The Italian Girl (54 page)

She repeated it from memory, so exhausted she didn’t even bother to ask why he wanted it.

‘Rosanna, are you sure you’re all right? You sound . . . distant.’

‘I’m fine, really.’

‘
Ti amo
, my darling.’

‘Goodbye, Roberto.’

Roberto looked at the number he’d scribbled on the pad and, with trembling fingers, dialled it. It was answered immediately and Roberto recognised her voice.

‘Hello, Abi. It’s Roberto Rossini.’

‘Hello, Roberto. This is a surprise. Rosanna’s not here. She’s at home.’

‘I know. It’s Luca I wish to speak to. Urgently,’ he added.

‘Okay. Hold on.’ She put down the receiver. Two minutes later, Luca picked it up.

‘Yes?’

‘Luca, I apologise sincerely for disturbing you, but I must ask you something. I’ve received a letter written by your sister, Carlotta. Is it true that I am Ella’s real papa?’

There was a pause on the line before Luca replied. ‘Carlotta wrote you a letter that told you of this?’

‘Yes, Luca. I understand it’s difficult for you to talk now, but we must meet.’

‘I don’t see why,’ Luca replied coldly.

‘Someone else has read the letter. And is threatening to tell your sister. For Rosanna’s sake,
please
, Luca. I am desperate. Maybe if you could tell this person it’s not true, she might believe you.’

‘I will not lie for you, Roberto.’

‘I understand, but I’m at this person’s mercy. There must be a way. If Rosanna finds out, she won’t believe I didn’t know of this until now. Whatever you think of me, Luca, I love her and don’t want her to be hurt again. I lied to her before, you see – I wasn’t honest about my past. If she discovers the truth about Ella, I’m scared that she’ll believe I’ve deceived her again. And that it will be the end for us.’

Luca heard the desperation in Roberto’s voice. ‘When do you want to see me?’

‘I am flying to England tomorrow. Can you meet me at Heathrow? My flight gets in to Terminal 3 at eleven o’clock.’

‘All right, but I don’t really see what I can do to help.’

‘Thank you, Luca, from the bottom of my heart. I’ll see you tomorrow.
Ciao
.’

Roberto put down the receiver and lay back on the bed. He knew he was grasping at straws. If Luca refused to cooperate, then he would have to tell Rosanna the truth himself.

The following morning, Luca stood uncertainly in the arrivals hall and suddenly heard his name being called over the tannoy. He went to make himself known at the enquiry desk as requested, and was led by a security officer through a maze of corridors to a small hospitality lounge. It was deserted, apart from Roberto, who was pacing the floor.

Luca walked towards him. Roberto’s arrogance, his easy self-confidence had disappeared. He looked like any overweight, middle-aged man with a problem.

‘Thank you, thank you for coming, Luca.’ Roberto nodded at the security officer, who left the room. ‘I thought it would be better to talk in private. Please, sit down.’

Luca sat and prepared to listen.

‘I . . .’ Roberto scratched the unkempt stubble on his chin. ‘First, I want to say I understand that you have every reason to dislike me. You’ve known for all these years that I was the father of Carlotta’s child. When I married Rosanna, it must have been hard for you both.’

‘Neither of us wanted to hurt Rosanna. We knew she loved you,’ Luca replied coldly.

‘I swear, I didn’t know about Ella until I got the letter yesterday. Donatella Bianchi, a woman who I’ve known for a considerable length of time, was at my New York apartment and opened Carlotta’s letter without my permission. Donatella has told me she intends to take a copy of the letter to Rosanna personally.’

‘Donatella Bianchi,’ murmured Luca.

‘You know her?’

Luca nodded. ‘Oh yes. I know her. But why would she want to do this terrible thing to Rosanna?’

‘To punish
me
for leaving
her
. She realises Rosanna is the only woman I’ve ever truly loved. It’s the perfect revenge. Donatella knows your sister will almost certainly leave me when she hears the news. Or that at the very least it will drive a terrible wedge between us. And we have had enough problems recently.’

‘Roberto, have you ever told Rosanna you had a liaison with Carlotta?’

‘No. I didn’t think it was important. Rosanna was a young girl when it happened and . . . yes, I was too frightened of Rosanna’s reaction. Luca, please, help me.’ Roberto fell to his knees. ‘I’m desperate. I beg you, if you can think of a way, I promise before God I will be the best, most loving husband in the world. I love Rosanna, I can’t live without her.’ Roberto bowed his head and his shoulders began to shake.

Luca looked down at the man before him. He could see Roberto was broken, humbled in desperation. He finally knew that, selfish or not, at the very least the man loved his sister with all his heart.

And, of course, he now knew of a way to stop this, to keep Donatella quiet forever. On the other hand, had there not been too many lies already? Was it not better that Rosanna knew the truth? It would cause her pain, but she would get over it in time.

Then he pictured his sister’s face, in their parents’ café, staring at Roberto for the first time.

Whatever he was, she loved him. However he behaved, she wanted him. He was Nico’s father
and
, Luca asked himself, who was he to play God? Surely all he could do was act with integrity, and give Roberto the information he needed. What happened beyond that was not up to him.

Luca looked at Roberto and took a deep breath.

‘Roberto, I know of a way we can end this.’

51

Donatella walked into the lobby of the Savoy hotel.

When Roberto had called her in Vienna, begging her to meet him in London before she went to see Rosanna, she hadn’t been able to resist. To watch him plead and squirm for mercy one more time would be most enjoyable. She had absolutely no intention of changing her mind. Nothing he could do or say would help him now.

He was waiting for her in the American Bar. She greeted him with a kiss on both cheeks.

‘How are you? You look a little pale, Roberto.’

‘Drink?’ he asked, ignoring her question.

‘Yes. Campari and soda, please.’ Donatella sat down and crossed her long legs as Roberto ordered drinks from the waiter. ‘So, Roberto, what is it you wished to see me about?’

‘I wanted to ask you if you would reconsider. I wanted you to know that if you show that letter to Rosanna, it will not only destroy me, but her also. She has done nothing to you. Why would you punish her?’

‘Do you really expect me to care? I loved you very much, Roberto, but now’ – Donatella flicked her hand – ‘it has gone. In fact, I have a new boyfriend. I’m moving back to Milan and we’re thinking of getting married.’

‘Congratulations,’ murmured Roberto as the drinks arrived.

‘Now, what shall we drink to? Freedom maybe?’ Donatella’s green eyes sparkled venomously over the rim of her raised glass.

‘You’re enjoying every moment of this, aren’t you?’ Roberto took a sip of his mineral water.

‘It was about time someone treated you the way you’ve treated everybody else. Do you realise that if it wasn’t for me you would never have got your first big break at La Scala?’

‘What are you talking about now, Donatella?’ Roberto asked wearily.

‘I gave Paolo de Vito an enormous cheque for a scholarship fund at his precious school on the condition that you were given your first leading role. You see, Roberto, others have cared about you, helped you. It’s a pity you have never cared about them.’

‘I don’t believe you.’

‘No matter,’ Donatella shrugged. ‘Ask Paolo one day.’

‘Well then, if it’s true, I thank you for your help,’ he nodded.

‘A meek Roberto,’ she commented acidly. ‘My God, you must love her very much.’

‘He does,’ said a voice from behind her.

Donatella turned round to see a slim, dark-haired young man standing behind them. He looked familiar but she couldn’t place him.

‘Luca, come and join us.’ Roberto nodded to a chair.

‘Thank you.’ He sat down.

‘Oh, of course, you’re Rosanna’s sainted brother. Have you been employed to come here and make me search my soul?’ Donatella said dismissively. ‘You’ll sink to any level, won’t you, Roberto?’

‘Signora Bianchi, I’m here to see you for a completely different reason. It’s only coincidence that Roberto told me of your knowledge of Carlotta’s letter at a time when I was about to contact you anyway.’

‘And why would you need to speak to me?’

‘It’s about this, Signora Bianchi.’ Luca pulled an envelope out of his pocket, opened it and then laid a polaroid photograph on the table.

Donatella picked it up and studied it. Both men watched the colour drain from her face.

‘What is this?’ she asked.

‘I think you know perfectly well what it is,’ said Luca calmly. ‘You once paid Don Edoardo,
il parroco
at La Chiesa Della Beata Vergine Maria, three million lire to buy it.’

‘If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go outside for some air.’ Roberto stood up, nodded at Luca, and left.

‘I . . . yes, of course. Now I remember it.’ Donatella looked distinctly flustered.

‘A friend of mine took this photograph at an apartment recently in New York.’ Luca spoke quietly, unhurriedly. ‘A Mr John St Regent, the current owner of the drawing, told my friend he paid several million dollars for it.’

‘
Mamma mia!
Well, that is an amazing coincidence. We . . . had a burglary at our palazzo just after I bought the drawing, you see. It was stolen, along with several other paintings. I had no idea it was worth that much. What is it, a Leonardo?’ Donatella laughed nervously.

‘Yes, I think that’s exactly what it is, Signora Bianchi. You say it was stolen from your home?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then that is most odd, as John St Regent told my friend that it was your husband who sold it to him.’

‘I . . . no.’ Donatella shook her head. ‘Your friend got it wrong. He made a mistake.’

‘Well, it’s a simple matter of a telephone call, Signora Bianchi. I am sure the Italian police will be able to ascertain the truth,’ shrugged Luca equably.

‘My husband is dead. The authorities can hardly question him now.’

‘No, they can’t. But they can question you. I believe you knew how valuable that drawing was when you paid Don Edoardo a pittance for it. I also know that if the police found out you had conspired with your husband to take an artwork of national importance out of Italy, you could end up in prison.’

A flicker of fear crossed Donatella’s face. ‘Luca, I swear, I didn’t know the truth. My husband appears to have deceived me too,’ she answered desperately.

‘Roberto tells me you are very good friends with the St Regents. It’s unlikely they have not told you about – in fact,
shown
you – their most precious possession.’ Luca shrugged. ‘But I’m not here to judge your innocence or guilt. As I said, I can simply tell the police what I know, and they can discover the truth, or . . .’

‘Yes?’

‘You can change your mind about telling Rosanna who Ella’s real father is. Then we can all continue our lives as normal.’

Donatella looked outraged. ‘You’re blackmailing me!’

‘I don’t believe I have committed any crime, Signora Bianchi, whereas you clearly have. I love my sister, that’s all.’

Donatella drained her glass and banged it down on the table. ‘And loving your sister means saddling her with a child that she doesn’t know her husband sired? You call that love?’ she mocked.

Luca said nothing, just watched her calmly.

Donatella sat in silence, still trying to think of a way to salvage her perfect plan to ruin Roberto’s life. But nothing came to mind. At last she sighed resentfully and looked at Luca. ‘All right, you win. I don’t wish to take the chance of being implicated, especially as I’m soon to move back to Milan. So I agree I will not tell your beloved Rosanna about her husband’s illegitimate daughter.’

‘I must also ask you for the copy you have of the letter.’

Donatella nodded sulkily and opened her handbag. She pulled out an envelope and handed it to Luca.

‘This is the only one?’

‘Yes, I swear.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Well, once again, Roberto has got away with his misdemeanours. You aren’t stupid enough to think Ella’s conception will remain a secret forever, are you? Or that this will mean Roberto will stay faithful to Rosanna? If you do, you are deluded.’

‘Signora Bianchi, I can only do what I think best for now. The rest I must put in God’s hands.’

Donatella stood up. ‘I will leave before Roberto returns. I know he’ll be looking self-satisfied and I couldn’t stand that. I know him better than anyone, even his precious wife. We were meant to be together, you know,’ she murmured wistfully.

‘I think you’re right, Signora Bianchi. The two of you deserve each other. Goodbye.’

Luca watched Donatella stalk across the bar and disappear, but the sense of relief that she’d agreed to the bargain did not arrive. Instead, a great wave of sadness closed around his heart.

Roberto appeared round the corner, his eyes hopeful. Luca nodded at him. ‘It’s okay, she’s gone,’ he said quietly.

‘She agreed?’

‘Yes. Here.’ Luca handed him the envelope.

‘Thank God.’ Roberto wiped his sweating brow. ‘Luca, can I buy you a drink? Anything,
anything
I can do to thank you.’

‘No.’ Luca shook his head and stood up. ‘I must leave. Just look after my sister and your son. Goodbye.’

Luca arrived at Abi’s flat forty-five minutes later. Abi appeared to let him in, fresh from the shower in her robe.

‘Hello, darling,’ she smiled at him.

Luca stood, silent and unmoving in the doorway. His face was white and his eyes were haunted.

‘What on earth’s the matter?’ she asked him. ‘Come and sit down, Luca.’ She walked towards him and touched his hand. It was ice cold. ‘Luca, for goodness’ sake, tell me, where have you been? What’s going on?’

His arms hung limply at his sides as he stood there. Abi stepped forward and put her own arms around him, then reached up and stroked his hair. ‘Please, Luca, whatever it is, it can’t be as bad as you think.’