The Italian Girl (41 page)

‘This Stephen sounds almost too perfect,’ smiled Luca.

‘I agree. There must be something wrong with him,’ giggled Abi.

‘Maybe it’s simply that Rosanna will never fully appreciate his qualities,’ Luca shrugged.

‘Probably. Anyway, shall I make some coffee?’

‘Yes, that would be nice.’

Abi stood and began to clear the table. As she reached for Luca’s plate, he touched her gently on her arm.

‘Thank you again for listening, Abi. You are a very good friend with a very good heart.’

Abi carried the plates into the kitchen. She filled the jug with water, poured it into the coffee machine and switched it on, mulling over what he’d told her and how it had altered her situation. If he really was uncertain about the priesthood, then surely . . .

‘Oh, what the hell,’ she said under her breath as she watched the coffee drip into the jug. ‘It might be the end of you, Abi, but you only live once.’

As the last guest left the gallery, Stephen locked the door behind him and breathed a sigh of relief.

Rosanna was smiling at him. ‘That was a great success, wasn’t it?’

‘Yes. Twelve paintings reserved out of fifteen. I’m going to have to get the artists to paint some more – fast.’

‘You were brilliant.’ She sat down in a chair. ‘You were so nice to everyone, even when they argued about the price.’

‘Customer relations is a big part of my job. More wine?’ Stephen took a bottle standing on his desk and filled Rosanna’s glass.

‘Thank you. To you, Stephen, and the gallery.’

‘Yes, to me. And to you for coming and being so supportive.’

‘It was the least I could do. I enjoyed it.’

‘Did you?’

‘Yes. It was nice to go out, although I did find it quite stressful at first,’ she admitted. ‘I’m not used to making small talk these days.’

‘Rosanna, everyone thought you were delightful. You know, someone even asked me if you were my wife.’ Stephen glanced at her sideways.

‘Did they? I . . .’ She abruptly put down her glass and stood up. ‘I ought to be getting back now. Abi and Luca will be wondering where I am.’

‘Of course. I’ll take you home.’

‘No, I can call a taxi.’

‘Don’t be silly, Rosanna. Come on.’

They left the gallery and walked along the narrow streets towards his car.

Rosanna was silent on the journey home, feeling guilty for her knee-jerk reaction to his innocent comment. As Stephen pulled the car into the drive, she turned towards him.

‘Would you like to come to lunch on Sunday and meet my brother?’

‘I’d love to,’ he replied.

‘Good. About one then?’

‘Yes.’

‘Thank you for a lovely evening. Goodnight, Stephen.’ Rosanna pecked him on the cheek and got out of the car.

36

‘Stephen,’ said Rosanna, ‘this is my brother, Luca.’

‘How do you do?’ Stephen smiled warmly as the two men shook hands.

‘Drinks, everyone.’ Abi brought a tray with a jug of Pimms and glasses out onto the terrace. She put the tray down and poured out four glasses. ‘Cheers,’ she said, taking a sip.

‘So, Stephen, Rosanna tells me you run an art gallery nearby,’ said Luca.

‘Yes, in Cheltenham. I decided to go it alone a few months ago. And so far, the gamble’s paying off. And I much prefer working here to the grime of London. It’s also an interesting challenge finding modern artists. I used to work at Sotheby’s, helping the team there authenticate and value Renaissance works.’

‘That sounds very interesting, Stephen. I’d love to learn more about the art world,’ Luca encouraged, but at that moment they were interrupted by Abi, who was brandishing a pair of tongs.

‘Right, I’d better get on with the barbeque. I’m warning you, I’m useless and I burn everything,’ she laughed as she made her way along the terrace. ‘Luca, can you bring out the meat? I’ll be ready to blacken everything in a few seconds.’

‘Of course.’

‘And I’d better go and fetch Nico from his cot,’ said Rosanna as she followed her brother into the house.

Ten minutes later, Rosanna appeared on the terrace with Nico, who was crying. ‘I’m afraid he’s always a little grumpy after his rest, aren’t you, darling?’

‘Hello, little chap,’ said Stephen.

Nico immediately stopped crying and stretched out his arms to him.

‘I see,’ nodded Abi, waving the tongs in the air. ‘We all know who’s flavour of the month, don’t we?’ She winked pointedly at Luca as Stephen and Nico set off hand in hand towards a playhouse Rosanna had bought him.

‘Babies are always the best judges of character,’ said Luca, winking back.

‘Would you mind helping me out here?’ asked Abi, her face flushed from the heat of the barbeque. Luca did so and the two of them watched surreptitiously as Rosanna joined Stephen and her son.

‘They do go well together, don’t they?’ said Abi.

‘Stephen seems a nice man, but let’s not push too hard. I know Rosanna of old and so do you. For all her sweetness, she’s also stubborn as a mule. It might be better if we disapproved,’ Luca replied as he forked the cooked sausages onto a plate.

‘Lunch is ready,’ called Abi and a few minutes later they all sat down to eat.

Afterwards, Stephen and Rosanna took Nico off for a walk to see the ducks on the village pond and Luca and Abi were left lying side by side on the picnic rug.

‘God, if only life could always be as lovely as today,’ she sighed. She rolled onto her front, picked a piece of grass and chewed it thoughtfully, staring across at Luca. ‘Are you asleep?’

‘No.’

‘I feel high on Pimms, sun and happiness,’ she remarked. ‘Oh, I do love you, Luca.’ She leant across and kissed him lightly on the lips. He didn’t respond, but he didn’t stop her either.

‘Did you hear me?’ she asked gently. ‘I love you. I’m a little drunk so I don’t actually care that I’ve said it.’

Luca’s eyes opened. Abi bent to kiss him again and felt his arm travel tentatively up her back. Then a small tornado hurtled towards them and threw itself on top of them.

‘Nico, you little monster!’ Luca rolled away from Abi and began to tickle his nephew, who giggled delightedly.

Abi sat up abruptly and saw that, thankfully, Rosanna and Stephen were still some distance away on the terrace.

‘Dinner sometime next week?’ Stephen asked Rosanna as they made their way slowly across the lawn towards the pile of bodies on the rug.

‘If Abi and Luca will babysit.’

‘I’m sure they’d be glad to. They seem very fond of each other.’

‘They are, and it’s lovely to see them enjoying each other’s company and renewing their friendship.’

‘Of course,’ Stephen nodded, deciding not to comment further on what he had seen happen between them a few minutes earlier.

Rosanna went upstairs to her bedroom early that night. She wanted to think about Stephen and what he meant to her. There was no point pretending anymore. In his gentle way, Stephen had made it perfectly clear to her that he wanted more from her than a friendship. Asking her out for dinner was a different thing altogether from passing a few pleasant daytime hours with Nico in tow.

She lay in bed trying to imagine what it would be like to have his hands touch her, make love to her . . . and rolled over in frustration. She knew she could never love Stephen in the way she had loved Roberto, but then, maybe she couldn’t feel for anyone that way. She didn’t want to hurt him, to make him believe she could feel something she couldn’t, but neither did she want to lose him: she and Nico would miss him terribly. Maybe she needed more time, maybe the love would grow . . .

Rosanna’s eyes were heavy. She couldn’t think of it any longer tonight. She turned off the light and prepared for sleep.

Downstairs in the kitchen Abi was washing the dishes and handing them to Luca to dry.

Luca yawned. ‘Sorry, it’s too much alcohol. I’m not used to drinking these days. I think I must go to bed.’

‘No! Luca, please, stay for a while. We have to talk.’ She sank down forlornly at the kitchen table and lit a cigarette.

His arms went immediately around her shoulders. ‘Abi, please, I don’t wish to upset you. I—’

‘Did you hear what I said this afternoon, Luca? I said I loved you. I know you think it was just the Pimms talking, but it’s true. I’ve loved you ever since those days in Milan. And I’ve done my best to keep away from you while you’ve been here. It was all going fine until you cooked supper for me the other night and told me about your disillusionment with the Church. And then . . . and then I kept thinking, maybe there’s a chance for us . . . I can’t help it.’ She ground her cigarette into the ashtray. ‘I can’t help wanting you. Oh, for Christ’s sake, you’re the priest! Comfort me, tell me what to do!’ She burst into helpless sobs and put her head in her hands.

‘Abi, don’t you understand that I loved you too?’

‘Did you?’

‘Yes.’

‘But Luca, do you still love me? That’s what I need to know.’ Her voice was muffled by her hands.

He looked down at her and exhaled slowly. ‘Yes, Abi, I still love you. Like you, I wondered if what I felt all those years ago was gone, but it hasn’t. And here I am with you again, at a time when I’m trying to make the most difficult decision of my life. How can I encourage our love when I can’t yet promise you anything? That would be selfish and unfair.’

She looked up at him. ‘Couldn’t you become an Anglican vicar or something? Then you could have me and religion!’

‘Abi,’ Luca chuckled as he stroked her hair.

She stood up. ‘Look, I think I ought to leave. It would be best for both of us. I can’t . . . I can’t . . .’ She shrugged helplessly. ‘I can’t control what I feel for you.’

‘Abi, do you wish me to be honest with you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then I will tell you I couldn’t bear for you to leave. Besides that, you have your work to finish. Abi’ – Luca took her hands in his – ‘we could go upstairs now and consummate our love. That is what we both want, yes?’

Abi nodded. ‘Yes.’

‘But don’t you see it would be wrong? I’m too confused about my future. I could make you promises that I may not be able to keep. Then you would hate me and I would hate myself for hurting you and for breaking the vows I took when I went into the seminary.’

‘I know all that, Luca,’ she sighed. ‘That’s why it’s better I go back to London.’

‘Wait a little,
cara
. I’ve been thinking that God does not say love is wrong. So . . .’ Luca paused and took a deep breath. ‘Is it not possible to look on the few weeks we have together as a gift? Time to be with each other, to be close again, to talk? And for us to work out whether what we feel is right for both of us?’

‘So, what you’re saying is that we can be lovers, but without the physical side,’ said Abi slowly.

‘Yes. In our heads’ – Luca pointed – ‘in our hearts. Maybe it’s too much to ask, but it is all I can offer.’

She stared at him. ‘Are you saying there might be a chance for us? In the future?’

‘I cannot promise anything, Abi. You must know that now.’

She nodded slowly and stood up. ‘Well, that’s certainly going to take some thinking about.’ She walked towards the door, then turned to look at him. ‘If I’m here tomorrow morning, then . . .’ She shrugged slightly. ‘If not, well . . . goodnight, Luca.’ She opened the door and left the kitchen.

The following morning Luca woke, climbed out of bed and went immediately to the window. He opened the curtains, his heart beating hard against his chest, and saw the little red Mazda still parked in the drive.

There was a knock on his door and he went to open it.

‘Abi, Abi.’ He took her into his arms and held her. ‘I was so frightened you might have gone.’

‘How could I? I love you. I have to take the chance, however small.’

She kissed him gently on the cheek then pulled away from him. ‘But for now, my darling, I must do some work. We’ll talk more later.’

The door shut behind her. Luca knelt down and asked God to forgive his weakness.

The Metropolitan Opera House, New York

So, Nico, Abi stayed on, although at the time I had no idea she had been thinking of leaving. And I remember that summer as a time of, if not perfect happiness, then at least of peace, and respite for my broken heart. Stephen visited most days, coming to the house after he’d shut the gallery. He’d play with you for a while before you went to bed, then the four of us would sit down to supper on the terrace, enjoying those glorious English summer evenings. Stephen was not a replacement for your father – no one could ever fill that space in my heart – but at least he brought back a little normality to my life. Sometimes, sitting on the terrace, I’d look round the table and realise how lucky I was to have people I cared for with me.

And I began to slowly come back to life. The numbness that had been there since your father left started to thaw a little. Instead of living just one day at a time, I was able to look to the future, face making plans that did not include Roberto. I started to believe there was a chance that one day the pain would leave, and even if it didn’t, that I had enough in my life to be fulfilled. I even began to think about returning to singing. Stephen, Abi and Luca were all encouraging. But I knew it wasn’t right just yet, that I needed a little more time.

And your uncle looked happier than I’d seen him for years. There was a quiet contentment about him, and Abi too. I should have seen what was right under my nose, but I was blind to it then, selfishly involved with my own feelings.

Then the days became shorter and the leaves on the trees began to turn lazily from green to gold and red. Abi and Luca talked of leaving, but then made no plans to do so. It was as if the four of us were trying to make time stand still, knowing the summer had to end, but unable to face reality just yet . . .

37

Gloucestershire, September 1982

In the kitchen, Luca was preparing dinner. Abi sat at the table drinking a glass of wine.