The Italian Girl (51 page)

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.

‘Hello?’

‘Can I speak to Dr Martin?’

‘I’m afraid he’s out on a call. I’m his wife. Can I help you?’

‘Yes. I’m looking after Rosanna Rossini’s little boy, Nico. He has a high temperature and a bad rash all over his body. I . . . I don’t know what to do.’

‘I see. Right, well, Dr Martin should be home in a few minutes. If you give me your address, I’ll send him straight over.’

Ella did so.

‘Now, my dear, until the doctor arrives, sponge Nico with lukewarm water. That should help keep his temperature down. And try to get him to drink a little water. If he starts to deteriorate, or becomes unconscious, call an ambulance immediately.’

‘I will. Thank you.’

Ella put the receiver down. She filled a bowl of water and climbed the stairs in trepidation, wishing with all her heart she’d never suggested that Rosanna go to Vienna to see Roberto.

The journey from Heathrow to Gloucestershire took less than an hour and a half. The roads were empty and Stephen pulled the Jaguar off the motorway and headed for The Manor House.

Luca sat in silence, staring out of the window. His mind was in turmoil. Not only had Stephen told him the upshot of his visit to New York, but then, calmly and without emotion, he had told him the reason he was no longer seeing Rosanna.

Roberto was back.

The ramifications of this news were so far-reaching that Luca couldn’t begin to put his thoughts into any kind of order.

‘Are you happy they’re reunited?’ asked Stephen. ‘Part of you must be. I mean, he is Rosanna’s husband and Nico’s father.’

Luca shook his head vigorously. ‘No, Stephen. Even though he’s Rosanna’s husband, the things that Roberto has done, I . . .’ He sighed deeply as Stephen took the road that led to The Manor House.

Stephen pulled the car to a halt on the drive. ‘You’ll understand if I don’t come in, won’t you?’

‘Of course.’ Luca could see Stephen was itching to leave. ‘Okay. Thank you, Stephen, for everything.’

‘It was nothing. I’ll be at the gallery all day if you want to talk further.’

‘
Ciao
.’ Luca opened the door, then stopped and turned back. ‘I’m so sorry, Stephen. Rosanna does not realise what she has lost.’

Stephen shrugged sadly as Luca closed the passenger door behind him.

Ella was pacing the floor in Nico’s nursery when she heard the doorbell ring. She ran down the stairs expecting to find the doctor on the doorstep. She unlocked the door, her hands trembling.

‘Luca! Oh Luca!’ She threw herself into his arms, sobbing hysterically.

‘Ella, Ella, what is it? What is the matter? Come now, calm down.’

‘Nico, it’s Nico. He’s very sick. I think he may even be dying! We must not leave him alone.’ Ella pulled Luca inside and hurried back up the stairs.

‘But where is Rosanna? And . . . Roberto?’

‘In Vienna. I thought you were the doctor. I’m doing as his wife said, but she said I should call an ambulance if he got worse and . . .’ Ella entered Nico’s room and pointed to the cot. ‘See, he has this rash and he won’t wake up properly and . . . Help me, Luca, help me!’ she gabbled hysterically.

Luca leant over the cot and immediately took in the seriousness of the child’s condition. ‘The doctor is on his way?’

‘Yes, but I’m sure he is getting worse.’

‘Then I think we must take no chances. We must call an ambulance.’

At that moment they heard the doorbell ring.

‘Thank God,’ said Ella, choking back a sob. ‘That must be the doctor.’

‘You go,’ said Luca. ‘I’ll stay with Nico.’

Ella nodded and ran from the room. Luca stroked Nico’s forehead. ‘It’s okay,
angeletto
. You’re going to be all right. I think your mamma must have gone mad to leave you, but she’ll be back soon, I promise.’

While Dr Martin examined Nico, Ella and Luca stood together by the window in the nursery.

‘You say Rosanna is in Vienna with Roberto?’ Luca confirmed.

‘Yes.’

‘Have you telephoned them?’

‘Yes, but they haven’t called back yet.’

‘She shouldn’t have left you alone with Nico, Ella. It was very wrong of her,’ Luca sighed.

‘Please don’t blame Rosanna. I begged her to go. She was so unhappy, missing Roberto so much. I thought . . . I thought it would be fine. And it would have been if . . .’ Ella wrung her hands in despair and Luca put an arm round her shoulders. ‘She telephoned last night and I told her he was not well and—’

‘Still she did not return?’

‘No, but—’

Dr Martin broke into their conversation.

‘I’m going to call an ambulance. I want to admit Nico to hospital. He has a very high temperature and we must get some fluids into him to stop him getting dehydrated.’

‘What is it? What’s wrong with him?’ Ella asked, holding her breath.

‘Nico has a nasty attack of the measles. It’s a common childhood illness, but some children can get it very badly and there can be complications if we don’t treat it quickly. Can I use the telephone?’

‘Of course.’ Ella led the doctor into Rosanna’s bedroom.

Luca stared out of the nursery window, wondering what had possessed his sister – usually such a devoted mother – to leave her son with an inexperienced fifteen-year-old girl. He shook his head ruefully, knowing the answer.