by Lucy Gordon
'Say "Buongiorno",' Rosa told him in a stage whisper.
But the little boy hid his face against her and shook his head vigorously.
'He's shy,' Rosa said. 'Look, little one, here's a present for you.'
But he only shook his head the more and began to grizzle, clinging onto his sister.
'I'm sorry,' Rosa said, lifting him in her arms. 'I'd better take him back. He'll be better later.'
She hurried out with the weeping child. Vincenzo, who had been watching, said in a low voice, 'While we have a moment, there's something I need to know, although I have a horrid feeling I know the answer. If your husband simply vanished I don't suppose there was ever a divorce?'
'Not that I heard of.'
'So he was still married to you when he married Bianca. Bastardo! And Carlo is illegitimate. You've seen how it is with him and Rosa. He's one of the things that's holding her together.'
Something else linking her to her new life. Something else taking her away from her mother.
'Julia-'
'It's all right,' she said, shaking her head. 'I've got my breath now.'
She rose and went in search of Rosa. Hearing a murmur from behind a door across the hall, she followed the sound and found herself in a room with a bed and a cot. The two children were sitting on the floor.
'May I come in?' she asked tentatively.
Instead of hiding, the little boy giggled at her. Encouraged, Julia sat down on the edge of the bed.
'He doesn't mind me?' she asked.
'No, he's all right here,' Rosa explained, 'because this is our room. Befana brought him lots of presents this morning. Look.' She swept out a hand towards a merry pile. 'But this one is still his favourite, even though it's years old.'
She pointed to a blue furry rabbit that the boy was clutching, so old and shabby that much of its fur was gone. As Julia looked a strange feeling began to come over her, part ache, part joy. She had seen that rabbit before, long ago, in another life, when it was bright and new.
'Yes, it looks very old,' she said slowly. 'Who gave it to him?'
'I did,' Rosa said proudly. 'His name is Danny. He was my best friend when I was young.' She spoke as if she were a hundred. 'Mamma said that when we met I was clutching him and I wouldn't let him go. Papa was ever so cross.'
'Wh-why?' Julia asked in a shaking voice.
'He didn't like Danny. He kept trying to throw him away.'
Of course he did. Because he knew I'd given you that toy just before we were parted, and he wanted to wipe me out of your mind.
'When you say he kept trying to throw him away-'
'He did it again and again. Mamma kept rescuing Danny and giving him back to me. It's funny that she understood when Papa didn't.'
'She sounds nice,' Julia said carefully.
'She was lovely. She used to get cross with Papa because he wouldn't write home to the family and try to get some pictures of my mother.'
'She did that?'
'Yes. She'd ask me if I remembered my real mother, but he stopped her. I heard them arguing. He said she was my mother, but she said a real mother was special and nobody could take her place.'
So Bianca had been generous and kind. Julia felt a moment's gratitude to her, mingled with pity that she too had come under Bruce's spell.
'I don't think Papa liked my mother very much,' Rosa went on. 'He didn't keep any pictures of her, and he wouldn't talk about her. If I asked him, he always started talking about something else.'
'You don't have any pictures of her at all?'
'No,' Rosa said wistfully. 'I don't even know what she looked like.'
'You can't remember anything?'
'Oh, yes, odd things. She used to hold me close against her, and she smelled lovely. And she laughed all the time. I remember her voice too, not the words because I didn't understand them, but the way she spoke. She loved me. I could hear it.
'But I can't see her face. That's why it would be nice to have some pictures of her and me together, and it would be real again. Because she was real, and yet she wasn't. Like a ghost really. If I saw her I wouldn't recognise her.'
'Yes,' Julia whispered. 'I know what you mean.' Carlo made a small sound, demanding attention. Rosa took charge, arranging his arms more firmly around the elderly rabbit.
'Danny looks like a good friend,' Julia said.
'He's always been my good friend,' Rosa confirmed.
'But now he has to look after Carlo. I've explained that to Danny, so that he doesn't think I don't love him any more.'
'That was clever of you,' Julia said, 'Some things need to be explained in case people-or rabbits-misunderstand.'
Now she knew why Vincenzo had said the baby was keeping Rosa together. She had become his mother, responding to his needs and forgetting her own, feeding him, encouraging him.
She lost me at the same age, Julia thought. She knows exactly what to do for him.
And suddenly she saw herself, not as a mother alone, or a mother bereft, but as a mother in an eternal line of mothers, all loving a child more than themselves, whether or not it was their own child, and ready for all the sacrifices.
Whatever those sacrifices might mean.
CHAPTER TEN
When it came to serving lunch Rosa was in her element, taking charge of the kitchen, blithely disregarding the fact that Vincenzo was a restaurateur, and reducing him to the status of a waiter. Julia watched in amusement as he meekly obeyed her orders.
As the guest of honour she was served first and received constant attention. The meal was excellent, and she solemnly thanked her hostess.
'I was there too,' Vincenzo said, aggrieved.
'Yes, you were very helpful,' Rosa told him kindly. Behind her hand she told Julia, 'Actually Uncle Vincenzo did quite a lot.'
'Thank you, ma'am,' he said, catching her eyes and grinning.
She grinned back. Carlo joined in the laughter, banging his spoon on the table, and Julia laughed from sheer happiness.
Afterwards Rosa put Carlo down for his nap while the others got on with the washing up.
'I must take my hat off for the way you're coping,' he said.
'I've had to take a few deep breaths, but I'll be blowed if I let anyone know that.'
'Except me. Or don't I count?'
'In a way you don't,' she mused, not unkindly, merely reflecting. 'You already know the worst of me.'
'I know the best, too.'
She turned to him eagerly. 'Vincenzo, listen, something wonderful happened. Do you remember that rabbit I told you about, the one I bought her a few days before we were separated?'
He nodded. 'It's Danny, isn't it? I thought so as soon as I knew who you were. I remember the first time I saw her. She was clutching it tight. Her father didn't like that.'
'Yes, she told me. She also said that your sister kept rescuing it. She seems to have defended my right to be part of my daughter's life, despite everything he did to blacken me.'
'He cast you in a bad light whenever he could. I suppose he had to, in order to explain why he had no contact with your family. But, as you say, Bianca defended you.'
He stopped quickly as Rosa came back to say that Carlo was sleeping. She spent the next hour going through the books Julia had bought her, showing them to Vincenzo and carefully explaining any points that he might find too difficult to understand. Julia watched him with fascination, liking the way he didn't talk down to the child.
After that Carlo woke up and they all played magnetic fishing. Carlo went at it with great energy and crowed with delight whether he succeeded or not. Vincenzo was unaccountably clumsy, while Julia and Rosa, both equally dextrous, went head to head in a hard-fought challenge.
'I think that's a draw,' Vincenzo said at last through his laughter as the two competitors solemnly shook hands.
The phone rang. Yawning, he answered it.
'Gemma! Are you having a good day? Oh, I see-yes, it's a tough situation-you'd better stay. Don't worry, I can mana
ge. I'll just take my orders from Rosa. Ciao.'
He hung up. 'Gemma's elderly mother is feeling poorly and she wants to stay there tonight.'
'Lovely!' Rosa bounced with joy. 'Now Julia can stay with us. I'll make up the bed in Gemma's room.'
'Rosa,' Vincenzo said hastily, 'you're supposed to ask our guest what she wants to do, not just mow her down with a bulldozer.'
Rosa turned astonished eyes on Julia. 'But you do want to stay, don't you?' she asked in a puzzled voice. 'I mean, you don't really want to walk home alone in the cold and dark.'
'She wouldn't be alone,' Vincenzo said. 'I'd walk with her.'
'No way,' Julia said. 'You can't leave Rosa and Carlo here alone.'
'No, I can't, can I?' he realised.
'You see?' Rosa said triumphantly. 'And you don't want to do that walk alone, do you? Because it's terribly cold and terribly dark and you might fall into the water and you wouldn't like that.'
'I might even get lost and that would never do. It's very kind of you to ask me.'
'That's all right, then.' Rosa bustled away.
Julia choked with laughter, barely able to meet Vincenzo's eye.
'It looks like you're stuck with me,' she said.
'Oh, we've both been given our orders. She's a very assertive little character.'
'She always was,' Julia remembered. 'Even when she was Carlo's age she was strong-willed.'
'I wonder where she gets that from,' Vincenzo said wryly.
'No, you don't. You think you know.'
He grinned. 'It may have crossed my mind.'
'I'd better go and help Rosa.'
Together they put fresh linen on the bed in the snug little room. The look Rosa gave Julia was brim-full of delight.
We could be a family, she thought as they settled down for tea. I'm dreaming and if I pinch myself I'll wake up. But I don't want to.
Nothing happened to spoil it. A lull fell on the evening and they watched cartoons on television until it was bedtime.
Rosa departed with Carlo, then came back in her pyjamas.
'Carlo wants you to say goodnight to him,' she said, taking Julia's hand.
But they found him already asleep. Despite her efforts she felt her eyes blur as time shifted back to another dimly lit bedroom, another two-year-old, sleeping in perfect trust and confidence.
'Goodnight, my darling,' she whispered, leaning down to kiss his cheek. Suddenly she couldn't resist adding the words she had always said, all those years ago. 'Angels keep you.'
'What did you say?' Rosa asked quickly. 'It sounded like English.'
'Yes, it was English. I don't suppose you understand that, do you?'
'Not very well, but I've started English lessons at school. The teacher says I'm the best in the class.'
Of course you are, she thought, because English was your first language. At two and a half you knew three hundred words, and the last words you cried out to me were in English.
Rosa hopped into bed and held out her arms. Julia hugged her fiercely.
'Say it to me too,' Rosa begged as she lay down to be tucked in.
'Buonanotte, mia cara. Speroche gli angeli ti custo-discano.'
'No, like you did before, in English.'
'Goodnight, my darling. May the angels keep you.' She kissed her child, and sat there holding her hand until Rosa went to sleep. Even then she sat there, brooding, full of joy and sadness.
At last she backed quietly out of the room, and closed the door.
As she returned to the main room she could hear the phone ringing again, and then Vincenzo speaking in an angry, impatient voice.
'Look, don't call me at home, and especially during Epiphany. Don't you people have any families? I've told you before, the answer's no, and it's going to stay no. Goodbye!'
He hung up firmly.
'Well, that's telling them,' Julia said, going in and settling herself comfortably on the sofa.
'Someone wanting to buy the palazzo for a hotel,' he growled. 'It's like trying to swat flies. Kill one and there's a dozen others.'
'Piero once told me that you were dead set against it.'
'That's putting it very mildly indeed.'
'It's a pity. It would make a wonderful hotel.'
'Are you out of your mind? Sell my home?'
'Of course not. You turn it into a hotel.'
'Using what for money?'
'You get investors. Why not? Look at the Danieli. It started its life as a palazzo, in the fourteenth century.'
'That's true.'
'Put yours to use. Bring it back to life. Isn't that better than letting it fall into ruin?'
'It's already doing that.'
'So put a stop to it now. There's still time to restore it before things get worse.'
'Ah, now I see. You're touting for business. Mind you-it's an idea.'
'I don't know why you've never thought of it before.'
'Because I'm the world's worst businessman. All I saw was fending off the sharks who thought I was desperate enough to sell at a knock-down price. I just wanted to make enough money from the restaurant to keep my head above water, but that's not enough, long term.'
'No, and the best way to beat the sharks is to steal their ideas. You'll have your home back, not as it was, but more than you have now.'
'People don't live like that any more,' he mused. 'Not in the modern world. They either go into business, or the place goes under.' He smiled. 'Maybe it floods when there's nobody there to protect it.'
She nodded, smiling back at him.
'I'm getting dangerously light-headed,' he mused. 'You're filling me with crazy ideas and they're beginning to sound sensible.'
'Of course. I'll be your first backer.'
'Have you got any money to invest?'
'Not money. These.' She held up her hands. 'I'll renovate the frescoes for nothing, and that will be my stake. You'll have to do the place up and get some suitable furniture. It might be best to open it a wing at a time, and move the restaurant in there almost at once.'
'And what about the pictures that were sold?' he demanded. 'Even with investment I couldn't buy them back. Or do we open with bare patches on the walls?'
'Of course not. You put up copies, which is what you'd have to do even if you had the originals. The insurance company would insist.'
'And you're going to knock me out some copies, are you?'
'Certainly. I do a mean Veronese, and my Rembrandt is even better, although I must admit my Michelangelo isn't so hot.'
'Your-?'
'But we can put those in a dark corner and people won't notice. And don't forget you still own some pictures, stored upstairs. You can either hang them or use them to raise more cash.'
The words were pouring out now as the excitement of the idea gripped her. For a moment she was all artist and planner. Vincenzo regarded her with wry admiration.
'You've got everything worked out, haven't you?'
'Not at all. It came to me this minute, because of that phone call, but now it's all becoming clear.'
'Wait, I can't keep up with you.'
'You don't have to. Just say yes to anything I say, and leave the rest to me.' She added unnecessarily, 'I'm a very organised person.'
'So tell me what we're going to do.'
'We're probably not going to do anything,' she said regretfully, 'but if we were I'd say you ought to start making plans. It'll be Carnival soon-'
'In a few weeks. It'll take a year before we could open-'
'I know that, but you could have a big party there during this Carnival, and make a press announcement.'
'A party,' he mused. 'We used to have great Carnival parties there when I was a boy. Such costumes, such outrageous masks!' He gave a sudden grin, full of sensual reminiscence. 'If you only knew the things we did!'
'I think I can imagine. All behind the safety of the masks, of course.'
'Of course. That's what masks are for. When it all started, hundreds of years ago, ma
sks were forbidden the rest of the year. But in the last few weeks before Carnival anyone could hide their face, become someone else, and do as they pleased. Then you had all of Lent to fast and be good, and generally make up for it. The tradition lasted.'
'And did you usually have much to make up for?' she teased.
'Well-' he said in a considering tone. 'A moderate amount.'
'Hmm!'
'Perhaps a bit more than that. When you're a young man-' He stopped with the air of someone choosing his words carefully.
'Go on,' she encouraged.
'Let's just say that self-restraint wasn't considered a virtue.'
'I suppose being a Montese helped.'
'Nonsense. With the mask on, nobody knew who I was.'
'Oh, yeah?' she said with hilarious cynicism.
'Well-maybe.' Again there was the grin, recalling days of delight, before the crushing burdens descended.
'I'll bet the girls were queuing up halfway across St Mark's Square.'
He looked offended. 'What do you mean, halfway across?' He stared into his glass of red wine, seeing it all there, the whirling colours and wild faces, the dangerous freedom and the dangerous use he'd sometimes made of it.
He'd loved that sense of wonderful things about to happen, but it had gone from his life, fading away down the winding alleys, like his outrageous youth.
Only once, recently, had he recaptured that feeling: in the darkness of a hot, sweet night with a woman in his arms who had maddened and intrigued him from the first moment. She had made love to him with a fervour and abandon that had startled even while it had thrilled him.
Afterwards he had told himself that she was his, and it was the biggest mistake he had ever made. But for those few riotous hours he'd known that she belonged in Carnival, beautiful, secret, unpredictable.
'Your face gives you away,' Julia said, watching him.
That startled him. 'What am I thinking?'
'You're remembering your wild youth.'
'Well-yes, but there was a bit more to it than that.' He looked at her leaning back against the cushions, her eyes bright.
'I wish I'd known you then.'
'You might not have liked me. I was a bit of a hooligan, the way young men tend to be when they have too much money and are too much indulged. You know what happened to my family. The fact is that when the crash came I wasn't very well equipped to cope. Too spoiled. Too used to my own way.'