Roberto found he couldn’t help himself and began to undress Donatella mentally. But as he did so, he became aware of a voice so sweet and pure it seemed to naturally belong in a place of worship. And it was a voice he had heard before. It was singing one of his favourite arias: ‘Sempre libera’, from La Traviata. Abandoning all thoughts of Donatella, Roberto cast his eyes forwards to study its owner.
She had grown several inches taller, but was still as slender as a reed. Her thick, dark hair fell in soft, shining waves below her shoulders. Her skin was pale and almost luminous by candlelight, with only a hint of colour resting on her high cheekbones. Her mesmerising brown eyes expressed every emotion of the aria she was singing. The voice was more mature now, having been trained and developed, but it was the same voice, the voice which had caused him to weep when it had sung ‘Ave Maria’ in Naples many years ago. The voice of a little girl who had now become a beautiful woman.
Rosanna sat down with a sigh of relief. Abi squeezed her hand. ‘You were wonderful,’ she whispered. ‘Well done.’
Paolo stood up. ‘And now, please welcome our two very special guests from La Scala, Anna Dupré and Roberto Rossini, singing “O soave fanciulla” from La Bohème.’
Rosanna stared at Roberto Rossini as he began to sing. It was six years since she’d seen him last. As she watched him, her heartbeat increased and her palms became clammy.
She had dismissed the way she’d felt about him all those years ago in Naples as a silly schoolgirl crush, but seeing him now, she knew that the feeling was real and still very much alive inside her. As Roberto’s voice joined Anna Dupré’s in a glorious crescendo, Rosanna remembered her ambition to sing with him one day, their talents united . . . it was a dream she fervently wished to fulfil.
The recital came to an end and there was loud applause as the artistes took their bows. Don Edoardo stood up and addressed the audience.
‘Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for your presence here tonight, to listen to what has been a most magnificent recital. And now, Sonia Moretti, chairman of the committee, would like to say a few words.’
Sonia joined Don Edoardo at the front of the church.
‘Ladies and gentlemen. Thanks to your generosity and that of the artistes of La Scala and students of the scuola di musica, this evening has raised almost ten million lire.’ Sonia waited until the applause had lessened. ‘But there is more. Here I have a cheque for Don Edoardo from Giovanni and Donatella Bianchi. They’ve been so moved by the sight of this beautiful church that they have decided to make their own personal contribution. Their modesty does not allow me to reveal how much they have Donated, but it will go a long way towards restoring Beata Vergine Maria to its former glory. Don Edoardo, please accept the cheque.’
Don Edoardo did so with a humble bow, then turned to the congregation. ‘I cannot express my gratitude to Signor and Signora Bianchi. I’m overwhelmed by their generosity. God bless them. Thank you also to each and every one of you for supporting our recital. I hope you will all return after the restoration work is completed, to see what a difference your patronage has made. Wine will now be served at the back of the church for anyone who wishes it.’
As the audience began to rise from the pews, Abi smiled at Rosanna as they walked down the aisle together. ‘This evening’s been a roaring success. I should think your brother will be over the moon.’
‘Yes.’ Rosanna’s eyes were shining with happiness. ‘It’s wonderful. Luca will be thrilled.’
‘Would you mind if I leave you to go and speak to him and Don Edoardo? I have an idea I want to discuss with him.’
‘Of course not. I’ll see you later.’ Suddenly, a hand touched her shoulder lightly from behind.
‘Excuse me for intruding.’
Rosanna turned and looked up into a pair of achingly familiar deep-blue eyes. Her heart began to race against her chest.
‘Rosanna Menici?’
‘Yes?’
‘Do you remember me?’
‘Of course I do, Roberto,’ she said shyly.
‘It’s many years since we last met in person, though my mother wrote to tell me of your move to Milan and of your mamma’s death. I was very sorry to hear the sad news. How is your papa?’
‘As well as can be expected. He misses Mamma very much. Tomorrow, Luca and I are going home to Naples for a week.’
‘Then do give him my condolences and best wishes.’
‘I will, thank you.’ Their eyes locked for a moment, the colour rising in Rosanna’s pale cheeks as they stared at each other. Roberto broke the silence.
‘So, as I knew he would, Luigi Vincenzi helped you?’ he said.
‘Yes. He was wonderful. He even arranged for Paolo de Vito to come and hear me sing at a recital in his villa last summer. Paolo offered me a scholarship and so here I am in Milan. And it’s all thanks to you, Roberto,’ she added softly.
‘I did nothing, Rosanna. It’s Luigi Vincenzi who should take the credit. And from hearing you tonight, I think he’s done an excellent job. I’m sure it won’t be long before you’re performing on the stage of La Scala.’ Roberto smiled down at her, his eyes filled with warmth.
‘You sang beautifully too.’
‘I’m glad you think so.’
There was another awkward pause between them.
‘Well,’ said Roberto eventually, ‘I’d better do my duty and mingle with the guests. It was so good to see you again, Rosanna. If you ever need any help or advice, you can always find me at La Scala.’
‘Thank you, Roberto.’
‘Goodbye, little one. Work hard.’
He waved as he walked up the aisle towards the crowd at the back of the church. Rosanna’s eyes followed him avidly, until one of the guests, eager to congratulate her, claimed her attention.
A few minutes later, Abi was back at her side. ‘I didn’t know you knew the bad boy of La Scala.’
‘What do you mean?’ Rosanna frowned.
‘Oh, my Aunt Sonia says that Roberto Rossini has the most terrible reputation with women. He’s been through most of the chorus and the soloists. Mind you, I’m not surprised.’ Abi shrugged. ‘He’s completely divine, don’t you think?’
‘I suppose he is.’ Rosanna was still watching Roberto.
‘And, by the way he was looking at you, I think you could be his next victim,’ Abi teased her.
‘Oh no, it isn’t like that at all, Abi. We both come from Naples and our parents were good friends. Anyway, he’s far too famous to be interested in me. And much older than me too,’ she added defensively.
‘Honestly, Rosanna, I’m only teasing you. Sometimes you can be so straight.’ Abi’s face broke into a wide smile as Luca joined them.
‘This is indeed a wonderful night, isn’t it, Rosanna?’
‘Yes. You must be very happy.’
‘I am. Thanks to Signor Bianchi’s donation, other guests have followed suit. Don Edoardo is still collecting cheques.’ Luca’s eyes were full of joy.
‘I think we should go on to a bar and celebrate,’ Abi suggested.
‘I’d like that very much, but unfortunately I must stay here and help Don Edoardo clear the church for Mass tomorrow morning.’
‘Never mind. Rosanna and I will go for a drink then,’ Abi replied.
‘Okay, but don’t be too late home, Rosanna.’
‘No, Luca. Ciao.’ Rosanna kissed her brother on the cheek.
The two girls said their farewells and left the church.
‘I know a place just around the corner where we can get a bottle of wine and something to eat. I’m starving,’ said Abi.
The bar was crowded, but they found a table and ordered some wine and two plates of pasta.
‘Cheers, as we say in England,’ said Abi, holding her glass aloft. ‘Here’s to wine, men and song,’ she laughed.
‘Cheers,’ copied Rosanna. ‘By the way, what was it that you wanted to talk to Luca and Don Eduardo about?’
‘Oh, I just thought th
at now the church is to be restored, it would be wonderful to reinstate a choir. Don Edoardo says they haven’t had one for years. I thought I could help, what with my contacts at the school, and they’d need someone to coach the singers, of course.’
Rosanna looked at her friend in surprise. ‘But with your schedule at the school, how will you find the time? Besides, you’ve often said you’ve no interest in religion.’
‘No, but I’ve definitely got an interest in someone who practises it,’ replied Abi artfully.
Rosanna stared at her. ‘You don’t mean Luca?’
‘As a matter of fact, I do. He looked so happy tonight,’ Abi continued. ‘He really does love that church, doesn’t he? But I do wonder what he’s going to do with the rest of his life. I mean, he can’t live through it forever.’
‘You didn’t know Luca before,’ Rosanna replied defensively. ‘He worked for Papa at our café and had no time for a life of his own. And he did it to pay for my singing lessons. If watching the church restored makes him happy, then I’m glad for him.’
‘Sorry, Rosanna, I’m not criticising him. Quite the opposite, in fact. As you might have gathered, Luca fascinates me,’ Abi confessed. ‘He’s so different from other men. I mean, most young men of his age have careers, girlfriends. Luca doesn’t seem to need those kinds of things.’
Rosanna took a sip of her wine and studied Abi carefully. ‘You really like him? In . . . that way?’
‘Oh yes, I’m afraid I do. Luca is so . . . mysterious. I think there are hidden depths, just waiting to be explored by the right woman. And now I’ve found a way to see more of him by organising a choir, I’ve got a better chance to find out what they are. You don’t mind, do you?’
Rosanna shook her head and chuckled. ‘Abi, you think of nothing but romance.’
‘What else is there to think about?’
‘Your future as an opera singer, for one thing.’
‘Oh, yes, there’s that, but I’m a sensible girl, Rosanna. I know I have a decent enough voice, but it’s nothing compared to yours. If I’m lucky, I might make it to the chorus, but I’m realistic enough to know that I’m never going to be the next Callas. So, unlike you, who’s wedded to her art, I have to think of men to stop me getting depressed when I hear you sing.’ Abi gave a mock smile.
‘Well, I think you have a lovely voice. You wouldn’t be at the school if you didn’t. Stop putting yourself down.’
‘Get real, Rosanna.’ Abi shook her head. ‘My aunt is a big noise on the fundraising committee. She’s married to a man who’s extremely generous to both the opera and the school. You don’t think this might just have had something to do with a place being made available to me, do you? In three years’ time, while you sweep into your rightful place in the company, it’ll be left to my aunt to pull strings and secure me a future at the back of the chorus. To be honest, I don’t know whether I want that. Charity, I mean.’ A shadow of sadness crossed Abi’s face. ‘Ah well, being here in Milan is good for my Italian and a little time abroad is what nice English girls should have before they settle down with a suitable husband.’
‘Then . . . maybe it’s me who’s odd.’ Rosanna took another sip of her wine.
‘In what way?’
‘Well, I don’t think about men – ever.’
‘Really?’ Abi raised a sceptical eyebrow. ‘When I saw you talking to Roberto Rossini tonight, you didn’t look completely immune to his charms.’
‘Roberto is different.’
‘And why is that?’ Abi looked at her intently.
‘Because . . . because he is, that’s all,’ Rosanna sighed. ‘Anyway, I don’t wish to talk about it. Oh look, here’s our spaghetti,’ she said, wishing to divert Abi from further questioning.
‘Well,’ said Abi beadily, raising her fork to attack the steaming bowl in front of her, ‘have it your way, but you don’t fool me in the slightest, Rosanna Menici.’
Don Edoardo and Luca were surveying the debris that still had to be cleared away.
‘Luca, do you remember me?’ A hand slapped his shoulder, making Luca jump. He turned round and swallowed hard when he saw who it was.
‘Of course. How are you, Roberto?’
‘I’m well, very well. It’s a small world, isn’t it? You’re living in Milan too?’
‘I’m taking care of my sister here,’ he replied stiffly.
‘Yes, I spoke to her earlier. She’s grown up since I last saw her,’ Roberto said. ‘And how is your other sister, the lovely, er . . .’ Roberto scratched his head.
‘Carlotta. She’s well. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must help Don Edoardo. Goodnight.’ Luca nodded curtly and walked swiftly away.
Registering the snub, and already unsettled by the stirring he’d felt on seeing Rosanna Menici again, Roberto was in a devilish mood. He crossed to stand next to Donatella and surreptitiously laid a hand on her firm behind.
‘Take care, someone might see,’ she whispered furiously, stepping away from him as though he were carrying the plague.
‘But your husband has left, has he not? I saw him walking out of the church earlier. And besides . . .’ Roberto leant in towards her and smiled wickedly. ‘I want you. Now.’
Fifteen minutes later, Luca found Don Edoardo slumped in a chair in the vestry.
‘Go home,’ he entreated the old priest. ‘There’s little left to do here, and you’re exhausted. I’ll lock up.’
‘Thank you, Luca. I will. Could you place these in the sacrament cupboard?’ Don Edoardo handed Luca an envelope full of cheques. ‘They’ll be safer here than with me at my apartment and I shall bank them first thing tomorrow. It’s been an extraordinary evening, hasn’t it?’
‘Yes, it has,’ Luca agreed.
‘And it’s all due to you, my dear friend. When the time comes, you know I’ll be recommending you most highly,’ he smiled. ‘Goodnight, Luca.’
When Don Edoardo had left the vestry by the private back entrance, Luca unlocked the sacrament cupboard and placed the cheques inside a tin box where they kept some lire to buy tea and coffee. Relocking the cupboard, he hid the key, then genuflected and knelt down in front of the small altar Don Edoardo used for private contemplation. He thanked God for tonight, and also for helping him discover the valuable silver chalice. He’d been disappointed when Don Edoardo had told him Donatella’s husband had said the drawing was worth very little; if that was the case, it was a pity they couldn’t have kept it here in the church. But Don Edoardo had been so grateful for the money from the silver chalice, he’d felt unable to refuse Donatella Bianchi’s personal request to buy the drawing.
Luca sat for a few moments longer in quiet prayer. Eventually, he stood up and, switching the light off, closed the door behind him. Walking along the side of the church towards the front door, he heard a noise from the direction of the altar. Luca turned towards it. Thieves? Heart thumping, he crept forward to investigate.
To one side of the altar, entwined on the floor, were a man and a woman. They were both fully clothed, but what they were doing was all too evident. The man lay on top, and beneath him, the woman groaned in pleasure, her legs curling round his back. The groaning reached a pitch and the man cried out, then collapsed, spent, on top of her.
Too shocked and dumbfounded to confront them, Luca ducked behind a pillar and watched as the couple stood up, straightened their clothes and walked arm in arm down the aisle. He knew exactly who they were.
‘Caro, that was so very wicked! I will call you on Thursday, yes?’
‘Of course.’ The man kissed the top of the woman’s dark head and they strolled towards the door as though nothing had happened.
The two figures disappeared into the night, leaving a horrified Luca and his desecrated church behind them.
He arrived home much later, his heart in turmoil. To perform such an act there . . . the sight had wiped the happiness of the rest of the evening from his mind.
He quietly opened the door to Rosanna’s room to che
ck she was safely in bed. Her light was on, the book she’d been reading still clutched in her hand, although her eyes were closed. Luca walked across the room to turn the light off.
‘Luca?’ Rosanna opened her eyes.
‘Yes, piccolina?’
‘Wasn’t it an incredible evening?’ she said sleepily.
‘I . . . yes, it was.’
‘What’s the matter?’ She frowned, propping herself up on her elbows. ‘You don’t look happy.’
‘I’m fine. Just tired, that’s all. Go to sleep now.’
‘Wasn’t Roberto wonderful? His voice is so beautiful and he’s so handsome.’ Rosanna stretched and yawned.
‘Rosanna, I don’t think Roberto is a good man.’
‘That’s what Abi said. She said he . . .’
‘What?’
‘Oh, nothing. Goodnight, Luca.’
‘Goodnight.’
Luca switched off the light and made his way to his bedroom.
That night sleep did not come easily. He couldn’t forget the dreamy look on Rosanna’s face as she had talked about Roberto – the man who had ruined Carlotta’s life and now could not even remember her name. Roberto, who had performed an act of sacrilege in his beloved church. Luca’s stomach turned every time he thought of it.
Although he tried to convince himself that Rosanna’s words had only been an ill-timed coincidence, his instincts told him that Roberto Rossini was not finished with his family yet.
13
‘Thank you for meeting me today, Paolo.’ Donatella smiled beguilingly as he sat down opposite her. The fashionable restaurant was already humming with well-to-do patrons. ‘Aperitivo? I’ll have a Bellini.’ She snapped her fingers imperiously to summon the waiter.
‘Then I’ll join you,’ agreed Paolo. ‘You are well, Signora Bianchi?’
The Italian Girl Page 10