The Italian Girl

by Lucinda Riley

  ‘Ah, well, you see, I like to surprise people.’ Abi pulled out a chair for their guest and Rosanna went to get another glass from the kitchen. ‘Pop in often, do you?’ She smiled mischievously at Stephen.

  ‘Fairly often, yes. Usually a little earlier than this, for my twenty-minute workout with Nico before he goes to sleep, but tonight I was delayed by a customer.’ Rosanna reappeared glass in hand. ‘I sold a painting today,’ said Stephen, smiling up at her.

  ‘Wonderful! Did you get the price you wanted?’ she asked him.

  ‘Almost. They were Americans and they paid cash, so I gave them a ten per cent discount.’

  ‘Then that definitely calls for champagne,’ Rosanna said as she filled the glass and passed it to Stephen. ‘Congratulations. I’m thrilled for you.’

  Abi raised her glass too. ‘Yes, well done. So, tell me all about your gallery.’

  ‘Well, rather than me boring you with details now, Abi, why don’t you come and see it for yourself? I’m having an exhibition for a local artist in a couple of weeks. Perhaps you can persuade Rosanna to accompany you. I’ve asked her and she says she can’t because she doesn’t have a babysitter.’

  ‘The girl from the post office has gone away to university,’ said Rosanna defensively. ‘And besides, Luca, my brother, will have just arrived from Italy.’

  ‘Well, he’s welcome too, of course. I’ll leave it with you, shall I?’ suggested Stephen.

  He left an hour later and Abi followed Rosanna to the kitchen and helped her prepare a salad to go with the fish for supper.

  ‘Come on then, spill the beans,’ Abi teased.

  ‘What “beans”?’

  ‘I mean, tell me all about you and Stephen. How long has your affair been going on?’

  Rosanna turned towards her, a horrified look on her face. ‘Oh no, Abi, you’re completely wrong. Stephen and I are just good friends, that’s all.’

  ‘My novels may be full of clichés, but even I wouldn’t lower myself to use that one.’ Abi raised an eyebrow.

  ‘But it’s true, really. Stephen sometimes comes to see me and Nico and we’ve all had a couple of day trips out for a picnic, but it’s nothing more, believe me.’

  ‘You swear?’

  ‘Yes, I swear. I like Stephen very much, but not like that. I . . . I couldn’t,’ Rosanna said, looking away.

  ‘Don’t tell me your thoughts are still with that husband of yours?’

  Rosanna forced herself to concentrate on draining the lettuce, her back towards Abi. ‘It’s simple, I shall never love anyone else again,’ she said quietly.

  ‘Oh God,’ groaned Abi, ‘that really is the kind of thing people say in my books.’

  ‘Don’t make fun of me, please. It’s seriously how I feel.’

  ‘But how can you still continue to love someone who’s done what Roberto has?’ she probed.

  ‘I don’t think love has anything to do with logic, do you, Abi?’

  ‘Maybe not. But just say Roberto arrived on your doorstep tomorrow, would you welcome him back into your home?’

  ‘I’ve thought about that often and I don’t really know the answer. Some days I think yes, if it meant taking the pain away, other days I think no, I could never take him back. Okay, supper is ready. Shall we eat?’

  Abi saw the distress in Rosanna’s eyes and nodded.

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  In the days that followed, Rosanna and Abi settled into a simple routine. They would chat for twenty minutes or so over breakfast, after which Abi would pile a large tray with a jug of mineral water and several chocolate bars and disappear up to the attic for the rest of the day as Rosanna and Nico got on with their usual activities. At six o’clock, Abi would emerge, her hair awry, her eyes glazed, and make herself a stiff gin and tonic. She’d then read to Nico while Rosanna prepared supper, and once he was asleep, the two of them would retire to the kitchen or the terrace to eat.

  ‘I’m beginning to see the reason why you live like a hermit here,’ said Abi one night after supper. ‘It’s so tranquil and calm, one day just falling into the next. There’s a sense of security about it. I shall have to watch that my reputation as a party girl doesn’t get too badly tarnished while I’m here. For the first time in my life, I’m happy to stay in.’ She smiled.

  ‘You’re working very hard, Abi. You must be tired.’

  ‘I am. I’ve had a birth, a divorce and a murder since nine o’clock this morning,’ she said, laughing.

  ‘Is the book going well?’

  ‘Very well. Another three weeks and I’ll be there. In London it’s impossible. The telephone rings, people pop round and, worst of all, there are those incredibly tempting shops and restaurants and parties. I think I shall always have to come and lock myself away in your house to write.’

  ‘You know you’re always welcome. And when Luca arrives, we’ll all do our best to be quiet,’ said Rosanna.

  ‘Oh, don’t worry. I’m so high up, the only noise I hear is the birds nesting in the eaves. What time is he arriving on Sunday?’

  ‘His flight lands at eleven o’clock. He’ll be here after lunch. I offered to pay for a taxi, but he refused and insisted he catch the train here.’

  ‘That’s ridiculous. Why didn’t you say? I’ll go and collect him. You and Nico could come too, but there are only two seats in my car.’

  ‘Abi, you don’t have to, really.’

  ‘Don’t be silly. It’s settled.’

  Rosanna stood up as she heard the telephone ring. ‘Won’t be a moment.’ She ran inside to the kitchen and picked up the receiver.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘It’s me, Stephen. How are you?’

  ‘Fine. And you?’

  ‘Great. I just rang to find out whether you and Abi were going to come to the opening of the exhibition next week?’

  ‘I don’t think I can, unless I find a babysitter, Stephen.’

  ‘Try, Rosanna, please. It would mean a lot to me to have you there.’

  ‘All right, I will.’

  ‘Great. Let me know. Excuse me for rushing off now, but I’ve still got a lot to do. Bye for now.’

  Rosanna made some coffee and took the pot and two cups out to the terrace.

  ‘Who was that?’

  ‘Stephen. He wanted to know whether we’re going to the opening of his exhibition on Wednesday.’

  ‘I definitely think you should go,’ Abi announced as she took a sip of her coffee.

  ‘I’d have to try and find a babysitter. I just so hate leaving Nico with strangers. And Luca will be here too,’ prevaricated Rosanna.

  ‘Well, that one’s easily sorted. You go and I’ll stay and babysit Nico, and Luca, if he needs it. It would do you good to get out, and Stephen’s been so kind to you, Rosanna, you ought to support him.’

  ‘Yes, you’re right. Don’t you want to come too?’

  ‘No. The writing is going so well and I’d like to keep up the momentum. We’ll have to bring one of your nice dresses out of mothballs. Even you must draw the line at wearing shorts and a T-shirt to an art exhibition. Now, shut up and drink your coffee. You’re going and I don’t want to hear another word about it.’

  Abi stood by the arrivals gate at Heathrow. She pushed through the sea of people awaiting loved ones behind the barrier, trying to get a better view.

  As she scanned the faces emerging from behind the automatic doors, she wondered whether Luca would be in full church regalia, with a little hat with a pom-pom on top of his head . . . or was it only cardinals who wore those?

  Her heart skipped a beat as she spotted him. He was dressed not in the uniform of the clergy, but casually, in a pair of rumpled linen trousers and an open-necked light blue shirt. He seemed thinner and more angular than she remembered, his high cheekbones casting elegant shadows on his pale face. There were a few flecks of grey in his black hair, adding a maturity that only served to make him – in her eyes – all the more attractive.

  Realising he was n
ot expecting anyone to meet him, she pushed forward and reached out to tap him on the shoulder before he could disappear into the crowd.

  Luca turned round, startled.

  ‘Abi?’ Warmth spread into his dark eyes. He dropped his holdall, took her by the shoulders and kissed her on both cheeks. ‘It’s so good to see you.’

  ‘And it’s good to see you too. You look well, Luca.’

  ‘Thank you. And you . . . you look just the same.’

  ‘Come on, let’s get the car. Your sister and nephew are on tenterhooks. Rosanna doesn’t trust my driving,’ she explained with a grin as they walked towards the car park.

  ‘It’s most kind of you to collect me.’

  ‘No problem, really.’ Abi fed some money into a machine and it printed out a ticket. ‘This way.’

  Luca stared admiringly at the red sports car, as she pressed a button to wind down the roof. ‘You must be doing very well, Abi. This car is expensive, yes?’ he remarked as he got in.

  ‘It was. I blew all my publishing advance on it,’ she replied as she started the engine. ‘You’ll understand now why Rosanna and Nico didn’t come with me. This car’s better than contraception. Every time I feel broody, I remember that I’d have to swap my two-seater for something sensible and I go right off the idea!’

  Luca didn’t reply as Abi stuck her ticket into the machine and the barrier rose.

  ‘Hold on to your hat, Luca. I aim to be home in two hours. I just love speed, don’t you?’ she shouted, her golden hair streaming behind her as they hit the motorway at eighty.

  ‘I . . .’ Luca’s voice was drowned by the wind rushing past and they spoke no more.

  Finally, after an hour and a half, they left the motorway and Abi slowed down.

  ‘There, I’m not a bad driver, am I?’ Abi asked.

  Luca unclenched his hand from the leather armrest as they approached a roundabout at considerable speed. ‘No, not at all, Abi,’ he grimaced.

  ‘You haven’t seen Rosanna’s house, have you? It’s beautiful.’

  ‘No. I’m looking forward to seeing it, and Nico.’

  ‘He looks like you,’ Abi commented, casting a covert glance in Luca’s direction. ‘Same slim build, straight dark hair, and your huge brown eyes.’

  ‘Really? He must be very handsome!’ laughed Luca.

  ‘Oh, he is, Luca, he is.’

  Rosanna was pacing up and down in front of the house, not noticing her son, who was taking the opportunity to dig with his hands into the soft earth of a nearby flower bed and then eat it. She heard the distinctive roar of Abi’s car while it was still a hundred yards from the house.

  ‘They’re here, they’re here! Oh Nico, what have you done?’ She picked him up and hurriedly tried to wipe the grime from his little fingers and face, but he squirmed out of her arms as the Mazda pulled to a halt on the drive.

  Luca leapt out of the car and ran towards Rosanna and Nico. Abi switched off the engine and sat quietly where she was, not wishing to interrupt the reunion.

  ‘It’s so good to see you, Luca,’ Rosanna whispered, tears pinching her eyes as she stroked her brother’s cheek.

  ‘And you, piccolina,’ Luca replied, equally moved. ‘You look well and healthy. And now, will you introduce me to my nephew?’ He knelt down beside his sister so that he was at Nico’s level and smiled at the little boy.

  ‘Of course. Nico, this is your Uncle Luca, who has come all the way from Italy to see us.’

  Nico allowed himself to be drawn into Luca’s outstretched arms and Rosanna was moved at the sight of them. ‘Come, bring your nephew inside and we’ll have a cold drink. You must be tired, especially after Abi’s driving.’ Rosanna led him towards the front door, then turned round. ‘Are you coming in, Abi?’ she called.

  ‘Yes, I’ll just pop the roof up. It looks like rain.’

  ‘Okay.’

  Abi watched them go inside the house together. She slammed her fists onto the wheel of her precious car in frustration.

  He was unobtainable. Completely. And yet she knew she still loved him.

  It was nine o’clock and Rosanna and Luca were sitting in the kitchen, the remnants of their supper still on the table. Nico had finally subsided at eight and Abi had disappeared upstairs as soon as she’d arrived back from the airport, saying she wanted to catch up on her writing. They hadn’t seen her since.

  ‘So, how is Papa’s lady friend? Would I know her?’ enquired Rosanna.

  ‘Do you remember Signora Barezi, the hairdresser?’

  ‘Of course. Two thousand lire for a bad trim,’ she grinned.

  ‘Well, they are very friendly. She was made a widow last year and they keep each other company.’

  ‘I’m glad. He’s been alone for too long. And Carlotta? You said you would tell me about her.’

  Luca’s expression changed. He’d been dreading this question since he arrived and he drew in his breath before speaking. ‘Rosanna, I am so sorry to tell you this. But Carlotta . . . is not well.’

  ‘Oh God.’ Rosanna’s heart sank to her stomach. She could read from Luca’s expression how serious it was. ‘What is wrong?’

  ‘Cancer, of the breast. It was removed two weeks ago, which is why I went to Naples, and she’s having treatment for cells affected in her lymph glands. They hope they have caught it in time, but . . .’ Luca shrugged. ‘It’s a waiting game and all we can do is pray.’

  Rosanna bit her trembling lip. ‘Luca, this is such terrible news. How is Papa taking it? And Ella?’

  ‘Papa’s devastated, of course, and Ella knows her mamma is ill, but not how bad it is.’

  ‘Poor little thing, or should I say young woman. She must be fifteen by now.’ Rosanna shook her head sadly, guilty that she hadn’t seen her sister or her niece for so long.

  ‘She is, and very beautiful too. Quite coincidentally, she has a lovely voice, just like her aunt.’ A sad smile touched Luca’s lips.

  ‘I’d love to hear it one day.’

  ‘I’m sure you will, Rosanna. Carlotta has all sorts of plans for Ella’s future. She’s obviously worried that if she dies, Papa will expect Ella to take her place and run the café.’

  ‘But, Luca, if she has a talent for singing, then that talent must be nurtured, surely?’

  ‘That is what Carlotta wishes, yes.’

  ‘I should go to Naples and see her. I could leave immediately with Nico.’

  ‘Don’t go yet, Rosanna. Leave Carlotta to have her treatment. It might make her feel she has very little time left if you suddenly appeared after so long.’

  ‘You make me feel so guilty, Luca,’ she murmured. ‘I would have loved to have seen more of Carlotta and Papa. I’ve missed them and Naples so much. But when I was with Roberto, returning to Italy was so . . . difficult.’

  ‘It’s sad he removed you from your family,’ Luca agreed.

  ‘Well, Carlotta and Papa could have come to visit me in England and they didn’t. Several times I offered to pay their fares,’ replied Rosanna, as usual defensive at the criticism of Roberto, even though she had left herself open to it.

  ‘You know Papa refuses to set foot on an aeroplane, and Carlotta . . . well, she too had her reasons for staying in Naples. Let us see how she responds to her treatment and then you can make plans.’

  ‘Surely, Luca, she’s too young to die?’

  ‘Yes, of course she is. And we must have faith that she doesn’t.’

  Rosanna was silent for a few seconds. Then she said, ‘Luca, was Carlotta’s life ruined by my leaving for Milan? If I hadn’t left, she would never have had to stay at home to run the café and care for Papa.’

  ‘I came with you to Milan, remember? I, too, left Carlotta behind.’ Luca shook his head. ‘What can I say? It was bad timing as much as anything. Carlotta made a mistake, which meant she had to pay a high price.’

  ‘What mistake? Marrying Giulio?’ Rosanna persisted.

  ‘Yes, marrying Giulio.’ Luca decided it was time he changed
the subject. ‘Now, Rosanna, I have something to ask you. Would you mind if I stayed on here a little longer than two weeks?’

  ‘Of course not. I’d love it.’

  ‘Thank you. I don’t have to return to the seminary until September. I need to do some thinking, and I believe this would be the perfect place.’

  Rosanna surveyed her brother. ‘Is everything okay, Luca?’

  ‘Of course, piccolina.’ Luca rallied himself, not yet able to voice the thoughts that lay inside him until he’d had a chance to ruminate on them himself. ‘I’m a little tired from the journey, that’s all. I’m so very happy to be here and to see your beautiful son. Abi thinks he looks like me.’

  ‘Yes. Now I look at you, I think he does.’ Rosanna stifled a yawn. ‘I, too, am tired. Let’s leave the clearing up until the morning. Unfortunately Nico will be awake in six hours.’

  They walked up the stairs hand in hand. At Rosanna’s bedroom door, Luca kissed her on both cheeks. ‘I always knew you were the most wonderful singer. Now, I see you are also the most wonderful mamma. You should be very proud of yourself. Goodnight, piccolina.’

  ‘Goodnight, Luca.’

  35

  Abi sat on the edge of Rosanna’s bed as her friend stepped into a short black cocktail dress. Following Luca’s revelation about Carlotta, it had taken all her powers of persuasion to convince Rosanna to still go out for the evening.

  ‘Could you do me up?’

  ‘Sure.’ Abi pulled up the zip.

  ‘Do I need tights?’

  ‘No, not with legs as brown as those.’

  ‘Good. Now, are you sure you’ll be okay? I’ve left the number of Stephen’s gallery on the pad by the kitchen telephone. If you’re worried about Nico, just ring and I can be home in twenty minutes.’

  ‘Rosanna, even I can stick a bottle in a child’s mouth and put him in his cot. Will you please stop fussing!’

  ‘Sorry.’ Rosanna sat down at her dressing table and began to add mascara to her eyes. ‘There’s food in the fridge for you and Luca and a bottle of wine—’

  ‘Shut up, Rosanna, and stop treating me as if I’m the same age as your son.’

  ‘Sorry,’ she repeated as she put on lipstick and brushed her hair.