ said Luca. ‘Excuse me, I’ll go to the shop on the corner and fetch some,’ he said as he rose. ‘I’ll leave you two to your girls’ talk. I won’t be long.’
As the door closed behind him, Abi turned to Rosanna. ‘You know, I think I could develop a serious crush on your brother. He’s so kind and sensitive, on top of those devastating good looks. Mind you, in my experience, men like him usually turn out to be gay. He’s not, is he? You said earlier he’d never had a girlfriend.’
‘No, Abi!’ Rosanna was discomfited by Abi’s bluntness: it was a thought she’d had herself but never voiced.
‘Don’t look so horrified, Rosanna,’ Abi said apologetically. ‘I just thought I’d ask as it seemed pointless wasting my time on him if you knew for certain he was.’
Blushing, Rosanna changed the subject and Abi took the hint. The pair idly discussed their schedule for the following day until Luca returned with the cigarettes. However, she watched with renewed interest as Abi and Luca chatted easily over coffee, noting the body language and the eye contact between them.
At half past ten, Abi reluctantly got to her feet. ‘Thank you so much for supper. I’m afraid I’ll have to leave now, otherwise Aunt Sonia will start to worry. When could I come and see your church, Luca? I’d love to visit now I’ve heard so much about it.’
‘Sunday morning? Rosanna and I always attend the nine o’clock Mass there.’
‘Okay. Even my aunt can’t object to me going out to church! I’ll meet you here at eight thirty and we can go together. Ciao, Rosanna. Ciao, Luca.’
Luca stood up and kissed Abi on both cheeks. ‘Goodbye, Abi. Thank you for your wonderful idea. I’ll see you at Mass on Sunday.’
Rosanna saw her friend out, then returned to sit down at the table. ‘Did you like Abi?’ she asked Luca.
‘Very much. I think she’ll be a good friend to you, Rosanna. Her heart’s in the right place.’
‘She’s very pretty, isn’t she, Luca? I would kill to have her blonde hair. All the boys at school are in love with her.’ She was fishing now, remembering her conversation with Abi earlier.
‘Yes, I’m sure they are. Now, I’ll clear up the dishes, and you must go to bed, piccolina.’
‘No, I’m not tired. I’ll help you wash up.’
‘Okay,’ Luca acquiesced. He deftly piled up the plates from the table and took them through to the kitchen. Rosanna followed with the wine glasses.
‘You wash, I’ll dry,’ she said.
Brother and sister stood working at the sink in companionable silence. Eventually, Rosanna said, ‘Luca, have you . . . have you ever been in love?’
‘No, I don’t think so. Why do you ask?’
‘Oh, no reason. Abi thought you were very handsome.’
‘Did she?’
‘Yes. You are handsome, Luca. I mean, I’m sure girls like you.’
‘Rosanna, what are you trying to say?’ frowned Luca.
‘Just that, well, I know Papa asked you to look after me, but I’m a big girl now. I’m not frightened of being here in the apartment by myself. If you ever wanted to go out in the evenings, then you must.’
‘If I want to, I shall,’ Luca said, nodding. ‘But I’m happy being here with you, piccolina.’
‘Are you really happy?’ Rosanna asked.
‘Oh yes,’ said Luca. ‘Very.’
‘I just don’t want you to miss out on your own life because of me.’
‘Rosanna, the five months we’ve spent here in Milan have been the happiest of my life. And during that time I’ve found something that’s very important to me.’
‘What?’
Luca laughed at her dogged persistence. ‘You always did ask too many questions. All I can tell you is that I know where my future lies. When the time is right, I’ll tell you. I must have some secrets, Rosanna.’
‘Of course. I just want you to be happy.’
‘And I swear I am. Now, it’s time you went to bed. It’s late.’
Rosanna threw her arms around her brother. ‘Remember I love you very much.’
‘And I you,’ he said as he kissed her forehead. ‘Now, off you go.’
Once Rosanna had c
losed her bedroom door, Luca too went to his room and lit two small candles in front of the small statue of the Madonna which stood on the makeshift altar. He knelt down, genuflected and began to pray. For the first time since he’d made his decision, he felt his resolve shaken. He begged God to guide him, to explain to him why a young English girl had stirred such unusually strong feelings inside him.
Perhaps, he thought as he rose ten minutes later, it was simply a test. And a test which he would not fail.
10
‘Now, ladies, I suggest we get down to business.’ Paolo de Vito smiled glacially as he glanced round the table at the eight immaculately dressed women. They were sipping aperitifs in Il Savini and Paolo suspected the lunch bill for the nine of them would cover the cost of an entire term’s tuition at the school. He didn’t enjoy his monthly meetings with The Friends of the Milan Opera, but these ladies represented some of the wealthiest men in Milan, without whose continuing benevolence both La Scala and the school would struggle.
‘Paolo, I’ve had a sweet letter from a young man asking if we would be prepared to organise a recital to raise funds for La Chiesa Della Beata Vergine Maria,’ Sonia Moretti said.
‘Really? I thought we were meant to be raising funds for ourselves, rather than a church.’
‘Of course, but this case is rather different. Apparently, there’s a rare fresco in the church which will be irreparable if something isn’t done soon. And this church is very close to the school and La Scala, so it could technically be the company’s place of worship. Besides, it would give the students an opportunity to perform in front of an audience in aid of a needy cause. The letter was written by Luca Menici. I believe his sister is a student at the school.’
‘Rosanna? She’s one of our most talented pupils, along with your niece, Abigail, of course,’ Paolo added swiftly.
‘I was thinking that we might plan it for this Easter – hold a candlelight recital and ask a couple of members of the opera company to perform alongside chosen pupils from the school,’ continued Sonia. ‘I’ve popped in to see the church and it really would make a lovely venue. We ladies could arrange an impressive guest list and the price of the ticket could cover light refreshments.’
‘How many people will the church hold?’ enquired Paolo.
‘Signor Menici says around two hundred. So, how do the rest of you ladies feel about this idea?’
There was a general nodding of perfectly coiffured heads.
Donatella Bianchi leant forward suddenly. ‘I was thinking that Anna Dupré and Roberto Rossini might be suitable as the representatives from the company. I know Signor Rossini has a very strong faith and I’m sure he would be happy to help.’
Paolo raised a surprised eyebrow at Donatella’s supposition. ‘Right. Then I will think of a suitable programme and then decide who we ask to perform it. I agree it’s always beneficial to give the students an opportunity to perform and to learn from their professional counterparts.’
‘Now that’s settled, we must order lunch. I have an engagement at three and so should leave by half past two.’ Donatella raised an arm and a waiter appeared immediately at her side. ‘I’ll have the carpaccio di tonno, thank you.’
‘So, you will sing at our little recital?’ Donatella’s fingers trailed down the small of Roberto’s naked back. He’d arrived home from Paris two days before and they’d spent successive afternoons in bed at his apartment.
‘A recital at a crumbling church? I hardly think that will boost my career.’ Roberto turned his head to look at Donatella.
‘Maybe you would do it for me?’ Her hand slid under the sheets and caressed the inside of his thigh.
‘I . . .’
‘Please,’ she begged, as her hand travelled upwards.
‘I surrender.’ Roberto groaned and turned over, covering her mouth in kisses.
Afterwards, as she left the bed to take a shower, he lay sated, eyes closed, thinking he’d never known a woman like her.
Their relationship was based purely on sex and it was the best Roberto had ever known. Donatella asked no more of him than his body. She didn’t whisper words of love in his ear, or call him at two in the morning. She didn’t explode into a tantrum if he didn’t say what she wanted to hear. Roberto had recently begun to wonder if he’d finally found the perfect relationship.
Donatella emerged from the shower, wrapped in a towel. Her dark hair was clipped to the top of her head. From a distance she could be in her early thirties, although Roberto knew she was forty-five.
‘So, you will sing for us at the church? I know Paolo will appreciate it.’
Roberto sighed. ‘Yes! I have said I’ll do it.’
Donatella removed her towel and began to dress. ‘What are you singing this coming season?’
Roberto’s features tightened. ‘I don’t wish to discuss it. As usual, Paolo promised me more than he’s given me, so this will be my last season at La Scala. I won’t be renewing my contract when it ends next autumn. So, I’ve decided I’ll take one of the many foreign offers I’ve had.’ He sighed heavily. ‘Paolo dislikes me. That’s all there is to it. I shall never achieve glory at La Scala while he’s in charge.’
‘Caro,’ Donatella soothed him. ‘I understand what you’re saying, but who knows? You have such talent. I’m sure Paolo is only making sure you’re ready before he gives you the roles you deserve.’ Donatella tidied her hair in a mirror. ‘You’ll come to me at the palazzo on Thursday, yes? Giovanni is away again in London.’
‘Yes,’ Roberto acquiesced.
A few minutes later, Donatella opened the front door of Roberto’s apartment block and peered out, checking the darkening street. Then she hurried along the pavement towards her Mercedes, unlocked the door and slid into the plush leather seat.
She closed her eyes and let out a sigh of contentment. She’d had many other lovers, of course, most of them younger than her. But Roberto was different. In the past two months, she’d actually missed him, counting the days until his return from Paris. This feeling disturbed her, because she’d always seen her previous lovers as disposable. They performed a service, just as any other member of her staff did. She’d been disconcertingly pleased to see him in the past few days. But just now, he’d announced he was thinking of going abroad permanently.
As she started the engine and steered the Mercedes through the busy rush-hour traffic out towards Como, Donatella decided she must use all the weapons at her disposal to make sure he stayed.
Roberto Rossini deserved to be a major star. She would help him, not only because of his obvious talent, but because – Donatella could hardly believe the thought that had popped into her head – she was falling in love with him.
One thing was for certain: she had to keep Roberto in Milan.
‘Wonderful news, Rosanna!’ Luca passed the letter across the table to his sister. ‘It’s from Signora Moretti, Abi’s aunt. She says her committee has agreed to the idea of a recital at Beata Vergine Maria.’
Rosanna read through the letter quickly. ‘Luca, I’m so pleased for you.’
‘I must go and tell Don Edoardo. He’ll be very happy.’
‘Of course. But they say the recital will be at Easter, Luca,’ frowned Rosanna. ‘We were planning on going home to see Papa and Carlotta.’
‘We can go home the day after the recital, Rosanna. I’m sure Papa will understand. This means so much to me. Signora Moretti has said that two members of the La Scala opera company have agreed to perform.’ Luca’s eyes were shining as he spoke. ‘She’s suggested we charge fifty thousand lire a ticket. With two hundred or so guests, it’ll mean we’ll raise almost enough to restore the fresco. But, Rosanna, there’ll be so much to do! We’ll have to arrange for extra seating, decorate the church with flowers, organise refreshments . . .’
Rosanna watched her brother as he talked animatedly about the work involved. ‘Luca, what is it about Beata Vergine Maria that means so much to you? I’ve never seen you happier than you are
this morning.’
Luca looked at his sister, searching for the words. And discovered it was impossible to find them. ‘It’s hard to explain, Rosanna. It’s very special to me, that’s all I can say. Now, if you’ve finished breakfast, I’ll walk with you to school. I want to tell Don Edoardo the news immediately.’
Luca waved goodbye to Rosanna as she walked into the school, then quickly made his way to Beata Vergine Maria.
Don Edoardo was hearing confession, so Luca sat in a pew and waited until he emerged from the box and his parishioner left.
‘Excellent news!’ Luca said as he handed Don Edoardo the letter from Sonia Moretti. ‘We shall raise a lot of money, surely?’
‘Yes,’ the old priest nodded, enjoying the happiness on the face of the young man he’d become so fond of. ‘I think your Madonna will be very happy.’
‘I hope so.’ Luca stared towards the altar. His shoulders sagged and the smile drained from his face. He shook his head. ‘Even though, by organising this recital, I’m in some small way helping, sometimes I become so frustrated.’
‘I know, Luca, I understand.’ Don Edoardo put a comforting hand on his shoulder.
‘But I must be patient and wait. It’s part of His plan to test me, I’m sure.’
‘Well, let us pray together, for a blessing on this church and what we try to do to restore it.’
The two heads, one grey, one dark, bowed together in prayer. Afterwards, Don Edoardo made coffee and they began to plan for the recital.
‘We’ll need many more chairs, Don Edoardo. There is room for another twenty at the back by the font,’ said Luca.
‘There are some chairs in the crypt, but they’re old and dirty. Have a look, and if they are no good, perhaps we could ask the school to lend us some for the occasion.’ Don Edoardo passed Luca a large key. ‘There’s no electricity down there. Use the oil lamp hanging on the hook by the door. There are matches on the shelf next to the lamp.’ He checked his watch. ‘I must leave now – I have a bereaved mother to visit.’
When the priest had gone, Luca sat and stared at the statue of the Madonna on the altar. She hadn’t spoken to him again since that first wonderful day, but he could feel her calming influence all around him. Eventually, he stood up, walked to the door of the crypt and unlocked it. As Don Edoardo had suggested, he took the oil lamp off its hook and lit it before walking carefully down the creaking stairs, the lamp emanating a shadowy glow. He stood on the bottom step and cast the light around.
The Italian Girl Page 8