The Italian Girl (7 page)

Rosanna nodded. ‘Yes, and also because . . . because . . .’

‘Because what?’

‘Luigi, it’s pointless me singing for your friend at the soirée. I can’t possibly go to Milan to study now.’ Rosanna let out a sob.

‘And why is that?’

‘Mamma’s gone and Papa will need me to fill her place. Now I’ve left school, he’ll want me to work in the café and take care of him. I can’t leave him alone, I can’t. I’m his daughter.’

‘I see.’ Luigi nodded. ‘Well then, when you sing here on Tuesday night, you have nothing to lose, do you?’

‘I suppose not.’ Rosanna found her handkerchief and blew her nose.

‘Is your papa coming to hear you?’ asked Luigi.

‘No, I don’t think he will. He hardly comes downstairs to the café anymore.’

Luigi’s wise eyes surveyed Rosanna. ‘You know, there are some things in life that are beyond our control. Sometimes, we must leave it to destiny. But all I can say is, if you sing as you usually do with me, you may be surprised at the result.’ Luigi planted a fond kiss on top of Rosanna’s head. ‘So, let the fates decide. Now, we go again.’

The following Tuesday, Rosanna took the bus up to Luigi’s villa. Ironically, given the heaviness of her heart, it was a perfect balmy evening, the setting sun casting a rosy glow over Naples as she stared listlessly out of the bus window. Carlotta had agreed to run the café for the evening and Maria and Massimo were going to lend a hand. As Rosanna walked up to the Villa Torini, she thought sadly how she was wearing the same black dress she’d worn to her mother’s funeral. She doubted she’d see her father in the audience. When Luca had told Papa he was taking him to hear Rosanna sing, he’d ignored his son, not seeming to hear what he was saying.

‘Come in, Rosanna.’ Luigi greeted her at the front door. He seemed different and very distinguished in his dinner jacket and bow tie. ‘You look beautiful,’ he said approvingly as he led her into the music room. The French windows were thrown open, held in place by two large floral decorations, and on the terrace beyond stood several rows of seats.

‘See.’ Luigi guided Rosanna into the centre of the room. ‘This is where you will stand to sing. Now, come and meet your fellow performers.’

Six other singers were chatting nervously in the drawing room. They stopped talking as Luigi and Rosanna entered.

‘This is Rosanna Menici. She will be singing last. Rosanna, help yourself to refreshments.’ Luigi pointed to a table laden with large jugs of lemonade and platters of antipasti. ‘I must now go and greet my guests.’

Rosanna sat down in a leather chair in the corner. The other performers resumed chatting to each other, but she was too nervous to join in.

She heard the doorbell ring again and again and the soft murmur of voices as the guests passed the drawing room on their way to the terrace.

Luigi put his head round the door.

‘Five minutes, ladies and gentlemen,’ he announced. ‘Signora Rinaldi will come to collect you. Once you have each finished your performance, you may sit in the audience. Maybe you will learn from each other. Good luck.’

Several minutes later, Signora Rinaldi appeared to usher the first performer out of the room. Soon, the noise from the terrace ceased and Rosanna heard the grand piano begin to play. One after another, her fellow performers disappeared until, finally, Rosanna was alone in the room.

A few minutes later, Signora Rinaldi appeared at the door. ‘Come, Rosanna, it is time for you.’

Rosanna nodded and stood up, her palms clammy, her heart thumping. She followed the housekeeper along the corridor until she stood outside the door of the music room, hearing the last performer still singing.

‘Signor Vincenzi told me to tell you that your papa and your brother are in the audience.’ She smiled fondly at Rosanna. ‘You will be wonderful, I promise.’

A wave of clapping signalled the end of the previous performance. Signora Rinaldi opened the door to the music room and gently guided Rosanna inside.

‘And now to our last performer. My very special pupil, Signorina Rosanna Menici. Rosanna has been coming to me for the past five years and this is her first public performance. I hope that, once you all hear her sing, you’ll appreciate that you have been at the debut of a most remarkable talent. Signora Menici will be singing “
Mi chiamano Mimi
” from
La Bohème
.’

There was polite applause as Luigi went back to his piano stool. A jumble of conflicting thoughts crowded Rosanna’s mind as she heard Luigi play the first few bars. She couldn’t do this, she had no voice, it wouldn’t come . . .

And then, the strangest thing happened. Amongst the blur of faces, she could see her mamma smiling at her, encouraging her, willing her to perform.

You
can
do it, Rosanna, you
can . . .

Rosanna took a deep breath, opened her mouth and began to sing.

Luigi was finding it increasingly difficult to read the sheet music in front of him because his eyes were filled with tears. Five years of hard work, and tonight Rosanna and her beautiful voice had come of age, just as he’d always known they would.

Paolo de Vito sat in the second row, his eyes closed. Vincenzi had been right about this girl. The voice was one of the purest sopranos he’d ever heard. It had colour, tone, strength, depth; every note of the difficult aria was clear and perfectly judged. And, besides that, the girl seemed to understand what she was singing about. He could feel the raw emotion hanging invisibly in the air, paralysing the audience. Paolo felt tingles running up and down his spine. Rosanna Menici was sensational and he wanted to be the one to give her talent to the world.

Marco Menici stared disbelievingly at the slim figure standing in front of him. Was this really his Rosanna, the shy child who’d always been so easy to ignore? He’d known she had a sweet voice, but tonight . . . why, she was singing in front of all these people as if she had been born to it! If only Antonia could have been here to see her daughter. Marco wiped the tears away from his eyes.

Luca Menici surreptitiously watched Marco’s expression and thanked God for helping him persuade his father to come. He too blinked away a tear. The die was cast. He knew nothing could stop Rosanna now.

As the last notes died away, there was silence from the audience. Rosanna stood in a trance as her mamma’s face, the face she had sung to for the past few minutes, disappeared. A storm of rapturous applause broke in her ears, then Luigi appeared at her side and together they took bow after bow. The other performers joined them as the audience rose to their feet.

Luigi raised his hands and begged for quiet. ‘Thank you for joining us here tonight. I hope our humble performance has brought you pleasure. Drinks will now be served, during which there will be a chance to mingle with our artistes.’

Another burst of applause followed his short speech, then he was surrounded by people clapping him on the back and shaking his hand. Rosanna stood alone, unsure what to do. A waitress offered her a glass of Prosecco. She took a sip and spluttered helplessly as the bubbles fizzed in the back of her throat.

‘
Piccolina
, oh Rosanna, you were . . . magnificent!’ Luca was by her side. ‘You will be such a star one day – I have always known it.’

‘Where’s Papa? did he enjoy it? Was he angry that we didn’t tell him about the singing lessons?’ asked Rosanna anxiously.

‘When Signor Vincenzi announced that you’d been coming to him for five years, his face looked like thunder. But now he’s heard you sing, well . . .’ Luca chuckled. ‘He’s boasting to everybody that you’re his daughter.’

She looked out onto the terrace and saw Marco talking to several people. She realised he was smiling for the first time since her mamma had died.

‘Rosanna, I have someone I want you to meet.’ Luigi appeared by her side, accompanied by an elegantly dressed middle-aged man. ‘This is Signor Paolo de Vito, artistic director of La Scala, Milan.’

‘Signorina Menici, it’s delightful to meet you. Luigi has told me much about you. And having heard you sing, I have to say he was not exaggerating. Your performance tonight was breathtaking. As always, Luigi has done a wonderful job. He has a nose for special talent.’

Luigi shrugged modestly. ‘I can only work with the tools I am given.’

‘I think too, my friend, you have a little genius of your own. Would you not agree, Signorina Menici?’ Paolo smiled down at her.

‘Luigi has been wonderful to me,’ Rosanna replied shyly.

‘And he tells me your papa is here?’ continued Paolo.

‘Yes,’ answered Rosanna.

‘Well, if you would excuse me, I wish to speak to him. Will you introduce us, Luigi?’

Luca and Rosanna watched nervously from the other side of the terrace as Luigi introduced Paolo de Vito to Marco. The three men sat down and Luigi signalled to a waitress to bring more Prosecco.

Rosanna turned away. ‘I cannot bear to look,’ she said. ‘What do you think they’re talking about?’

‘You know what they’ll be saying. After your performance tonight, there’s no need for false modesty.’ Luca turned his attention to a heavily bejewelled lady and her husband who had come up to congratulate Rosanna on her performance.

Eventually, Luigi stood up and beckoned to Rosanna and Luca to join them.

‘Rosanna,
bravissima
!’ Marco stood up and kissed his daughter on both cheeks. ‘Why did you not tell me you were having singing lessons all this time? If I had known, I would of course have helped. You are a bad girl, eh?’ Her papa smiled. ‘Well, what’s done is done. Signor de Vito has been telling me he thinks you will one day be a big star. He wants you to go to a music school in Milan. He’s sure they will offer you a scholarship.’

Paolo shrugged. ‘As a director of the school and La Scala, I can take what you might call an executive decision.’

‘And what do you say, Papa?’ asked Luca anxiously.

‘Well, it’s all well and good to have such a talent, but I could not let my daughter go alone to such a big city. Who knows what would become of her?’ Marco sighed.

Rosanna felt the adrenaline of the evening leave her. She’d been right. In the end, it had all been for nothing. Papa was going to say no.

‘So,’ Marco continued, ‘Signor Vincenzi suggested that someone should accompany you. And of course, I think to myself, who? Who could I trust to take care of my daughter and keep her safe? And then it came to me. Luca, my son, who has paid all these years to help you.’

‘You . . . you mean, you’ll let me go to Milan if Luca accompanies me?’ Rosanna gazed up at her papa in amazement.

Marco nodded. ‘Yes. It seems like the perfect solution.’

‘But what about you, Papa? We couldn’t leave you alone.’ Luca was staring at his father as though he had lost his mind.

‘But I won’t be alone, Luca. Carlotta and Ella are home now. And my daughter insists that she will not return to her husband. So, she can look after her old papa and help in the café. And I will find a replacement for you, Luca. You were a bad cook anyway,’ joked Marco. ‘And as these two gentlemen have said’ – he nodded in the direction of Luigi and Paolo – ‘we must try to do everything we can to give your precious gift to the world, Rosanna. So, there we are. Are you happy?’

‘Oh Papa! I . . . of course I am! Thank you, thank you!’ Rosanna hugged him tightly, still unable to believe the longed-for future was hers to grasp.

‘And what about you, Luca? Will accompanying Rosanna to Milan suit you?’ asked Luigi.

Luca’s eyes shone. ‘I can’t think of anything that would please me more.’

‘Good, good, so that is settled,’ said Paolo. ‘Forgive me, but I must leave now. I have a post-performance supper with the director of the Teatro di San Carlo in the city.’ He stood up and turned to Rosanna. ‘I’ll speak to my colleagues about you on my return to Milan. If all goes well, then in the next few days you will receive a letter formally confirming you have been granted a scholarship. The term begins in September. I look forward very much to welcoming you to the school and after that, perhaps, La Scala itself. Goodnight, Rosanna.’ He took her hand in his and kissed it.

‘I can’t ever thank you enough, Signor de Vito,’ she replied, her voice thick with emotion.

Paolo smiled at her, then walked inside the house with Luigi to the front door. ‘You handled that very well, Paolo. I’ll always be grateful to you,’ said Luigi.

‘I’ve dealt with difficult parents many times.’ Paolo grinned suddenly. ‘You know, Marco even told me that Rosanna had inherited her voice from him! And I must thank you, Luigi, for entrusting Rosanna to me. I’ll do my best to see that her talent is nurtured.’

‘I know you will, Paolo. All I ask for is a ticket to her debut at La Scala.’

‘Of course.
Ciao
, Luigi.’

Luigi shut the door and was immediately waylaid by the mother of one of his students. Eventually, he made his way back to the terrace and sought out Luca.

‘I have something for you, young man.’ Luigi pressed a thick brown envelope into Luca’s hands. ‘This is for you and Rosanna, to help you with your expenses in Milan. You’ve been an exceptional brother to Rosanna. And I think, out of your kindness, you
too
have won your freedom, yes?’ There was a look of surprise on Luca’s face as Luigi patted his shoulder and went to join his other guests.

When the Menici family arrived home in the taxi Luigi had insisted he pay for, Luca went up to his bedroom and shut the door. He opened the envelope and emptied hundreds of lire notes onto his bed. There was also a letter in the envelope, which he unfolded and read.

I kept your money from the first day Rosanna gave it to me. I wanted to teach her for free but I understand pride. I also thought it might help in the future. I’m sure you will use it wisely. Kind Regards, Luigi Vincenzi.

Luca lay back on his bed, his heart bursting with gratitude at such unexpected kindness.

7

Carlotta sat motionless in a chair in the sitting room as her father explained that Rosanna had won a scholarship to a music school in Milan and that Luca was to accompany her.