The Italian Girl (53 page)

‘Of course. Nothing must disturb you before you go in front of your adoring audience.’ Donatella stood up, then drew out two envelopes from her handbag. She laid the first one on the table. ‘The keys to your apartment in New York. I’ve removed my things from it.’ She fingered the second envelope before holding it out to him. ‘Oh, and this recently arrived for you there. Naturally, I read its contents.’

Roberto snatched the envelope from Donatella’s hand. ‘You shouldn’t have done that.’

She shrugged carelessly. ‘Well, no matter, I did. I think you had better open it, Roberto. Discover why it will be that your wife asks you to leave again.’ Donatella smiled sweetly at him.

‘What are you talking about? Rosanna and I are very happy. There is nothing she doesn’t know about me.’

‘Then maybe there is something
you
do not know about
yourself
.’

‘Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter. We have no secrets from each other. I tell her everything.’

‘Good, then you won’t mind if I send a copy of the letter to your wife, just in case you forget?’ Donatella walked towards the door. ‘I’m at the Astoria Hotel.
Ciao
.’

As the door shut behind her, Roberto sat down, his heart beating uncomfortably fast. He opened the envelope.

Convent Santa Maria, Pompeii

Dear Roberto,

Do you remember a long time ago, one hot night in Naples, we danced together in my papa’s café at your parents’ wedding anniversary? Then afterwards, we went for a walk along the seafront. Later, we made love. It was my first time, and a very beautiful night, one I have never forgotten.

I discovered I was pregnant six weeks later. The only person I could talk to was my brother, Luca. We decided that, for the sake of our family, I should claim the baby was my boyfriend’s. So I did what I had to do with him to make this plausible. Then, a month later, I told my boyfriend and my father I was pregnant. Papa hastily arranged our wedding and I married a man I did not love to give our child a chance and avoid bringing disgrace on my parents. I knew you would never marry me, that at the time you may not have even believed the child was yours. I swear to you now it is the truth.

Ella, your daughter, was born five weeks earlier than expected. My marriage began in a web of lies and I should have known it had little hope of lasting. I’m still married, but I have not seen my husband for over ten years and neither has your daughter.

There have been many occasions on which I have wanted to tell you about Ella, but when you married Rosanna, I knew I could not, for her sake. However, Luca tells me you are soon to be divorced and this news decided me.

I tell you this, still trusting and praying Rosanna will never learn the truth. I know how she loved you and I don’t wish to hurt her further.

As for Ella, I beg you not to turn her life upside down by confronting her with this knowledge. I ask only that you watch over her, discreetly, be there to help her if an occasion arises in the future when she needs it. This will be a simple process as I have sent her to live with Rosanna. You see, Roberto, she has a beautiful voice. I know Rosanna will know how to nurture and encourage her niece’s talent, and believe it was inherited from her.

Luca does not know I’ve written to you. He advised me against it, saying it was dangerous. But if you ask him, he will tell you I speak the truth. And if you heard Ella sing, you would know I do not lie.

Goodbye, Roberto.

Carlotta

Roberto allowed the letter to fall from his hands and flutter to the floor. He sank back onto the sofa and emitted a low groan. Was it true? Or could Carlotta be lying?

He closed his eyes and pictured Ella singing ‘
Silent Night
’ at her school carol concert. He recognised the deep mellow sound as his own, transmuted into the voice of the young girl who was apparently his daughter.

Roberto’s eyes snapped open as his mind issued a clear picture of her face. The black hair, the pale skin, the eyes.
Mamma mia!
Even the smile was his.

Standing up, Roberto began to pace the room.

No wonder Donatella was so happy. She knew that if Rosanna discovered the truth, he stood to lose not only the woman he loved, but his son
and
new-found daughter too. Given his track record, Rosanna would never believe he hadn’t known about Ella. Besides, he had slept with her sister and never told her about that. She’d hate him, and have every right to do so.

He sat down heavily and realised that he’d do anything to keep his wife – give up his career, his fame, his fortune. It wasn’t important. He needed
her
.

Roberto picked up the receiver and dialled reception. ‘Get me the Astoria Hotel.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Roberto waited, feeling sick with fear.

‘Putting you through, sir.’

‘Astoria Hotel. How may I help you?’

‘Donatella Bianchi’s room, please.’

‘Roberto, that was quick,’ Donatella purred. ‘I have only just walked in.’

‘What do you want? Whatever it is, you can have it. Money, the apartment in New York, anything.’

‘No, Roberto. There is nothing I need in the way of material possessions; remember Giovanni left me a wealthy woman. However, I’ve been thinking a trip to England this weekend might be a pleasant distraction. Maybe to the Cotswolds. It’s somewhere I’ve always wanted to visit – I’ve heard it’s very beautiful. And, of course, I can drop off the letter personally at the same time.’

‘Donatella, do you really want to destroy me? And what about Rosanna? She has done nothing to deserve this. You know this will devastate her too.’

‘Ah, so you do have feelings,’ she murmured. ‘It is a dreadful thing, is it not, to love deeply and have that love threatened?’

‘I’ve told you,
anything
, Donatella. Name it. Just don’t do this, I beg you.’

There was a long silence, then finally Donatella spoke.

‘So, at last you understand.’

‘Understand?’

‘What it is like to be powerless.’

The line went dead in Roberto’s ear.

50

Rosanna opened the front door and stumbled into the hall. Even though it was only half past five, darkness had already fallen. Without turning the lights on, she walked up the stairs and went into Nico’s nursery. She stared miserably at the pale moonlight shining on his empty cot.

Her beautiful child, disabled for the rest of his life. And it was all her fault. Because of her selfishness, she had unwittingly passed a life sentence on her young son. Unable to look any longer at the empty cot, Rosanna left the room, calling for Ella, but receiving no reply, remembered she’d gone to stay with a friend for the night. She was here in the house alone.

Desperate now to speak to someone, she went back down the stairs and into the study. Picking up the receiver, she dialled Roberto’s hotel. The receptionist informed her that Mr Rossini had left for his evening performance. Rosanna replaced the receiver, thought for a few seconds, then dialled again.

‘Hello?’

‘Abi, oh Abi, it’s Rosanna, I . . .’ Rosanna began to sob as she told her friend what had happened to Nico.

‘Oh my God, I don’t know what to say,’ said a shocked Abi. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘He’s so little, and so defenceless. What has he done to deserve this? It was me who left him and didn’t return when Ella told me he was sick. Maybe if I’d been here, I might have seen how serious it was and caught it before he got so bad. Oh Abi, Abi, how can I ever forgive myself?’

‘Rosanna, you’re going to have to calm down. Nico is alive and otherwise recovering, that’s the most important thing. He’s still your little boy and although he might need a bit more help now, he’s very bright. He’ll cope. And you don’t know quite how bad the damage is yet. His hearing may improve over time.’

‘Maybe. I just have to pray. But . . . oh Abi, I’ve had the most terrible row with Luca as well.’

‘Yes, I realised something had happened between you.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Luca turned up here at my flat in London a couple of hours ago,’ said Abi.

‘Oh.’ Rosanna bit her lip. ‘Has he said anything?’

‘You know what Luca’s like, he hasn’t said a word so far, but I knew something was up. He’s staying here tonight, but more importantly, Rosanna, have you told Roberto about Nico yet?’

‘No. He’s at the theatre but he’ll be back at the hotel soon.’

‘Well, if I were you, I’d tell him to get his ample backside on a plane,’ Abi said vehemently. ‘You need him, Rosanna, and so does Nico.’

‘You’re right, Abi, but you know the way things are,’ Rosanna sighed.

‘Yes. Unfortunately I do. Look, do you want me to drive up to be with you? You shouldn’t be alone. I can come first thing tomorrow morning.’

‘No. When I’ve spoken to Roberto, I’m sure I’ll feel better, and Ella will be back tomorrow, but thank you anyway.’

‘Okay. Now remember to eat something, Rosanna. And get an early night. You’re obviously exhausted.’

‘I am. Thank you, Abi. Goodnight.’

Rosanna replaced the receiver, walked to the kitchen and sat down numbly at the table. Luca had run to Abi because
she
had thrown him out of her house. Luca, who’d worked in Papa’s café all those years to pay for her lessons because he believed in her, then had put his own future on hold to care for her in Milan.

Roberto . . .

Luca had said he should be here with his wife and son . . . Even she had struggled to justify why he couldn’t have accompanied her home to be with his sick son when he’d not had a performance. Abi had sounded equally disgusted that he wasn’t there with her. Roberto had barred the phone to their hotel room, making it impossible for Ella to contact them, even knowing that his son was unwell the night before.

Were these the actions of a ‘good’ man? Rosanna asked herself.

A glimmer of doubt about her perfect love began to form in her mind.

As for her own behaviour, was Luca right? Was she obsessed with Roberto? Had she changed? Rosanna remembered with a shudder how easily she’d been persuaded not to return home when she knew instinctively her son was sick.

She thought back to the innocent girl she’d been before their love affair had begun. She remembered Paolo and all he had done for her. And felt physically sick at the way she had betrayed him because of Roberto.

Then there was her career: she doubted if there had been another young opera singer more dedicated or determined to reach the top. Until Roberto had appeared in her life. She’d allowed him to stop her going back to Milan, and then to make all the decisions from the moment they were married. It was Roberto who’d chosen where and what they had sung. And, if she was brutally honest, her husband had chosen the roles
he
wanted before considering her.

She’d sacrificed her career, not just for Nico, Rosanna realised, but for Roberto too. He had a great gift, but then, so did
she . . .

Rosanna’s heart began to thud as she thought of Stephen and what she’d done to him. All that love, patience and understanding he’d so unselfishly given her when she’d needed it, and what had she given in return? Nothing. No . . . worse than nothing. Rosanna forced herself to face the truth. She had used him and then tossed him away without a backward glance. And she’d not even had the decency to contact him and explain her decision to him in person.

And finally – worse than anything else – she had left her child when her instincts had been on red alert that something was wrong. Her love for Roberto had even managed to overpower
that
.

As Rosanna sat watching the clouds scudding across the moon, she finally accepted that Luca was right. Her love for Roberto
was
unhealthy, unnatural. She
was
obsessed with him; he changed her, blinded her to everything else.

Where was he now? Not with her watching over their sick son, but standing on a stage pleasing an audience.

And that was the way it would always be.

Rosanna rose and went to pour herself a glass of water to ease her dry mouth. Something was happening to her, she could feel it.

Who was she? What was she?

She hated the person she’d become.

Roberto’s face appeared in her mind, as it always did. And always would. She knew that.

The love would remain. But, as if she had been asleep for the past fifteen years of her life, she now felt as though she was awakening.

The world would turn. Her life would continue; she would be happy.

Without Roberto.

It was possible.

For the first time, Rosanna knew it was possible.

A little later, the telephone rang. Rosanna rose slowly and went to answer it.

‘
Principessa
, it is me.’

‘Hello, Roberto.’

‘Are you okay? You sound strange.’

‘No, I’m okay, but Nico is not.’

Calmly, Rosanna told him what had happened to their son.

‘Oh my God. Please tell me it isn’t true.’

‘Sadly, it is, and I should never have left him, Roberto. It was very wrong of me to let your feelings on the matter persuade me otherwise. I don’t blame you – I take responsibility.’

‘Rosanna, we will take care of Nico together. He will have the best doctors, anything he needs.’

‘When are you coming home? I need to talk to you.’

‘I wish I was by your side now. I promise I’ll be home with you within forty-eight hours. There are some . . . things that I must organise.’

It was the last time she would wait for him to return to her. ‘I must go now,’ she said. ‘I’m very tired.’

‘Rosanna, is Luca there? I want to speak to him.’

‘No. He’s gone to Abi’s flat in London.’

‘Do you have her number?’