The Italian Girl (38 page)

Rosanna digested this. ‘Well, it must be people like us who are different then. Roberto was only away for a few weeks before he became involved with someone else. Men seem to have affairs all the time and wives always seem to be forgiving their husbands, especially if they’re rich, handsome and famous. Me, I couldn’t excuse it.’

‘Has Roberto tried to change your mind?’

‘No. I haven’t heard a word from him since I threw him out. Sometimes, I wish I
had
forgiven him.’ Rosanna sighed, knowing she was on the verge of tears. ‘Excuse me, it’s almost a year since he left and . . .’

‘Don’t mind me. All I can say, from bitter experience, is that it does get better eventually.’

‘No.’ Rosanna shook her head wearily. ‘It won’t get better.’

‘Trust me, it will. Love is a kind of addiction. You have to wean yourself off it and not punish yourself if sometimes you feel you’ll never recover.’

‘I wish I was like Abi. She has lots of boyfriends but never loses her heart,’ Rosanna remarked.

‘Don’t you think that might be because she hasn’t found the right man?’

‘Maybe you’re right. Abi was in love with my brother when she was younger. And since then it seems she can’t settle with anyone.’

‘What happened?’

‘He entered a seminary!’ Rosanna managed a wry chuckle.

‘I see.’ Stephen also smiled. ‘Well, nobody has it easy.’

‘No, they don’t,’ she agreed.

He looked at his watch. ‘Is that the time? I really must be going,’ he said reluctantly. ‘It’s getting late and I’m sure you’re up early in the morning.’

‘Yes. Nico is at his most lively at about six.’

Stephen stood up. ‘Rosanna, thank you so much for a lovely evening.’

‘Next time you must come when Nico is awake,’ she found herself saying as they walked towards his car.

‘I’d love to.’ Stephen hesitated for a moment. ‘Are you busy this weekend?’

‘No.’ Rosanna almost laughed out loud at the thought of her untouched diary gathering dust on the desk in the study.

‘Well, why don’t I come over on Sunday and take you and Nico into Cheltenham? You could see the gallery, and we could have a picnic in Montpellier Gardens if the weather’s nice.’

‘I . . .’

‘Please, Rosanna. It might be fun and I’m sure Nico would enjoy it.’

‘Okay,’ she agreed as she followed him to the front door.

‘I’ll pick you up at eleven thirty.’

‘Fine.’

‘If you organise the food, I’ll sort out the drink. Now, go inside, it’s getting chilly. Goodnight, Rosanna.’

She watched the car drive off before she made her way towards the terrace and began to clear the table.

A little later, she crept into Nico’s room to check he was sleeping peacefully. Brushing her hand across his forehead, a habit she’d acquired to check his temperature, she left the nursery and sent up a prayer of gratitude for sending Stephen to her tonight.

33

‘
Caro
, you are so stubborn! Why not?’ Donatella drained her coffee cup and began to put on her underwear.

‘Because I like my freedom, I like my independence.’

‘You mean, you like to have a place to screw other women behind my back,’ she retorted, reaching for her dress.

Roberto turned around. ‘Don’t be silly, Donatella.’

‘Then why can I not give up my apartment and move in with you here? I hate having some of my clothes here, some there. It’s most inconvenient,’ she whined.

‘No. Not yet.’

‘When then?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Still pining after that little wife of yours?’ Donatella said bitchily.

‘No!’

‘Then why not divorce her?’

‘We’ve only been apart a year. It’s too soon. I’ve told you, Donatella, I have a child to consider.’

‘But
caro,
if you did, then you could marry me.’

‘She may not give me a divorce, especially if she knew you had moved in here.’ Roberto omitted the fact that marrying Donatella had never seriously crossed his mind.

She reached for her handbag, walked over to him and put her arms around his waist as he stared morosely over the New York skyline.

‘Why are you so unhappy, Roberto? We have everything here. Everything. Your wonderful career, friends, each other. Yet it seems as if it’s still not enough for you.’

Roberto did not reply.

Donatella sighed. ‘I must go. I have a lunch with Trish St Regent. Call me from Paris, won’t you?’

‘Of course.’

‘I love you.
Ciao
.’

Roberto felt her peck the back of his neck, listened to her footsteps as she walked across the room, and then heard the front door close behind her.

He opened his lungs and let an air-splitting high C reverberate around the room. The note contained all the angst and unhappiness he was currently feeling.

Roberto turned away from the window and walked into the sitting room. Maybe it wasn’t too late. Maybe, if he picked up the receiver, dialled Rosanna’s number, then told her how he still loved her, pined for her,
needed
her as he needed the air he breathed, she would forgive him, and the desperation and misery he’d felt since he left her would finally be gone.

He picked up the handset and punched in the first few numbers. Then he replaced it as his pride yet again overwhelmed him. He collapsed into a chair and let out a long, tortured moan. His heart was pounding and he felt dizzy, nauseous, something that had been happening a lot recently. Perhaps he wasn’t well, should see a doctor . . .

Or perhaps it was simply despair.

After he’d left that night a year ago, a self-righteous anger had beset him. So, he had made a mistake, a bad mistake, but surely not an unforgivable one? He was after all Roberto Rossini, the maestro. Other wives of opera stars turned a blind eye to their husbands’ antics, understanding that their artistic temperament needed a physical outlet. Was it his fault women desired him and that he had weakened in the face of temptation? Rosanna would realise her mistake and call him, beg him to return. He’d waited in London for her to contact him. Finally, he’d realised she would not.

Then the pain set in, the deep ache that never left him. He’d moved to New York six months ago, convincing himself that distance would be the answer. Donatella was there – convenient, willing and surprisingly loving. Occasionally in her arms he’d forget for a few seconds. But most of the time, he closed his eyes and imagined it was Rosanna beneath him.

And his child, his Nico, who would be walking and saying his first words, without his papa there to see it.

Pick up the telephone, Roberto. Do it
, he ordered himself.

He dialled The Manor House once more, his hands shaking. In a few seconds he would hear her voice and his torment would surely be over.

The telephone rang. And rang. If she was out in the garden, it would take her a while to reach the house, especially with a toddling child. Roberto let the line ring for a further few seconds before he crashed the receiver down.

As he stood up, the telephone rang. He picked it up in a flash.

‘Roberto? Chris here. Just checking you’re ready. I’ll be outside in thirty minutes.’

He replaced the receiver and put his head in his hands.

‘I think I can hear the telephone ringing,’ said Rosanna as she helped Nico out of Stephen’s car. ‘Can you keep an eye on him while I run inside?’

Rosanna unlocked the front door and ran into the sitting room. As she neared the telephone, it stopped.

‘Were you expecting a call?’ Stephen asked as he entered the room moments later, with Nico clutching his hand.

‘Not particularly. Well, if it’s important they’ll ring again, won’t they?’

‘Yes, of course they will.’ Stephen was now preoccupied with chasing a waddling, giggling Nico around the coffee table.

Rosanna flopped into an armchair. ‘I don’t know where you find the energy. I’m exhausted!’ She smiled fondly as she watched the two of them. ‘Will you stay for tea or coffee?’

‘Normally I’d love to, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to get back. I have a pile of admin to do before the VAT man visits on Wednesday.’ As he spoke, Stephen scooped up her helplessly laughing son and handed him to her. With the child riding happily on her hip, Rosanna followed Stephen out of the front door and walked with him towards his car.

‘Thank you for a lovely day,’ she said as he climbed into the driver’s seat.

‘You really enjoyed it?’ he asked.

‘Yes, I really did.’

‘Good. Then we must do it again sometime.’

‘Yes, I think I’d like that. It does both of us good to get out. Wave goodbye to Stephen, Nico,’ Rosanna said as Stephen put the car into reverse. The little boy’s beaming smile turned into a scowl. His mouth drooped and he let out a howl of indignation as his erstwhile playmate disappeared down the drive.

‘Oh
angeletto
, don’t fret, he’ll be back soon,’ Rosanna reassured him as they walked back into the house.

‘Soon,’ the child mimicked.

‘Yes. Soon.’ Rosanna kissed her son’s head as she carried him upstairs towards the bathroom.

The telephone rang just as Rosanna had settled herself on the sofa to watch the news. She went into the study and picked up the receiver. ‘Hello?’

‘Rosanna?’

She smiled at the sound of the familiar voice. ‘Luca! How are you?’

‘I’m well, very well.’

‘Good.’

‘I tried to ring you earlier, but there was no reply.’

‘I was out with Nico and a friend. The telephone was ringing as we arrived home but I just missed it.’

‘Well, I’m glad I’ve caught you now. How is my nephew?’

‘Beautiful, lively, exhausting,’ said Rosanna. ‘It’s about time you came to visit him. He’ll be taking his First Communion if you don’t hurry.’

‘That is why I’m ringing, Rosanna. I was wondering whether you would mind if I flew over and came to stay with you for a while?’

‘Mind? I would love it, Luca! When were you thinking of coming?’

‘The last week in July.’

‘I see.’

‘Is there a problem?’

‘No, not at all. It’s just that Abi will be here too then. Will you mind?’

‘Of course I won’t. It’ll be wonderful to see her after all these years.’

‘I’ll have to tell her, but I’m sure she’ll be pleased to see you too.’

‘I hope so. Milan was a long time ago. We are all adults now, yes?’

‘Well, we all like to think so,’ Rosanna said gently.

‘Then I shall arrange my flights and let you know what date and time I’ll be arriving.’

‘Oh Luca, it will be so good to see you. I have missed you. I . . .’

‘Are you okay?’

‘Yes, I’m fine, really. I spoke to Papa and Carlotta last week and Carlotta sounded very subdued. Is she all right?’

‘I visited a few days ago, and, no,’ Luca sighed, ‘she has some problems, but I’ll tell you more when I see you. Papa is on good form, though. He’s found himself a girlfriend.’

‘Really?’ said Rosanna. ‘He didn’t mention it to me.’

‘No. I think he’s embarrassed,’ Luca laughed, ‘but it’s doing him good.’

‘He needs a companion. I know what it’s like to be alone,’ she said with feeling.

‘It must be hard for you,
piccolina
. I’m proud of you. So, I’ll call you soon to let you know when I’m coming.
Ciao
.’

‘
Ciao
, Luca.’

34

Abi arrived at The Manor House on a blazing hot July day.

‘Darling!’ She squeezed herself out of her smart little red Mazda sports car and ran to clasp Rosanna in a hug. ‘My God, you’re brown as a berry! Have you been away to the Caribbean without telling me?’

‘No, it’s the English sun,’ said Rosanna, returning the hug.

‘And Nico has his first suntan, too.’ Abi surveyed the little boy, who was collecting stones from the gravel drive. ‘Come to Auntie Abi, your very own fairy godmother.’ She swept Nico into her arms and kissed him, and he proudly offered her one of his stones. ‘Thank you, my darling. Goodness, Rosanna, he’s a big boy for eighteen months and very handsome. He’s going to be a heartbreaker when he gets older. Now, Nico, Auntie Abi has presents for you in her car, but before I unload, what about a nice cool drink before I die of dehydration?’

Twenty minutes later, Rosanna and Abi were sitting on a picnic rug on the lawn drinking lemonade and watching Nico trying to stand on his head.

‘Oh, it’s so beautiful here,’ said Abi. ‘I love your house, Rosanna. It’s so spacious, yet so very comfortable and cosy. And Nico really is adorable. Some children of his age are revolting.’

‘He still has time,’ Rosanna said wryly.

‘Well, I’m amazed at the way you’ve slipped with such ease into your maternal role. I take my hat off to you. I could never be a full-time single mum. It would drive me mad.’

‘It seems I have little choice – about the single part, at least. Anyway, I love being a mother. You wait until you have your own, Abi, then you’ll change your tune, I’m sure.’

‘I don’t think I will, as a matter of fact. Babies are not in the plan so far, even if I could find someone to help me make one,’ sighed Abi ruefully.

‘Is Henry off the agenda?’

‘God, yes, I binned him months ago. So I’m young, free and single yet again.’

‘You must have endless men desperate to replace him, Abi,’ Rosanna chided her.

‘Well, maybe
I
can’t find anyone to fall in love
with
then. I do try, Rosanna, honestly. But anyway, I’ve decided from now on that it’s my career all the way. I’ve been given a wonderful chance with this book contract and I intend to give it my best shot.’

‘Well, you’re on the attic floor, where you can’t hear any noise from downstairs. It’s a lovely, light room and I’ve put a table in there so you can write.’

‘It sounds perfect. You’ll hardly notice I’m here, Rosanna. I reckon if I work non-stop for the next four weeks, I should finish the first draft. Can you stand me for that long?’

‘Of course I can. It will be lovely to have some company, even if only at breakfast and suppertime. I want you to treat this as your own home while you’re here.’