The Italian Girl (48 page)

Another six hours and he’d be leaving for New York, back to Donatella and a life that had everything, yet meant nothing. Roberto opened his eyes; every time he shut them, he saw her sitting in the kitchen, her lovely face still wet with the tears he had forced her to shed.

Two hours later, Roberto closed the front door behind him and stepped into the back of the car. As the driver set off, he looked behind him as the house disappeared in the fog; a dream that had become a living nightmare.

Rosanna arrived home three and a half hours after she’d left London. The fog had been dreadful and the train had been delayed. She stepped into the hall feeling emotionally and mentally drained.

‘
Ciao
, Rosanna. Are you okay? You look very pale.’ Ella appeared from the sitting room.

‘It was a bad journey back. Is Nico okay?’

‘He’s fine. I’ve just put him to bed. Can I get you something to eat?’

‘No thank you, Ella. I think I’ll go upstairs and take a bath.’

‘Okay. Where are your things?’ asked Ella.

‘What things?’

‘The things you went to London to collect.’

‘Oh, I . . .’ Rosanna shook her head, realising that she’d forgotten all about them. ‘I decided it was best if I left them there after all. Too many memories.’

Ella nodded as Rosanna slipped off her shoes and began to walk up the stairs. ‘Stephen called from New York.’

‘Did you tell him where I was?’

‘Yes.’ Ella looked confused. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t realise I wasn’t meant to.’

‘No, it’s fine, Ella.’

‘He sent his love and said he would call again tomorrow.’

Rosanna nodded wearily. ‘Thank you. Goodnight.’

It was past midnight and, although Rosanna had tried, sleep would not come. Eventually, she got up and rifled through the bathroom cabinet for the sleeping tablets that the doctor had prescribed when Roberto had first left her. She’d never dared to take one in case Nico was ill in the night and she didn’t hear him. Knowing pills were not the answer, she replaced the bottle in the cabinet, and padded downstairs to the kitchen to make herself a hot drink. Switching on the kettle, Rosanna gazed out of the window. The fog was so thick she couldn’t see the tree that stood a few feet from the house. She took her mug into the sitting room and switched on a lamp.

Then she heard a knocking sound.

Rosanna froze in fear. This was the moment she had always dreaded. Two women and a baby alone and defenceless against intruders.

The knocking came again from the front door.

But surely burglars wouldn’t knock?
she rationalised as she crept into the hall to try and see who it was.

‘Rosanna. It’s me. Let me in,’ called a voice through the letterbox.

Her hands fumbling with the bolts and the chain, her heart racing, she opened the door.

‘You said I was to let you know if I wished to see my son. Well, I do, so here I am. I love you, my
principessa
.’

Roberto gazed at her and held open his arms, his tired eyes filled with uncertainty.

She hesitated for a few seconds, but, unable to fight any longer, Rosanna walked tentatively back into them.

The Metropolitan Opera House, New York

So, Nico, that was how your father reappeared in our lives. When he’d arrived at Heathrow he was told his plane to New York had been cancelled due to the fog. He said later that he knew then it was fate.

Our reunion was passionate and emotional. We were two people in love who had been denied each other for over eighteen months. There were no more recriminations that night. We simply drowned in the relief of finally being reunited.

The following morning I studied my face in the mirror and knew I would not be asking Roberto to leave. I saw the sparkle had returned to my eyes. I looked genuinely happy for the first time in a year. Whatever had gone before, Roberto was my husband, and your father. We belonged together and that was all that mattered.

Nico, when I tell you what happened after this, I ask you please to try and understand how I felt about your father. The love I had for him overtook everything else. Having him back was so joyful that I was blind to the pain it would cause everyone else around me. I behaved selfishly, hurt people by actions that, under any other circumstances, I would never have contemplated.

On reflection, I’ve realised that we can love someone with all our hearts, but that does not mean that person is good for us. Roberto did not bring out the best in me. When I was with him, I was never in control. His very presence was like a drug. I now see clearly that it changed me for the worse.

I had Roberto back, but in having him, I lost myself.

It must be hard for you to read what I’m telling you. I’ve wondered many times if it’s right to share these things with you, or whether I’m simply trying to assuage my own guilt. But my heart tells me you have the strength to understand. All I can say is that I always tried to do my best for you, protect you and bring you up in an atmosphere of love and security. And yet, when you really needed me, I wasn’t there. And I will never forgive myself for that. Never.

44

Gloucestershire, December 1982

Rosanna awoke the following morning and turned over, hardly daring to look in case it had simply been a dream.

He was there, really there, beside her. The nightmare was ended. Life could begin again.

She lay watching him for a few moments longer, relishing the thought of their lovemaking, which had continued until just before the dawn broke. She didn’t feel in the least bit weary. Every cell inside her tingled with a new energy.

Desperate to feel his arms around her again, to confirm he
was
there, that he did love her, she rolled closer and gently put a hand on his arm. There was no response. He didn’t even stir.
Poor Roberto
, she thought,
he must be exhausted
.

Rosanna crept quietly out of bed and put on her robe. Unusually, there were no noises from Nico’s nursery. She opened her bedroom door and padded along the corridor to his room. The cot was empty and she realised Ella must have already taken him downstairs for breakfast.

Ella . . . she must go and try to explain Roberto’s presence.

Nico was sitting happily in his high chair being fed toast and honey.

‘Good morning, Ella.’ She greeted her niece with a smile. ‘What time did he wake up? I’m so sorry I didn’t hear him. Hello, darling.’ She gave Nico a kiss and a hug and he painted his sticky fingers across her face.

‘About half an hour ago. I knew you were tired, so I got him up.’

‘Thank you, you’re an angel.’ Rosanna sat down at the table.

‘Would you like some coffee? I’ve just made some.’ Ella stood up and went to the machine that stood on the countertop.

‘I’d love some. Ella, there is something I must tell you.’

‘Yes?’

‘Come and sit down and I’ll try to explain.’

Ella brought two cups of coffee over to the table and sat back down, looking expectantly at Rosanna.

‘You know my husband, Roberto, and I were going to be divorced?’

‘Yes. That’s why you went to your old house in London yesterday, to collect your things.’

‘Yes. Well, when I was there, completely by coincidence I saw him. He arrived just as I was about to leave. We talked, and late last night he came here to see me.’

‘Oh. Where is he?’

‘He’s upstairs asleep.’

Ella nodded silently. Then she said, ‘So, now you will not divorce him?’

‘No, well, that is . . . I shouldn’t think so. He’s going to stay here for the next few days. Obviously, we have many things to discuss. And he wants to see his son.’

‘Of course. What about Stephen?’

Rosanna shook her head guiltily. ‘Ella, I really don’t know. Roberto is my husband and Nico’s father. If there’s a chance we can become a family again, surely it’s worth trying, don’t you think?’

Ella nodded again, her face expressionless. ‘Yes, I understand, but I like Stephen. He’ll be hurt, no?’

‘Yes, but . . .’ Rosanna shook her head. ‘To be truthful, I can’t think about that now. I’ll take some coffee up to Roberto. And tomorrow, as a thank you present for caring for Nico yesterday, I think we should go into Cheltenham and buy you a dress for your concert,’ she offered as a weak, conciliatory gesture.

‘Thank you, but I must wear my school uniform like the others.’ Ella’s tone was formal and distant.

‘Well, for Christmas then.’

‘That would be nice,’ Ella agreed stiffly.

Rosanna lifted Nico out of his chair. ‘Now, let us go upstairs and see your papa.’

Twenty minutes later, Rosanna came out of the bathroom and walked along the corridor to the bedroom. She stopped in the doorway and watched father and son curled up in bed together reading Nico’s favourite Winnie the Pooh storybook. The picture was one she had dreamt of on so many occasions that it brought a lump to her throat.

‘You must come down soon and meet my niece, Ella,’ she said as she walked into the room.

‘Of course.’ Roberto looked at her over Nico’s head. ‘He’s so beautiful, Rosanna, and so bright. I’d forgotten how wonderful it is to spend time with him.’

‘Don’t forget again, will you?’ she whispered.

Roberto shook his head. ‘Never.’

‘Papa?’

Roberto winked at her. ‘See? He didn’t forget me.’ He bent his head forward. ‘Yes, Nico?’

Nico pointed to the book in Roberto’s hand. ‘Read again, thank you, please.’

Ella turned as Roberto came into the kitchen an hour later. Rosanna followed behind him, carrying Nico.

‘So, you are Ella,’ Roberto said.

‘Yes. I’m pleased to meet you,’ she replied warily.

‘Your aunt is treating you well, I hope?’ he asked.

‘
Sī
¸ I mean, yes, thank you, signor.’

‘Please, call me Roberto. After all, I’m your uncle.’ Roberto turned to Rosanna. ‘Today, I’ve decided we will all of us go out to lunch at that wonderful restaurant we used to go to in Chipping Campden.’

‘But, Roberto, you have to book weeks in advance,’ objected Rosanna.

Roberto turned to her patiently. ‘
Cara
, you seem to have forgotten, there is always room for Roberto Rossini and his wife and family. I will call the
maître d’
now.’ Roberto walked across to use the phone. He made a reservation, then came to sit down at the kitchen table. Rosanna bustled around the kitchen, making fresh coffee and toast.

‘Whose are those?’ Roberto pointed to a large pair of wellington boots standing by the kitchen door.

Rosanna blushed. ‘They are my friend Stephen’s.’

Roberto stood up and marched across the kitchen, picked up the boots, then opened the bin and dropped them unceremoniously inside. ‘Now, lunch is at one o’clock. Will you bring the coffee and toast through to the study, Rosanna? I must call Chris and tell him where I am.’

‘Of course, Roberto.’

As Ella watched this exchange, she knew things would be very different at The Manor House from now on.

Over lunch, Roberto was on top form, entertaining the three of them – and the rest of the restaurant – with operatic anecdotes. Ella sat quietly, watching the happiness on Rosanna’s face with trepidation.

Later that night, Roberto and Rosanna lay on the rug in front of the fire.

‘She’s a strange one, your Ella,’ commented Roberto.

‘No, she’s very sweet and kind, but a little shy, especially of you,’ said Rosanna, running to Ella’s defence.

‘Am I that frightening?’ he grinned.

‘You can be a little . . . overpowering, yes.’

‘Then I’m sorry.’

‘You must treat her gently. Although she has come to terms with Carlotta being so ill, she still waits every day to hear the worst, as I do. Please don’t forget that.’

‘Of course. It must be hard for both of you.’

‘It is.’ Rosanna gazed into the fire. ‘Roberto . . .’ – she had to ask him – ‘will you be staying?’

He reached for her hand and squeezed it. ‘Of course,
principessa
. I belong with my wife and my child, unless you wish to continue with the divorce?’

‘No, of course not.’

‘Good. Then I will let my lawyer know.’

‘We’ll have many things to talk about, organise. I mean—’

Roberto put a finger to her lips. ‘Hush, Rosanna, don’t spoil this moment with thoughts of the future. You always did worry too much. I have no engagements until after the New Year. Why don’t we simply enjoy Christmas together and then talk?’

‘Will you tell Donatella?’

‘Will you tell your “friend”?’ Roberto countered.

‘I will have to. He’s expecting to spend Christmas here with us.’

‘Then he’ll be disappointed, but it can’t be helped,’ he replied lightly, but the muscles in his jaw betrayed his tension. ‘I am your husband, the only man who truly loves you and understands you.’ As his lips sought hers and a hand caressed her breast, Rosanna knew there would be no further talking tonight.

The following Tuesday afternoon, Roberto, Rosanna and Nico drove to Ella’s school to watch the carol concert. Every head turned towards Roberto as he entered. He smiled graciously as the three of them took their seats towards the back of the hall.

‘Mrs Rossini.’ A flustered headmistress approached them. ‘I had no idea you were bringing your husband. Please, there are seats available in the front row.’

‘Thank you for the offer, but we can see very well from where we are. I don’t wish to put any of the artistes off,’ Roberto whispered.

‘Well, I do hope you’ll both be staying for a cup of coffee afterwards?’

‘Of course,’ Rosanna nodded, and the headmistress hurried off to see if the local paper could send a photographer immediately to take a photo of the
coup
that was taking place at her school.

The concert began. Roberto looked at Nico, who had fallen asleep on Rosanna’s lap, and wished he could do the same.