The Italian Girl

by Lucinda Riley

Donatella tapped her pen on top of the table and picked up one of the envelopes from the pile of post to write her farewell message on. It was a bank statement. On impulse, she opened it, looked at the amount at the bottom and saw he had over two hundred thousand dollars in his current account. Disinterestedly, she tossed the piece of paper aside. It wasn’t financially she wanted him to suffer.

  She pulled the pile of post towards her and began to work through it methodically. She opened bills, party invitations and several Christmas cards from females she’d never heard of, discarding them on the floor after a cursory glance. Then she came to a bulky envelope of thick cream vellum. The postmark was Italian. It was marked ‘Private and Confidential’ in the left-hand corner and had been forwarded from the Metropolitan Opera House. Donatella tore it open. Inside was a letter and another envelope. She began to read.

  Castellone Solicitors

  Via Foria

  Naples

  Dear Signor Rossini,

  I enclose a letter to you from my client, Signora Carlotta Lottini. She instructed me to send this letter to you on her death. Sadly, Signora Lottini died on 31 December 1982. I would ask you to confirm you have received it. If you need my assistance, do not hesitate to contact me.

  I look forward to hearing from you,

  Marcello Dinelli

  Lawyer

  Donatella picked up the second envelope, addressed to Roberto in spidery writing. Without further hesitation, she ripped it open and began to read.

  Several minutes later, after she had reread the letter twice, Donatella began to laugh. She laughed so much that her stomach muscles began to hurt.

  Eventually, wiping her eyes, she stood and looked above her.

  ‘Thank you, Lord, thank you.’

  46

  ‘Did you ask Abi, principessa?’

  ‘Yes, Roberto. She says she’s too busy editing her book to come here for the weekend.’

  ‘But I must see you. Can’t you leave Nico with Ella for two nights? You know how he adores her.’

  ‘No, Roberto. I know she’s almost sixteen, but it isn’t fair to give her that level of responsibility. Besides, I wouldn’t like to leave Ella alone yet either. She’s still grieving, remember.’

  ‘I am so lonely here, cara. I have this big hotel suite with a large bed. I need you with me,’ he moaned.

  ‘Don’t do this to me, Roberto, please.’ Rosanna was on the verge of tears.

  ‘I think you love your son and niece more than you love your husband. Well, I shall go and leave you to them.’

  ‘Roberto, that is so unfair. I—’ Rosanna heard the click of the receiver being replaced. ‘Damn you!’ She slammed the telephone down hard and slumped into a chair at the kitchen table.

  ‘What is it, Rosanna?’ Ella asked from the doorway.

  ‘Oh, nothing,’ sighed Rosanna. ‘Just my impossible husband. Take no notice. Would you like a cup of tea? You look half frozen. How was school?’

  ‘Fine, and yes, please, I’d love a cup of tea, I’m getting quite a taste for it! It’s very cold indeed out there. It may snow.’ Ella took off her coat, her school hat and gloves. ‘Roberto wishes you to go to Vienna, yes?’

  ‘Yes.’ Rosanna miserably threw two teabags into the pot. ‘I thought my friend Abi might come up for two nights and take care of you and Nico, but she’s too busy.’

  ‘Rosanna, you know I can take care of Nico. If you wish to go to Vienna, we’ll be fine.’

  ‘No, Ella.’ She added water to the pot and stirred it disconsolately. ‘I couldn’t ask you to do that. It wouldn’t be fair.’

  ‘But for two nights? We would be okay, really.’

  ‘You’re nearly sixteen, Ella, and—’

  ‘Yes, old enough to be a mother myself,’ she countered. ‘I was often left alone for the night when I babysat in Naples. It would cheer you up to see Roberto, wouldn’t it?’ Ella continued.

  Rosanna poured the tea into two mugs, added milk and sat down at the table. ‘When he came back, I understood that we’d be separated, but I’d forgotten how hard it was. It’s the same nightmare as the old days all over again. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be telling you my problems.’

  ‘You’ve listened to mine many times. You’ve been a friend as well as an aunt. I hope I can be your friend too.’

  ‘You are, Ella, and I’m very glad you are here. Honestly, I would have gone mad without you.’

  Ella smiled. ‘I’m happy you feel that way. You’ve helped me, Rosanna, so please let me help you. Telephone Roberto and say you’ll go to him in Vienna this weekend. I’ll at least feel I’m repaying some of your kindness.’

  ‘Thank you for offering, Ella. I appreciate it and I promise I’ll think about it. Now, I must go and wake Nico.’

  Rosanna stood up and left the kitchen. As she walked upstairs, she thought about what Ella had said. She was so tempted. Roberto’s absence had put her yet again on an emotional roller coaster. She picked Nico out of the cot as the telephone rang. Ella must have answered it, for the sound ceased after two rings.

  ‘How would you like to be a cosmopolitan little boy and travel round the world with me and your papa?’ she asked Nico as she laid him on his mat and changed his nappy.

  Carrying Nico back downstairs, Ella smiled at her. ‘That was Roberto. He called to apologise.’

  ‘Oh, did he now?’

  ‘So I told him that you’ve changed your mind and are flying to see him this weekend. He was very pleased. He said you should let him know what time you would be arriving in Vienna.’

  ‘But Ella, I—’

  ‘It is all arranged. And you cannot let him down now, can you?’

  Rosanna looked at her niece in an agony of indecision, then smiled gratefully. ‘Thank you, Ella, thank you.’

  On Saturday morning, Rosanna was awake at six o’clock. She showered and dressed, then went down to the kitchen and prepared some vegetables. She fried them with some minced beef and garlic, then added herbs and chopped tomatoes to make a bolognese sauce. She wanted Ella and Nico to have something tasty to eat that evening. While the mixture was simmering, she sat at the table and wrote down a lengthy set of instructions for Ella, starting from breakfast in the morning, right through to bedtime.

  Feeling silly because, after all, Ella was involved in Nico’s routine every day, she set them by the telephone, then added the Imperial Hotel’s number in Vienna, along with those of the local doctor and Abi’s flat in London. That done, she took the pan of sauce off the stove, put a lid on it and left it on the worktop to cool. She checked her watch and went upstairs to finish packing.

  Rosanna touched one of Nico’s cheeks. ‘He feels a little hot,’ she said, frowning.

  ‘He’s fine, aren’t you?’ Ella cuddled Nico to her as they stood together in the hall an hour later. ‘He’s been running around a lot this morning, that’s all. Now go, Rosanna, or you’ll miss your flight.’

  ‘Bye-bye, angeletto.’ She kissed Nico again, then picked up her overnight bag. ‘Any problems, please ring me at the Imperial, or call Abi or—’

  ‘I will! Go now, Rosanna. Please!’ Ella laughed.

  Rosanna sat in the back of the taxi and waved until the car turned out of the drive and she could see them no longer. What if Nico was sickening for something? He had felt hot, she was sure of it. She comforted herself that it was probably a tooth coming through, which always made his cheeks red. It was only her guilt making her paranoid. Besides, what was the point of going to Vienna if she was going to worry about Nico all weekend?

  With an effort, Rosanna turned her thoughts from her child and concentrated instead on the pleasure of seeing her husband in a few hours’ time.

  ‘Stephen, it’s Luca. I’ll be flying into London tomorrow morning.’

  ‘Ah, right. What time?’

  ‘My flight gets in to Heathrow at ten o’clock. I’ll catch a train to Cheltenham and I should be at Rosanna’s sometime after lunch. Could you come over tomorrow evening?’
<
br />   ‘Best that I don’t.’ Stephen was amazed that Luca still seemed unaware of Roberto’s return and his own subsequent departure from Rosanna’s life. ‘Look, I’m in London tonight. I’ll pick you up from Heathrow tomorrow morning and give you a lift up to Gloucestershire. We can discuss the situation on the way.’

  ‘That’s most kind of you, Stephen. I’ll call Rosanna and tell her what time I’ll be arriving.’

  ‘Right you are. Goodbye.’

  Luca put down the receiver and picked it up to call Rosanna. The line rang and rang. He put it down and decided he would try later.

  Ella heard the telephone ring, but Nico was having a rare screaming fit, banging his small knuckles into the floor and refusing to turn over so she could change his nappy. By the time she reached the telephone in Rosanna’s bedroom, it had stopped ringing.

  Nico had at last quietened in her arms. She felt his forehead. He did feel warm. Ella carried him downstairs to feed him some junior paracetamol as Rosanna had instructed.

  ‘Principessa! You are here, you’re really here!’

  Rosanna dropped her bag as she was swept off her feet and into Roberto’s arms. He carried her inside the suite and threw her onto the bed.

  ‘How I have missed you, how I love you,’ he moaned as he smothered her face in kisses and began undoing the buttons of her coat.

  ‘I must telephone Ella first,’ said Rosanna, pulling away from him.

  ‘Later, cara, later.’ His lips silenced her and she gave in.

  Afterwards, they drank a glass of champagne in bed and Roberto filled her in on his plans for the weekend. ‘Tonight there is a grand ball at the Hofburg Palace. We’ll go straight there from the performance.’

  ‘But, Roberto, I’ve brought nothing with me to wear! You should have told me.’

  ‘Go and have a look in the wardrobe, principessa,’ Roberto said.

  Rosanna got out of bed and walked across the room. There, next to his dinner jacket, was a dress sheathed in polythene.

  ‘I would have wrapped it but I thought it would crease. See if it fits you,’ he urged.

  Rosanna removed the polythene to reveal a shimmering black ballgown. It had a dramatic full skirt, fashioned from layers of floating tulle, and the strapless brocade bodice was covered in thousands of tiny beads.

  ‘Roberto, it’s the most beautiful dress I’ve ever seen.’ Rosanna took it off the hanger and stepped into it. ‘Can you do me up?’ she asked.

  ‘Most certainly, signora, if you promise to let me undo it later.’ Roberto hooked the delicate seed-pearl buttons into their fastenings and Rosanna surveyed herself in the mirror. ‘It could have been made for you.’ Roberto nodded approvingly.

  Rosanna turned round and, as she did so, the skirt caught the air and flew out. ‘Oh, it’s so wonderful. Thank you, Roberto. Thank you.’

  ‘You will be the most beautiful woman at the ball.’ He smiled. ‘And you’ll come to watch me sing Don José tonight, won’t you?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  Roberto kissed her neck and began to undo the buttons he had so painstakingly fastened only minutes before.

  An hour later, Rosanna was putting on her make-up and Roberto was getting ready to leave for the theatre. ‘Oh Roberto!’ Her hand suddenly flew to her mouth. ‘I didn’t call home.’ She reached for the telephone and dialled The Manor House.

  ‘Ella, it’s Rosanna.’ A frown crossed her forehead. ‘Why can I hear Nico crying?’

  ‘He’s a little tired, I think. And he has a slight temperature, Rosanna.’ Ella’s voice sounded tense.

  ‘Is he sick?’

  ‘He’s not eaten much today. I think he’s okay, but he’s not quite himself. I’m just going to put him to bed.’

  ‘Then I must come home immediately.’

  ‘What?’ whispered Roberto, overhearing the conversation.

  ‘Hold on one moment, Ella.’ Rosanna covered the receiver with her hand and looked at Roberto. ‘It’s Nico. He has a temperature. I—’

  ‘Let me speak to Ella.’ Roberto grabbed the telephone. He talked fast in Italian, nodding occasionally. Then he said goodbye and put down the receiver before Rosanna could retrieve it from him.

  ‘What do you think you’re doing? I wanted to speak to her again, to find out whether—’

  ‘Rosanna, please. I’ve talked to Ella and she says Nico has a temperature, but that is all. It’s nothing to worry about, cara. It could be teething, a little cold perhaps, but you running all the way home to England won’t help him. He’ll be fine in the morning, I’m sure.’

  Rosanna shook her head. ‘But, Roberto, what if he’s really sick? I’ve rarely known him to have a temperature before.’

  ‘Principessa, Nico has you twenty-four hours a day. I have you for forty-eight hours, then you will go home to him. Please, can you not put your son out of your mind and give yourself to me for the time we have? I’m beginning to think you’re paranoid about that child of ours.’

  Rosanna hesitated for a moment, fighting her maternal instincts, which were telling her loud and clear that something was wrong. But she didn’t want Roberto thinking she was being overprotective. Finally, she nodded. ‘You’re right. I’m sure he will be fine.’

  ‘Come now,’ he whispered. ‘Put on your beautiful gown and let us show the world we are reunited.’

  Ella rubbed Nico’s back until he finally fell asleep. Then she crept out of his room, doing her best not to disturb him. She went down to the kitchen clutching the baby monitor, and made herself a sandwich. She ate it without even tasting it, then went up to her bedroom and fell into an exhausted sleep.

  Rosanna sat in the box and surveyed the glittering spectacle beneath her. The Vienna State Opera House was one of her favourite theatres, perhaps because the ornate golden balconies reminded her of La Scala. She looked down into the pit where the orchestra was warming up. The usual frisson of excitement ran through her as she waited for the performance to begin.

  Tonight, the opera was Carmen. Don José was a role she had never seen her husband play and Carmen was a role she had yet to tackle. As the overture finished, the curtains swung open to reveal a Spanish town square. Rosanna sat back and prepared to be entertained.

  The role of the handsome, fiery Spaniard suited Roberto to perfection. His performance was electrifying and the audience were on the edge of their seats.

  ‘Ah, Carmen! Ma Carmen adorée!’ Roberto sang at the end as his lover’s dead body sank to the ground.

  Tears were spilling freely down Rosanna’s cheeks. She stood with the rest of the audience, who were stamping, clapping, throwing flowers and cheering ‘Bravo!’ They would not allow Roberto and his lovely Carmen to leave the stage.

  Roberto looked up at Rosanna and blew her a kiss.

  It was then she knew what she wanted.

  It would take a lot of hard work and a lot of sacrifice, but she would do it because she had to.

  ‘Principessa, you look radiant. Rarely have I seen you so happy recently.’ Roberto spun her round on the crowded dance floor of the Hofburg Palace’s magnificent ballroom.

  ‘I feel it.’ She smiled up at him. ‘I’m so glad I came.’

  ‘And I’m glad too. We are no good apart, Rosanna. You know that, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes.’ The music finished and Roberto stood for a moment, still holding her in his arms. ‘Roberto, before we go back to the table, I want to tell you that I . . . I’ve made a decision.’

  ‘And what is that?’ Roberto looked at her expectantly.

  ‘I want to sing again.’

  ‘Rosanna, that is the best news I could have heard. Just think! No more separations. Things will be as they once were.’

  ‘No, they won’t be the same, because we have Nico. But I’m sure we can make it work somehow.’

  ‘Of course we can. Now, let us go and drink champagne and toast to your return.’ He took Rosanna’s hand and walked her across the floor. ‘I’ll tell Chris tomorrow. I’m sure
that he’ll want you to sing Butterfly with me at the Met in July and . . .’

  Rosanna listened to Roberto’s excitement, knowing he was going too fast but not caring.

  She had done what he wanted and given herself back to him completely.

  47

  Ella awoke early the following morning and lay listening for noises from the baby monitor by her bed. There were none. She sighed with relief, hoping that yesterday’s problems were a burst of teething and that after a good night’s sleep Nico would be better. She got up, walked along the corridor and pushed his door open. She crept inside, went to the cot and leant over. Nico’s eyes were closed, but his hair was wet, his cheeks were bright red and his skin blotchy. She put a hand on his forehead and felt the heat. Swiftly, she pulled the covers from him and saw that his pyjamas were soaked through. She removed them, her heart beating a slow tom-tom against her chest, and Ella gasped as she saw the bright red rash that covered his body. Nico opened his eyes, gave a moan, then closed them again.

  She ran along the corridor, down the stairs and flung open the kitchen door. She looked down Rosanna’s list until she came to the hotel number. Picking up the receiver, she dialled the Imperial Hotel and waited for someone to answer.

  ‘Yes, hello. Could I please speak to Rosanna Rossini?’

  ‘I’m sorry, madam, but Mr Rossini requested that no telephone calls are to be put through to his room until further notice.’

  ‘But this is an emergency! His son is sick. I must speak to him or to Mrs Rossini.’ Ella was almost weeping with frustration.

  ‘All right, madam. I’ll try and put you through.’

  Ella waited in an agony of tension.

  ‘I’m sorry, madam, but there is no reply. Mr Rossini may have barred the phone in his room. I’ll ask someone to go up and knock on the door of his suite.’

  ‘Please, immediately,’ urged Ella. ‘Ask Mrs Rossini to telephone Ella at home. Say Nico is sick.’

  She replaced the receiver and then dialled Abi’s number. There was no answer there either. ‘Please let him be all right,’ Ella moaned as she called the doctor’s number.