by Nanette Fox
Rebecca’s parents, Lucy and Michael, always talked amiably with Isabella. She could have rebelled against the abrupt changes when her parents died. Lucy and Michael Dalton provided a stable and loving base and she healed in her grief at the loss of her parents. Their valuable advice was always welcomed. Isabella found Lucy, gentle and loving. Michael, Rebecca’s father was quiet, soft-spoken and considerate of others. Isabella always felt secure and included in the Dalton household, spending as much time as possible there. She knew that as their ‘fostered’ daughter an arrangement stood for her to share some of her time with the Martinelli household, and at times she had begrudgingly moved from one family to the other.
Julia’s parents were much more challenging. Isabella had also been welcomed into Ruth and Marco’s home. It was a loud and boisterous home. The family consisted of two very intelligent, active, sport-loving sons, David and Tim, and one extremely bright, artistic daughter, Julia. The Martinelli parents, Ruth and Marco, were opinionated and spoke their mind. Marco was very much the master of the household, yet his wife would challenge him and argue her beliefs. An architect, he worked frequently from home but was also often abroad mostly in Italy and the UK. Marco was a visionary. He was a perfectionist. He was a strict task-master and expected his children to excel at everything, this extended to Isabella. He demanded high standards.
Ruth, his wife, an artist, was quite a difficult woman to understand. She was fiercely protective of her two eldest children, David and Julia, but with Tim, her youngest, it was almost as if, whilst she adored him, he was his father’s child, his father’s sole responsibility. Ruth and Tim, as mother and son, respected and loved each other but found a more emotional connection difficult. Ruth allowed David and Julia to be expressive, open, extroverted children, she expected Tim to be independent of her, and very self-sufficient. Ruth herself couldn’t explain her attitude. She encouraged Tim always to go to his father with any problems, or questions. Isabella too, had been taken in by Ruth but ‘assigned’ to Marco. As Isabella was close in age to David and Julia, she had grown-up spending most of her vacations with the two of them and had barely got to know their younger brother Tim. He always seemed so much younger and in his father’s shadow.
When Isabella came to Ruth announcing her engagement to Isaac, she found an enemy to battle. Ruth was eager to express her displeasure. Ruth didn’t like Isaac, a guardian mother’s protective instinct perhaps. She was deeply concerned of the affect the engagement would have on her precious eldest son, her ‘little Lord of the Manor’. Leaving Isabella in tears, Ruth accused Isabella of being a gold-digger who had been swayed by the large house, fast cars, and exotic life Isaac could offer. Ruth didn’t hesitate to pull the guilt card, advising Isabella that her parents would have been disappointed.
Julia’s father, a very traditional Italian man, believed Isabella should respect and obey her elders, taking the advice of all four parents and break off the relationship. Marco had come around when he saw how contented she seemed and how deeply and lovingly Isaac presumably cared for her. Marco seemed to admire Isaac’s drive and ambition, becoming apparent friends with him. This led to mutual business interests. Marco drew away from his architecture work and joined with Isaac in wide-ranging deals and investments. As their wealth increased, they developed quite a web of co-owned business arrangements.
Marco and Isaac became so enmeshed together that Marco drifted from the home preferring to be abroad chasing those business dealings. Ruth called it ‘the Isaac caravan’. It involved Isabella of course as Isaac’s wife, Marco and his sister, Tea, with her husband Adam, and Marco’s PA, Elizabeth. Even later, her dear friend Lucy seemed to be swept up briefly into the nomadic life ‘the Isaac caravan’ seemed to lead. Ruth saw Isabella not only as the girl who supposedly broke her son David’s heart, but she believed she had cajoled her husband away from their home with his desire to protect her from a perceived danger at the hands of Isaac.
Isaac had loved his prestige cars, but he also drove fast, too fast. Isaac and Marco had been like silly boys and gone shopping for cars one day ordering two identical Porsche. Initially, they’d thought about Ferrari’s but Porsche won out. Isabella was exceedingly cautious when it came to driving, forever reminding Isaac of her parents’ accident. His attitude to her concerns quite cavalier and she was gifted a lovely sporty Mercedes, with its Kashmir white finish, yet he knew she preferred walking or public transport. All she’d wanted was a small inexpensive vehicle that got her from A to B. Isaac wanted her, as his wife, to have an impressive show piece that reflected his status.
Isaac was keen to build a dynamic business career and tailored his life to fit those ambitions. Their Australian home was a sleek, modern one in the leafy streets of Kew. Isaac’s Real Estate portfolio extended to an extravagant apartment in London, investment homes and cottages dotted around the English countryside, an impressive villa in Tuscany and various interests in his family’s properties in Queensland. Isaac loved nice things, glamorous clothes, enjoyed dining out, spending money lavishly if it made an impression. He professed adoration for Isabella, spoiling her with anything she desired. As a couple, they travelled abroad frequently. This took her from her close friends and the families she knew so well. What they saw from the outside, looking in, appeared an idyllic life. For Isabella, it had been very difficult, a nightmare if the truth be told. Early in the marriage, difficulties arose and Marco with his business connections to Isaac became all too aware someone needed to provide Isabella support.
The fateful day had been just like any other. The accident took a horrible toll. Isaac had been on the phone apologizing for yet another argument, declaring his love; talking of a romantic holiday. On the road, in his beloved Porsche 911 Carrera driving too fast, he lost control and slammed into a tree with fatal consequences.
Just four years of marriage, she was alone again and for all the same reasons, a road accident. She was still very fragile. For a long time, she had appeared inconsolable. She had been in very delicate health at the time of his death, in fact in hospital recovering from what was reportedly a skiing accident. It was never really black and white as to the correct timeline of events. Marco Martinelli, as an apparent father figure and Lucy Dalton very much in the role of foster mother knew, of course, however it had been a very sad time and was best consigned to the past. The fledgling gallery had been in the hands of Julia and Rebecca for quite a few months after Isaac’s death as Isabella travelled extensively chasing peace and happiness. Isabella finally returned home to her ‘special’ families and seemed to settle. Occasionally, though she would still pick up and go somewhere just to escape her loneliness. She was now quite guilty of putting all her energies into the gallery. It was her security, her place hidden from the world. She would often work all week and then some. Isabella took on the duties of keeping the gallery open of a weekend, most usually Sunday. Rebecca’s concerns about Isabella’s health had escalated into an argument, the solution pushed Isabella into Tuesday afternoons off, Rebecca ensured it happened.
After Isaac’s death, Julia and Rebecca, together with the four parents, anxious to see her contented again, did all they could to show Isabella love and support. She gradually started to emerge as her confident, positive self; however, there was a sadness and vulnerability, so evident to those who cared deeply for her. At many social situations, they had witnessed her withdraw and escape into ‘Isabella world’ as they called it. She had become like the beautiful objects in her gallery, graceful, outwardly flawless, however so fragile within herself, everyone felt themselves on edge for fear she would shatter into a million pieces.
Chapter 7
The Importance of Being Isabella
She insisted people call her Isabella, in full. It was her name, very important, intrinsic to her very being. She thought it gave her an importance, an edge, a respectability and most of all it kept alive the memory of her parents. They had strictly called her Isabella in public, quietly within their home sh
e was ‘Izzy’ or ‘Bella’. To her husband, Isaac, she had been Isabella, in their more intimate moments he had called her ‘babe’ nothing more, nothing less. Doting Uncle Robert only ever called her Isabella. It was important to her that it was only her parents who had called her a shortened version of Isabella. Rebecca was allowed an occasional ‘Izzy’ but in rare, very infrequent gentle teasing. Julia called her Isabella, very occasionally ‘Iz’ to get her attention.
The one person who had always got away with a simple ‘Izzy’ had been Tim Martinelli. He called his brother Dave, Davey, or versions of ‘bro’, ‘big bro’, ‘old bro’ whatever suited the emotion he was feeling about his brother at the time. His sister was Julia, Jules, or just simply Sis. But as for Isabella, she had become Izzy. She had protested often, loudly and overly dramatically, in her younger years, she was Isabella and that is what he should call her, he had taken the attitude that he didn’t give a hoot, she was Izzy. Reluctantly over time, she had accepted ‘it was a Tim thing’, and she no longer fought about it.
Tim recognized that yes, she was Isabella and that was her full name but as far as he was concerned it wasn’t a name for ‘the real’ person. He was only just 10 or 11 when she came to stay for the first time and to him ‘Isabella’ was just too uptight. He much preferred Izzy as a true reflection of the pretty, soft and gentle person that was sometimes staying with his family. He loved to nickname people and ‘Isabella’ was not only far too proper for his liking and a bit of a mouthful, it didn’t describe her. He had earnestly discussed it with his parents but as much as they tried to convince him he should respect her wishes to be Isabella as far he was concerned, she was Izzy.
Chapter 8
To the Story
During dinner with David, she was drifting in and out of the conversation, her mind on the day and in particular the emotions she had felt with Tim. He should be just like a brother or a friend; however, she couldn’t deny there was an intense attraction to him. David should be like a brother too, in truth though they had always had a half-hearted romance. She wasn’t really thinking about David and Tim being siblings and the complications of having been in a relationship with one and now getting involved with the other could bring. With Tim, this afternoon, it was as if he had come into her world as a new, very handsome man. The years of minimal contact had given him an aura of ‘attractive unknown stranger’. What Isabella was all too aware of, was David really pushing their romance. He was lovely but just not the person for her. Her thoughts compared them as men.
David jolted her back to the present, “So Miss Isabella, should we have dessert?”
Isabella responded, “No, I don’t think so, and if you don’t mind, I would like to call it a night.” David looked disappointed; his puppy-dog looks hard to resist. Resist she did for a change. “Not tonight Mr Dave, sorry.” Isabella knew it was time to go home after the emotionally draining day.
Once home, after a shower, and snuggling into her most comfortable pyjamas, she fell asleep worrying about what she should wear to the office. It was going to be exciting to see Tim again, and she needed to look attractive not business-like. She needed to look youngish too, not older. Instead of counting sheep, she dozed off scanning the racks of her wardrobe…
Chapter 9
TIM
Ruth was flicking through cookbooks, looking for inspiration for a catch-up dinner she was planning with Lucy and Michael, when she felt someone watching her. Turning around, she found Tim, her younger son, sort of hanging in the doorway. He was standing tall, up to his full 6’3" and had his arms above his head, so that he looked as if he was hanging from the door frame monkey-like. He was smiling, which in itself, Ruth found unusual, he was normally mooching around, so dark and brooding, in his black leathers, or dark clothes. “Hi Mum, can we have dinner together?”
Ruth smiled back, “Of course Tim, yes, of course, I have some lovely steaks in the refrigerator, maybe some salad?” She was tickled pink, if she was true to herself, for quite a while he had come and gone, in and out of the house, barely giving her or anyone else a grunt of acknowledgement.
“That be brill’, I’ll barbeque the steaks, let me get out of these bike leathers.” Ruth looked after him as he turned and went away to get changed. Ruth was left reflecting on the echo of Marco ‘that be brill’.
This was remarkable. Tim had been so unreachable for so long. In his third year at University, all sorts of hell-fire had been unleashed between herself, Marco and Tim. He was with his steady girlfriend but had strayed away chasing edginess and danger. He’d made his ‘one big mistake’ as everyone in the family rationalized it. They had encouraged him to continue with Victoria, but it had changed him, he wasn’t just independent and self-sufficient, he was a closed book. Ruth and Marco had relied on his lovely gossipy girlfriend, Victoria, or Vicky as she was often called, to catch up on his goings on. He had evolved into a very driven, career ambitious man, so very similar to his father. He rarely ‘chatted’; spoke when spoken too and bottled up his emotions. The death of his beloved father, Marco, had been unexpected. Tim carried out the duties expected as a bereaved family member, was stoic in his response and had shown no outward sign of grief. He had become even more independent of everyone, if that was possible, dropping himself solely into finishing his architecture studies, fortunately achieving amazing results.
Ruth and Vicky saw a lot of each other, always chatting over the phone or meeting for coffee. Vicky had a key to the house and Ruth welcomed her coming and going. At Ruth and Vicky’s last coffee date, Vicky was visibly teary and upset when the subject of Tim came up but didn’t share what was troubling her. Tim and Vicky had been a couple since year twelve, a cute couple. They worked part-time during high school at the same supermarket as another couple they spent a great deal of time with, Tim’s best friend, Simon and his girlfriend, Ursula.
After finishing school, Vicky went into the workforce as a Receptionist at one of the local real-estate agencies. She hadn’t wanted to study further. She seemed content, expected to marry, work for a few years, and settle locally, having a family of children. Ruth had heard that Tim was substantially less keen to settle down, and Vicky was uncertain where she stood. Ruth figured Tim was easing Vicky gradually out of his life. Tim and Vicky never quite returned to being the same after Tim’s third year indiscretions, he had a part of his life he kept very secret and so their dynamic over the second half of their eight-year relationship had been quite different. Tim and Vicky had even tried living together. For reasons known only to Tim and Victoria, after his father died, Tim had come home to live; renovating and moving back into his old room just after the funeral.
“Right, where are those steaks?” as he swung back the door of the refrigerator. Plonking the container on the bench, he turned to grab all the salad ingredients, dragged all the drawers open for utensils, plates and chopping boards. He was so purposeful and determined, Ruth felt somewhat redundant. She had dawdled over her cup of tea whilst he had been off shedding his leathers. “Mum, why don’t you sit down, I’ll get this.”
Ruth could hardly contain her joy at his positivity. She decided to let him get on with the meal and busied herself with setting two places on the table, calling out to Tim if he wanted a beer or wine. She stopped, reflected, she had no idea what he preferred. His father would have known.
Ruth sat at the table waiting as he showed he was quite capable of getting the meal. Tim had lived with Victoria most recently of course but had been away sharing houses with friends quite often. There had been many holiday fishing and camping trips with his father. She assumed that was how he had learned his way around a kitchen. She knew only too well though that anything Tim tried, he generally succeeded with, he was never happy with less than one hundred and ten percent and more. Ruth suddenly felt devastated she had become so ignorant of her own son. She knew she put all her energies into David and Julia, spending very little time bothering with Tim, knowing he was safe with Marco.
Tim came to the table with the food, and looking relaxed and pleased with himself, proceeded to ‘hoe in’. He actually surprised himself how hungry he was, he had been eating, but sparingly, for so long. He was very, very conscious of what he ate, lots of fruit and vegetables in his diet. He usually grabbed quick meals on the run, not wanting to have to stop and engage in meal-time conversations. He had been healthy though, no junk food for quite a number of months. When the weather was too cold to swim in the family’s pool, he fitted in a daily gym session. It was one of the many causes of squabbles with Vic; he’d no interest in lunch or dinner dates or anything that didn’t fit his self-absorbed lifestyle. She had been distraught when he refused to eat his birthday cake, she had spent hours baking for him.
It was nice to sit with his mother. He needed to talk to her and this was his opportunity. He took a deep breath and started, “Mum, I have to talk to you about a few things.” Ruth looked up, alarmed, wondering what was coming. “Firstly Mum, I have felt overwhelmed lately.” Ruth reached out to take his hand. “Mum, I know I look ‘in control’, I am not.” The dark, brooding eyes looked deep into her soul. "There has been so much happening. What with Dad passing away and finishing my degree. I gave up my part-time work, so I’ve had money worries. The difficulties with Vic, I think our relationship is over. You know I am kidding myself staying with Vic, I don’t love her enough.
Then there is my career. The need to start to establish myself; either out alone or with an established firm." He took a swig of his beer. “As much as I loved Dad, I need to be Tim Martinelli, not Marco’s son. I need to be an architect in my own right.”
“As for my personal life, I want to really love the person I am with not just being with them because we look ‘pretty’ as a couple and have drifted along for ages.” He paused, “There’s other worries too, things that are just too complicated and difficult to share. It is all just piling up, all the stresses. I am in a very dark place.”
