The Italian Girl (35 page)

I shall never forget the moment when Roberto took me in his arms in the hall, kissed me and told me that he was cancelling all his commitments for the next six months so that the three of us could be together. He told me nothing else mattered but his wife and his child, that he could live without singing but not without us.

So, a month later we moved in. Nico, you should have seen your father then. How he worshipped you! Many was the night you would wake up crying and Roberto would nurse you back to sleep by singing to you. He was the perfect papa. He bathed you, fed you, read you stories and even changed your nappies occasionally! It was the most wonderful sight, to see him hold you as you slept happily in his arms. I have never seen him so content before or since.

Those were halcyon days. Just the three of us, in our beautiful home. There was no one to disturb us and we lived a simple, comfortable existence. For some it would have been dull but for me it was heaven. I had even lost my urge to sing and rarely joined Roberto when he practised in the mornings.

But of course things had to change, as they always do . . .

30

Gloucestershire, April 1981

Roberto put the phone down and looked out of the open study window. The sun was shining brightly and the day was warm. He watched Rosanna as she played with Nico on the daisy-studded lawn. He heard the baby laugh as Rosanna lifted him high into the air and back down onto her lap. Then she noticed Roberto looking at her and waved. He smiled and blew her a kiss.

Roberto rubbed his forehead. The telephone call had been from Chris Hughes, who’d taken him through his schedule for the next two months. Roberto was to finally resume his engagements in two weeks’ time. To ease him in gently, there was first a concert at the Royal Albert Hall, then Covent Garden for a four-week run. After that he was back on the hamster wheel of concerts, recordings and performances on stages all over the world.

Until six months ago, Roberto had never even considered the possibility of there being a different way of life that he might enjoy. But the time since Nico’s birth had proved a revelation. The tranquillity of The Manor House was enticing. Previously, he’d always pitied the man who wound his life round his wife and child, the ordinary man in the street who worked only as a means to an end, to provide a roof and food for his family. But at this moment he almost envied others their steady, unchanging work pattern, as the years before him currently seemed filled with intolerable pressures and separations from his wife and son.

At least while he was singing at Covent Garden it was possible for him to have the best of both worlds. He’d decided he would commute, staying at the house in Kensington only when absolutely necessary. And even then, it would be possible for Rosanna and Nico to be there with him.

After that . . . Roberto swept a hand through his hair. He would have to talk to Rosanna, see how she felt. One thing Roberto was sure of: it was dangerous for him to be alone. He was not going to give his weakness when it came to women a chance to rule him again.

Later that evening, after Nico had been tucked up in his cot, the two of them sat down to supper in the large, comfortable kitchen.

‘I can’t be sure, but I think Nico said “Papa” today,’ smiled Rosanna.

‘Did he? But he is only six months old!’

‘It sounded like it. Remind me tomorrow to buy some more vests. He’s growing out of the ones he’s got,’ she said as she forked a piece of tender lamb into her mouth.

‘Rosanna’ – Roberto took a deep breath – ‘Chris Hughes called me today.’

She frowned. ‘Did he? What did he want?’

‘To go over my schedule for the next year.’

‘Oh.’

‘I know you don’t like to think about it. Neither do I, but we must discuss the future.’

‘Roberto, couldn’t we just stay like this? We’ve been so happy. We have enough money, don’t we?’

‘Not to live for the next twenty or thirty years as we do now. Think of Nico. Surely we want him to have the privileges we never had as children – to attend the best schools? To travel? The bottom line is, I have to go back to work sooner or later.’

‘I suppose so.’

Roberto watched his wife as she chewed a piece of lamb far more times than was necessary. ‘What about you?’ he asked tentatively.

‘What about me?’

‘Have you retired permanently from your career?’

‘Maybe, maybe not.’

‘Rosanna,’ he chided, ‘you must have thought about whether or not you wish to continue singing.’

‘No, I haven’t. For once, I haven’t worried about anything, except whether Nico’s nappy rash is clearing up or if he’ll sleep through the night. It’s been so perfect here, I haven’t missed singing at all.’

‘
Principessa
, you know that if you stay here with Nico, we’ll be forced into long separations.’

‘I know,’ Rosanna said. ‘So what you’re really saying is that I might as well resume my career because I shall be following you around the world anyway.’

‘My darling, neither of us wishes us to be apart from the other. What I was thinking is that we compromise. Covent Garden is now the house in which I feel most comfortable. So I could ask Chris to make sure that a lot of my work is based in England. Maybe six months of the year we can live here.’

‘And the other six months we will spend in hotels in all corners of the globe.’ Rosanna looked at Roberto. ‘Do you really think that can be good for Nico?’

‘Other children do it. He’s only a baby,
cara
. He won’t know where he is. And if his mamma is with him, he won’t care. We can even rent apartments instead of hotel suites when I have a long run somewhere.’ Roberto was pleading now.

‘But if I went back to singing too, then not only will Nico be in strange places, but he would have a stranger looking after him.’

‘We can find a very good nanny, I’m sure. Maybe even a private tutor as well when he’s a little older. And after that, there are scores of excellent boarding schools he could go to. Please, Rosanna, we’re not good when we are apart, you know that.’

She picked up a piece of broccoli and chewed the end of it thoughtfully. Finally she said: ‘Roberto, I will try and explain to you how I feel. When I discovered I was pregnant, I was very confused, unhappy almost. My career was going well, I had you – I thought life was perfect. I wanted nothing to spoil it. And then along came Nico and, with him, a new way of life and a new priority.’

‘Then you’re saying you love Nico more than you love me?’ he countered.

‘Don’t be childish, Roberto. You know the love I feel for you is stronger than ever. But I have a different kind of love for Nico – a mother’s love. And a child needs routine. I don’t think it’s right for us to drag him around the world.’

Roberto sighed. ‘Well, we have two months before I have to go abroad.
Cara
, I understand how you feel about Nico, but surely your career is important too? What will happen when Nico grows up? When he goes away to school? You will have sacrificed everything for him and will have nothing left for yourself.’

‘Roberto, please can we talk about something else?’ she begged. ‘Tonight I can’t cope with this conversation.’

Roberto saw the anguish on his wife’s lovely face and nodded. ‘I’m sorry. I hate talking of it too. But please,
cara
, think of what I have said. We must make some decisions soon.’

That night, Rosanna couldn’t sleep. She tossed and turned and eventually she climbed out of bed, put on her robe and went down the corridor to Nico’s nursery. In the dim glow of the night light she saw he was sleeping peacefully.

Rosanna sank into the nursing chair, pulled back the curtain and stared out of the window into the blackness. Why was life so complicated? All she wanted, all she loved, was under this roof. But very soon the components that made her so happy were going to be dispersed.

The choice was almost impossible to make. She knew it came down to either her son or her husband. If she bowed out of her career and stayed here, which was what she was convinced would be best for Nico, then she would rarely see Roberto. However, if she decided to continue singing and travelled with Roberto, it would mean Nico would be deprived of his mother’s full attention.

She knew she was lucky that she had the choice to stay at home with Nico if she wanted. Many women did not. But then . . . Rosanna remembered that dreadful month Roberto had been away in New York and how miserable she’d been.

It was hopeless.

Slowly, Rosanna made her way back down the corridor to her bedroom. Roberto’s arms encircled her as she slid under the duvet.

‘Are you okay?’

‘Yes. I can’t sleep, that’s all.’

‘Try not to worry. We’ll work it out.’ He kissed her gently on the cheek.

Rosanna nodded in the darkness. ‘Whichever way, it seems I will lose,’ she murmured.

31

Four weeks later, Rosanna had still made no decisions about her future. Roberto, heavily involved in preparations for
Tosca
at Covent Garden, was as sympathetic and supportive as he could be.

‘I think you should come to the first night,’ Roberto remarked as they sat having breakfast, Nico gurgling happily in his baby bouncer at their feet. ‘If you come and see Francesca Romanos sing Tosca in your place, it might help you make up your mind,’ he teased.

‘You hope I’ll be so jealous that I will return immediately.’

‘
Principessa
, I miss you,’ Roberto entreated. ‘Francesca is technically very good, but she has none of the empathy that you and I share. You cannot blame me for trying to persuade you.’ He glanced at his watch and sighed. ‘Sadly, I must be leaving for rehearsals.’ Roberto stood up, then reached down and picked Nico out of the bouncer. ‘You be a good boy for your mamma and I shall see you later.’ He kissed his son, then relinquished him into his mother’s arms as they walked outside.

‘What time will you be home?’ asked Rosanna as Roberto slid inside his Jaguar and wound down the window.

‘Early enough to bath Nico,’ he said, smiling as he started the engine. ‘Please,
cara
, think about the opening night. It would be good for you to have a little time away.’

‘What about Nico?’

‘Rosanna, I’m sure there are plenty of young girls in the village who would babysit. Go and ask, or put an advertisement in the post office.
Ciao
.’

Rosanna watched the car roar off up the drive. She carried Nico inside, put him back in his bouncer and cleared up the breakfast things.

A little while later, she tucked Nico up in his pram and set off in the direction of the post office.

When Roberto arrived home that evening, Rosanna handed him a glass of wine.

‘I’ve found a very nice girl to babysit Nico. The lady in the post office has four children of her own and said her daughter would be happy to look after him. So, I met her and I’m going to come to the first night.’

‘Wonderful! I know I’ll sing especially well if you are watching.’ Roberto stretched out his hand towards her. ‘Thank you,
cara
.’

It felt strange to wear high-heeled shoes after months of flat ones, and even more peculiar to wear make-up, Rosanna thought as she surveyed her reflection in the mirror. The evening dress was one she had bought just before she became pregnant and she had been unable to wear it as her stomach had grown larger. Now it fitted her perfectly and she felt proud that her figure had returned so soon.

She left the bedroom and went into Nico’s nursery. He was lying on the floor chuckling as Eileen, the babysitter, knelt beside him and tickled him.

‘Are you sure you’ll be all right?’ Rosanna asked anxiously, for the umpteenth time.

‘Of course, we’ll be fine, won’t we, Nico? You go and have a lovely evening, Mrs Rossini.’

‘I won’t be later than midnight. His bottles are in the fridge and there’s a clean romper suit in his drawer. If there’s a problem—’

‘Ring the number on the pad by the telephone. I know,’ said Eileen patiently.

Rosanna kissed Nico and went downstairs as the car Roberto had organised to take her to London swept up the drive.

‘I’m off,’ Rosanna called up the stairs.

‘Bye, have fun,’ came the reply.

Two hours later, the car pulled up outside the Royal Opera House. Rosanna stepped out and made her way inside and up the grand staircase to the Crush Room bar, where she had arranged to meet Chris Hughes.

‘You look lovely, Rosanna.’ Chris kissed her on both cheeks and ushered her towards a table. ‘Here, have a glass of champagne to toast Roberto’s success and your return to the scene of some of your greatest triumphs.’

‘Thank you.’ Rosanna took the glass. ‘It seems ages since I’ve been to London.’

‘Do you miss it?’

‘No, never,’ she answered honestly.

‘I’m sure it’s much healthier for Nico to live in the country. He’s a good kid, isn’t he? You’ve been real lucky with him so far, Rosanna.’

‘I know. They say an easy birth makes an easy baby and the hospital staff were so good. And Stephen too, of course,’ she added.

‘Stephen?’

‘My stand-in husband. He took me to the hospital.’

‘Oh, sure, I think I spoke to him.’

‘Did you? When?’ Rosanna shot him a surprised look.

Realising what he’d said, Chris chose his words carefully. ‘When he called the apartment to say you’d gone into labour early. I heard the telephone ring first and went to answer it.’

‘Oh, I see.’

He swiftly changed the subject. ‘Anyway, are you looking forward to tonight?’

‘I think so, but it’ll be hard to watch someone else singing with Roberto.’

‘That’s what I’m hoping,’ Chris grinned. ‘You know, there’s no reason why you couldn’t come back gradually. Say, the odd concert at first, then a few days in Paris, for example. The offers are still coming in, Rosanna, but they won’t for much longer.’

‘I know, I know,’ she sighed. ‘But Nico’s still so small. I need a little more time, Chris, please.’