The Italian’s Miracle Family Read online

  After a moment he resumed. ‘She played her part beautifully. When it was over Tina left with her grandmother to visit Carlotta’s sister and her family. Elena wanted her to go too, but Carlotta said she wanted to stay with me, that we needed some time together. I think that was one of the happiest moments of my life. I’d seen so little of her, and I was overjoyed that she wanted to be with me.

  ‘But as soon as we were alone she said she was leaving me for another man, and there was no point in discussing it. I’d never heard her sound so much like a lawyer.

  ‘I reminded her that she was a mother, but it was like talking to a brick wall. She knew what she wanted, and nothing else counted. I said I wouldn’t let her take my daughter. I thought that would make her stop and think. But I discovered that she’d never meant to take Tina.’

  ‘Would you have taken her back?’ Alysa asked curiously. ‘Knowing that she’d been unfaithful?’

  ‘It would never have been the same between us,’ he said sombrely. ‘But, for Tina’s sake, I would have tried.’

  After that there was silence for a while. Drago got up and poured a couple more glasses of wine, handed her one and sat down again.

  ‘I began to realise that I’d never really known her,’ he said. ‘She seemed not to understand what she was doing to other people, or care. She kept saying, “We’ve had a lovely Epiphany. Tina will have that to remember”.’

  Alysa winced. ‘She really thought that would be enough?’

  ‘She seemed to. She said she’d come and see Tina sometimes, as though that settled it. Then she left. When Tina came home I told her that Mamma was away on business, because I still hoped she’d come back, and Tina need never know the truth. But then Carlotta died, and how could I tell her then?’

  ‘You couldn’t, of course. But can you keep it a secret for ever? Suppose she hears it from someone else?’

  ‘I know. Maybe one day, when she’s old enough to cope, but not yet.’

  ‘I can’t understand why she didn’t want her daughter.’

  ‘Neither can I. Carlotta kept saying we had to be realistic-Why, what’s the matter?’

  Alysa had turned and stared at him. ‘She actually used that word-realistic?’

  ‘Yes, why?’

  ‘Because James used it too,’ she said, beginning to laugh mirthlessly. ‘When he came home in January he called me to meet him at a restaurant. He kept it short, just said he’d met someone else. He said it hadn’t been working out for us, and we had to be “realistic”. Then he called for the bill, we said goodbye and I never saw him again.’

  ‘Like a guillotine descending,’ Drago said slowly.

  ‘Yes, that describes it perfectly,’ she said, much struck. ‘And when the blade had descended it stayed there, so that I couldn’t look back beyond it. I knew the past had happened, but suddenly I couldn’t see it any more. And when I finally did, it looked different.’

  ‘Oh yes,’ he murmured. ‘It’s exactly like that. And you never heard from him? Not a postcard or a phone call to see if you were all right?’

  ‘His lawyer called me to say James had left some things with me and wanted them back. I packed them up in a box and someone from the lawyer’s office collected them.’

  Drago said something violent in a language she didn’t understand.

  ‘What does that mean?’ she asked. ‘It didn’t sound like Italian.’

  ‘It’s Tuscan dialect, and I won’t offend your ears by translating.’

  ‘Sounds like some of the things I said in those days.’

  ‘You told Tina that you’d learned a little Italian by researching online. Was that-?’

  ‘Yes. When I was trying to find out about Carlotta I discovered a lot of stuff in Italian newspapers. The computer translated it, but very badly, so I got an Italian dictionary. I worked on it night after night and I suppose I went a bit mad.’ She gave a short, harsh laugh, turning to the mirror on the wall. ‘Look at me.’

  In the dim light the mirror made her eyes seem larger than ever in her delicate face. They were burning and haunted.

  ‘Those eyes belong behind bars,’ she murmured.

  ‘Stop that!’ His voice crashed into her brooding thoughts, making her jump. ‘Stop that right now!’ he commanded. ‘Don’t put yourself down. It’s the way to hell.’

  ‘It’s a bit late for that.’

  ‘All the more need to be strong.’

  ‘Why?’ she shouted. ‘Sometimes I’m tired of being strong. I’ve spent the last year working at that-hiding my feelings, never letting anyone suspect.’

  ‘And what’s inside you now?’

  ‘Nothing, but that’s fine. I can cope with “nothing”. Don’t dare to judge me. What do you think you know about me?’

  ‘I know you’re a steely accountant, but as a woman you’re settling for a narrow life because you think you’ll be safe. But you won’t. It’s just another kind of hell.’

  ‘Look, I came here to help you-’

  ‘But maybe you need my help too.’

  ‘I don’t.’

  Instead of arguing, he shrugged and said, ‘Let’s get some coffee.’

  He led her into the kitchen, a shining temple to the latest hi-tech cooking equipment, incongruous against the rest of the house. In a moment he had the coffee perking, and brought some spicy rolls out of the cupboard. He’d made the right move. Alysa felt herself growing calmer as she ate and drank.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said as he refilled her cup. ‘I don’t normally lose my temper.’

  ‘Tonight’s been hard on you,’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t really have put you through it, but I’m clutching at straws.’

  ‘We all do what we must to survive. I was never going to let this get the better of me.’

  ‘But you’ve paid a price.’

  ‘Yes, all right, I have. There’s always a price to be paid, but anything’s better than giving in.’

  ‘You’re a very strong person. I admire that. I’ve often felt it was getting the better of me.’

  ‘Did you mean what you said about crying?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes,’ he said quietly. ‘I meant it. What about you? You said you never cried.’

  ‘I can’t. And, if I could, I wouldn’t.’

  ‘How did you get to be so strong?’

  ‘Through my mother. When I was fifteen my father walked out on us, and it finished her. She never recovered. I can still hear her sobbing, night after night. Three years later she died of a heart attack. She had no strength to fight it.’

  ‘Poor soul.’

  ‘Yes, and you know why she went under? Because my father was all she had. She was an actress before she met him-a good one, people said. But she had to choose, and she chose him. She wouldn’t take jobs that took her away from him, and in the end the offers stopped coming. She became a barmaid, a shop assistant, any number of dead-end jobs. He left her with nothing. That’s where I’m different. When I lost James, I didn’t lose everything.’

  He gave her a quick look and seemed about to speak, but thought better of it and poured some more coffee.

  ‘Did your father stay in touch?’ he asked at last.

  ‘He contacted me after she died, said he thought we could repair the past. I told him to get out of my sight and never come back. And he did. I’ll never forgive him for what he did to my mother, and I’ll never let myself go under as she did.’

  He nodded slowly. ‘And you have no other family?’

  ‘My mother has a couple of sisters, but they more or less deserted her when she hit the bad times. I suppose they couldn’t cope with her depression, and perhaps I ought to be understanding, but they weren’t there when she needed them.’

  ‘Maybe it would have made no difference,’ he mused. ‘Other people can’t always help, unless it’s exactly the right person. And you may never meet that person.’

  ‘You sound as though you had a lot of experience with the wrong ones.’

  ‘One or two. It wasn�
��t their fault. They tried to sympathise over her death, not knowing that the real grief lay elsewhere.’

  ‘How did you hear that Carlotta was dead?’

  ‘From the press. Somebody recognised her body and called me. I don’t recall exactly what I said, but I think I recited the line about her being away to visit clients. If I did, I was on automatic. Then there were more calls, as the press began to sniff something out.’

  ‘How ghastly!’ she said in genuine sympathy.

  ‘I think I went off my head for a while. I was in a rage-I can be really unpleasant.’ He gave a faint, self-mocking smile. ‘Though you might not believe that.’

  ‘I’ll try,’ she said lightly. ‘Did you actually hit anyone?’

  ‘There was one moment with an editor-but he gave as good as he got. Then I told him if he slandered my wife I’d have his paper closed down.’

  ‘Could you do that?’ Alysa asked, remembering what the young journalist had told her.

  ‘Who knows? I’d have had a good try. But he believed it, and that was all I needed. Are you shocked?’

  ‘No. I’ve done that too. Not the punch-up, but making the other side think you’re stronger than you are. It’s very useful. What about the rest of the press? Did you have to get tough with them?’

  ‘No need. The word got around, and after that nobody would challenge me.’ He regarded her satirically. ‘I dare say your reputation goes ahead of you as well?’

  ‘Well, I’m in line for a partnership.’ She too became self-mocking to say, ‘So there are some advantages to renouncing my femininity.’

  ‘Look, I shouldn’t have said that. Will you please forget it?’

  ‘Of course.’ But it had struck home, and Alysa knew she wasn’t going to forget any time soon.

  ‘What about you?’ Drago asked. ‘How did you hear?’

  ‘I got a call from Anthony Hoskins, James’s lawyer. He said he’d been contacted by a man who wouldn’t say who he was, but was asking about James.’

  ‘That was me. I found a letter from Hoskins in their apartment. I didn’t get anywhere talking to him, so I simply passed his name on to the undertakers.’

  ‘They called Hoskins too, and he called me again,’ Alysa remembered. ‘He said they wanted burial instructions. James had no family.’

  ‘What did you tell them to do about the burial?’

  ‘Nothing. I was in a dreadful state, so I said I didn’t know him and put the phone down. I never heard any more. I don’t know what happened to his body.’

  ‘I can tell you that. He’s near the Church of All Angels, the same place where Carlotta is buried. There’s going to be a ceremony there tomorrow.’

  ‘I didn’t know. I only discovered about today’s gathering by accident online. There was no mention of anything else. Do you go to the cemetery often?’

  ‘I take Tina to visit her mother, and sometimes I go to see her alone.’

  ‘You visit her, after what she did to you?’

  ‘I have to. Don’t ask me why, because I couldn’t tell you. I always look at his stone when I’m there. Then I can tell him how much I hate him. I enjoy that. I only wish I could picture him. When I went to identify Carlotta I made them show me him as well, because I wanted to see his face.’

  ‘What did you think of it?’ she asked, almost inaudibly.

  ‘Nothing. It was badly damaged, so I still don’t really know what Carlotta saw when she looked at him. But you can tell me. Would a woman think he was handsome?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said with a touch of defiance. Something about his tone was making her defensive. ‘He was very handsome. Do you want to see?’

  He stared. ‘You’ve actually got his picture? You still take it everywhere?’

  ‘No, just here. After all, I came here to remember him. I wanted him to be with me. I suppose that sounds crazy?’

  He shook his head. She felt in a compartment of her bag, and offered it to him.

  To her surprise he hesitated before taking it, as though at the last minute he was unwilling to face the man his wife had loved. Then he took it quickly and studied it, his mouth twisted, so that his turbulent emotions were partly concealed.

  ‘Pretty boy,’ he said contemptuously.

  ‘I suppose he was,’ Alysa said. ‘I used to be proud to be seen with him, because all the other women envied me. They would try to get his attention and they never did because he always kept his eyes on me. That was part of his charm. He had beautiful manners-until the end, anyway. Maybe that’s why I didn’t see it coming.’

  ‘Tomorrow I’ll show you where he lies, a place where nobody is competing for him,’ Drago said with grim satisfaction. ‘But I dare say you don’t need a grave to tell him you hate him.’

  ‘I don’t hate him any more.’

  ‘You’re fortunate, then. I don’t believe you for a moment, but perhaps even the illusion is useful-until it collapses.’

  Once she would have insisted that it would never collapse, but this evening had left her shaken, and suddenly she longed to bring it to an end. If anything brought about the collapse it would be Drago di Luca, with his unnerving combination of ruthlessness and vulnerability.

  ‘It’s late,’ she said. ‘I should be going.’

  ‘I’ll drive you. We have to be at the cemetery at noon tomorrow. My car will call for you at eleven.’

  ‘No, please. I won’t go to the cemetery. Today was enough.’

  ‘Think about it tonight. I’ll call you tomorrow.’

  She made no answer and he showed her out into the hall, saying it would only take him a moment to bring the car around. She sat down to wait, so sunk in thought that at first she didn’t see the little figure coming down the stairs, and jumped when Tina spoke to her, asking anxiously, ‘Is Poppa all right?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Alysa said. ‘Why do you ask?’

  ‘He was unhappy all day.’

  ‘Well, your mother…’

  ‘I know. He’s always unhappy about her, but today he was nervous too.’ Tina lowered her voice to say, ‘I think he’s nervous of Nonna.’

  ‘Nonna?’

  ‘My grandmother. She hasn’t been very nice to him today.’

  There was an almost motherly note in the child’s voice. Alysa realised that, while Drago was protecting her, this little creature was protecting him.

  He returned at that moment.

  ‘What are you doing out of bed?’ he demanded, in a voice in which authority and tenderness were equally mixed.

  ‘I came to see how you were,’ the child explained.

  ‘I’m going to drive the signorina home, but then I’m coming right back. Now, get back to bed before your grandmother finds out, or I’ll be in deep trouble.’

  At that moment the sound of Elena’s voice upstairs made them all freeze.

  Tina reacted like lightning. Reaching up to Alysa’s ear, she whispered, ‘Look after him,’ and darted away up the stairs. Next moment they heard her saying, ‘I’m here, Nonna. I had a bad dream so I went looking for you-I thought you were downstairs.’

  ‘That’s one thing she gets from her mother,’ Drago said in a voice that shook slightly. ‘She’s never lost for words.’

  ‘She’s marvellous,’ Alysa agreed.

  ‘What did she say to you?’

  ‘She told me to look after you, but I probably shouldn’t have repeated that. Don’t tell her.’

  ‘I won’t. Did she say why she thought I needed looking after?’

  ‘She thinks Elena isn’t nice to you.’

  That deprived him of speech, she was interested to note. He simply ushered her outside and into the car. For some time he drove in silence, and she had the feeling that he was still disconcerted.

  The city was quiet as they entered, and Alysa realised that it was nearly one in the morning. In a few hours she seemed to have lived a whole lifetime, and time had lost all meaning.

  ‘Is this the way to the hotel?’ she asked after a while. ‘Surely i
t’s on the other side of the river?’

  ‘I’m taking a slight detour, to show you something that may interest you. It’s just along this road.’

  At last he stopped the car outside an apartment block with an ornately decorated exterior, that looked several-hundred years old.

  ‘This is where they lived,’ he said when they were both standing on the pavement. ‘Just up there.’ He indicated one floor up.

  It was a charming area, perfect for a love nest. Alysa studied it for a moment, then wandered down a short, narrow alley that ran along the side of the building and found herself overlooking the River Arno. A multitude of lights was on, their reflection gleaming in the water, and in the distance she could see the Ponte Vecchio, the great, beautiful bridge for which Florence was famous.

  This was what James would have seen from the apartment window, standing with his lover in his arms. Here they had held each other, kissed, teased, spoken fond words, then taken each other to bed-while she had lain tormented in England, while the life of her baby had died out of her.

  ‘That’s their window,’ Drago said. ‘I once saw them standing there together.’

  ‘You came to see them?’

  ‘Yes, but I made sure they didn’t find out. I skulked here like a lovesick schoolboy, hanging about to catch a glimpse of her, and retreating into the shadows when I saw her.’ He paused and added wryly, ‘And if you ever repeat that I’ll deny it and sue you for every penny.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I did the same. I passed James’s flat when I didn’t need to. But I didn’t see him. I suppose he’d already left.’

  ‘You’re lucky. I couldn’t stay away from this place. I pictured them walking by the river, looking at the lights in the water, saying to each other the things that lovers have always said in this spot.’

  ‘It’s perfect for it,’ she agreed, looking along the river to the Ponte Vecchio. ‘It’s the sort of place people mean when they say that Italy is a romantic country.’

  The ironic way she said ‘romantic’ made him look at her in appreciation.

  ‘It can be romantic,’ he said. ‘It can also be prosaic, businesslike and full of the most depressing common-sense. Romance doesn’t lie in the country or the setting, but in the moment your eyes meet, and you know you’re living in a world where there’s only the two of you and nothing else exists.’