‘I believe she has accepted her lot.’
Rosanna stared into the distance. ‘When I was young, she was so vibrant, so beautiful. And then, when she married Giulio and Ella was born, she changed. I hope that it won’t be the same for me.’
‘Sometimes, things happen that change us in ways we least expect, piccolina. Look at you meeting Roberto.’
‘You think he’s changed me?’
‘Well, your life has certainly changed. You haven’t been back to Italy for a long time. Is there any reason for that?’
‘I . . . yes . . . it’s just that Roberto cannot . . .’ Rosanna shook her head. ‘It’s a long story. I had to be with Roberto, wherever he was. That’s why I didn’t return to La Scala to sing Mimi in La Bohème. I still feel terrible about letting Paolo down but I didn’t feel as though I had a choice.’
‘Then I’m right. Marrying Roberto has changed you. It’s maybe not my place to say so, but be careful you don’t cut everyone else out of your life, Rosanna. Your family still love you and I know Papa is hurt that you and Roberto haven’t visited him since you married. He’s not getting any younger, you know.’
‘I know, Luca,’ Rosanna sighed. ‘I miss the family too, but apart from anything else, our schedule has been so tight. There are so many people I’m always meaning to write to or try to visit. But when La Bohème finishes at the end of July, I’ll at last have time to catch up. And maybe when the baby is born, I’ll fly over and visit Papa and Carlotta. Now, you must be hungry.’
Anxious to change the subject, Rosanna stood up and went over to the fridge. She retrieved some cold meats, pâté and a salad she’d prepared earlier. Luca watched her as she set the table and deftly sliced a loaf of bread. He knew his sister too well to try to press her any further on the topic of Roberto.
‘Do you ever hear from Abi?’ he asked as she sat down again opposite him.
‘It’s funny you should ask, as I got a postcard from her this morning,’ she replied, offering him the salad bowl. ‘Apparently she’s travelling in Australia at the moment, then intends to visit the Far East. But she said she’ll be in London in the autumn. To be truthful, I’ve not tried as hard as I could have to keep in touch. Abi had a brief affair with Roberto, you see. It was hard for me and I think we both needed time for the dust to settle. Maybe we can see each other when she’s back in London.’
Luca hid a stab of pain at the thought that Abi too had apparently succumbed to Roberto Rossini’s charms. ‘That would be good for you. It’s nice to keep in touch with old friends. You and Abi were very close.’ He spread some pâté on his bread.
‘Do you ever hear from her, Luca?’
Luca’s eyes softened as he shook his head. ‘No. I cared for her, very much.’
‘But you cared for God more?’
‘He’s my priority, Rosanna, just as now Roberto is yours.’
‘Do you ever get lonely in the seminary?’
‘What do you mean?’ he asked her.
‘Well, you’re unable to share your life with anyone.’
‘Rosanna, I have God, and He is all I need. There are many different types of love, you know. And as yours is for Roberto, so mine is for Him. Now, tell me of all the places you have visited since you began your travels.’
The following day, Rosanna took Luca sightseeing in London and in the evening they went to the Royal Opera House to see a production of Aida.
‘If only it was you on that stage, Rosanna. It’s so sad that I have never seen you sing since you were at school in Milan,’ Luca lamented as they took a taxi back to Kensington.
‘In a few weeks’ time, it will be me. But I enjoyed watching the performance and then picking that poor soprano to pieces afterwards,’ Rosanna giggled.
On Sunday they attended Mass at Westminster Cathedral, then Rosanna cooked roast beef. They took a walk in Kensington Gardens and returned home, tired but relaxed.
‘Are you okay, piccolina?’ asked Luca as he came into the sitting room later that evening and saw the sadness on her face.
‘I just don’t want you to leave tomorrow, that’s all.’
‘I know. It’s been wonderful to see you. It has reminded me of all the old times in Milan. We had a lot of fun in between the hard work.’
‘We did,’ Rosanna nodded, before yawning. ‘Oh dear. I seem to get sleepy so early in the evening these days. Is that normal, do you think?’
‘Of course it is, and you must go to bed. Promise me you’ll take care of yourself when you start La Bohème. You have another tiny soul to think of now.’
‘I will.’ Rosanna agreed. ‘It’s such a shame that you didn’t see Roberto, but at least we’ve had time to ourselves to catch up.’
‘Yes.’ Luca privately thought that the less his and Roberto’s paths crossed, the better for everyone concerned.
Rosanna stood up and threw her arms around her brother. ‘You don’t know how much I’ve enjoyed seeing you again. Please can we try and see each other more often?’
‘We can try, but you know it’s difficult.’
‘I know. There’s always a price to pay for everything, isn’t there?’
Luca kissed her on both cheeks. ‘Remember, Rosanna, if I’m not here in person, I’m always thinking of you.’
‘Come and see your new godchild when he or she is born, won’t you?’ she said, making her way to the door.
‘Nothing could stop me doing that. Goodnight, piccolina. Sleep well.’
Luca sat downstairs for another hour before making his way up to bed. He leafed through a scrapbook full of newspaper and magazine cuttings that Rosanna had given him. In every photograph, Rosanna was looking up at Roberto with love shining out of her eyes.
It was obvious that the man made his sister very happy. And for that reason alone, he’d ask God to help him find forgiveness for all that Roberto had done before.
Rosanna arrived back from saying goodbye to her brother at Heathrow feeling very low. In the past four years, she’d forgotten how close she and Luca had been. Now he’d gone and she had no idea when she’d see him again.
Slowly, she climbed the steps to the front door. Then, as she searched for her key, the door was opened and she was enveloped in Roberto’s arms.
‘My darling girl,’ he said. ‘Where have you been? I was getting worried, cara. I arrived from Gatwick and you were gone.’
‘I went with Luca to Heathrow.’
Roberto led Rosanna inside and took her coat from her shoulders, hanging it over the banister.
‘How was your brother?’
‘Very well.’
‘Good. Come here.’ Roberto pulled her towards him and kissed her hard. ‘You don’t know how I missed you, cara.’
Rosanna smiled up at him, her heart lifting. This was home and Roberto was all that mattered.
27
London, October 1980
Rosanna awoke and saw it was only half past six. She crept out of bed, went to the bathroom, then made her way downstairs to the kitchen. A heavy autumnal mist was hanging outside. The leaves on the tree in the garden were turning brown and dropping one by one to the ground, a signal that summer was well and truly over. She made a cup of tea, then manoeuvred herself into a chair and laid her head down on the cool surface of the table.
At eleven o’clock, Roberto would leave for New York.
Eight weeks ago, the final night of La Bohème had been all the more poignant as it was the last time they would sing together for many months. Since then, they had tried to remain cheerful and enjoy the time they had together, but their imminent separation had hung over them both like a pall.
The baby gave a kick under her ribs. She sat upright and tried to rally her spirits. She would not cry when he left. She didn’t want Roberto’s last memory of her to be a bloated wreck with red, puffy eyes. Rosanna drained her teacup and waddled upstairs to shower.
An hour later Roberto arrived in the kitchen. With a sigh, he sat down at the table.
&nbs
p; ‘There’s coffee in the pot and I’ve cooked you some sausages – I know you like sau . . . sausages.’ Rosanna’s voice faltered but she managed a smile as she turned to look at him.
‘Thank you, cara.’
She dished out the sausages, together with some fried mushrooms and tomatoes, onto two plates and took them over to the table.
‘This looks delicious.’
‘Well, I wanted you to have a treat as airline food is always terrible. But promise me you’ll watch your weight when you get to New York. Dr Hardy said you should lose at least twelve kilos.’
‘Yes, of course.’ Roberto began to eat. ‘Now, you know that I’m staying at Chris’s apartment, so you’ll be able to reach me there. And if there’s an important message you can always call me at the Met. I’ll warn them they must find me urgently.’
‘Don’t worry, caro. I have told this bump it can’t make an appearance before its papa’s back home. I still have six weeks to go. Six more weeks of this,’ she sighed. ‘Am I having a baby or an elephant? Imagine how huge I’ll be when you get home. I might have exploded by then,’ she said seriously.
‘Any problems, Rosanna, call Dr Hardy immediately.’
‘Of course.’
‘I’m sure you won’t be lonely, cara. Lots of people from Covent Garden will pop in.’
‘I’m sure I’ll be fine.’
Neither of them finished their breakfast. In the end, Rosanna stood up and began to clear the table.
‘I’d better go and shower,’ said Roberto.
She looked at the clock as he left the kitchen. In less than an hour, he would leave her.
‘The car is here.’ Roberto shrugged on his overcoat.
Rosanna watched him as he did so, willing herself not to let the tears pour down her cheeks.
‘Amore mio.’ Roberto’s arms encircled her. ‘How I love you, how I miss you already. I’ll count the days until I’m back with you again.’
‘Take care of yourself, Roberto. Ti amo, caro.’
He nodded as he left her arms and hurried down the steps to the waiting car. He turned, blew Rosanna a kiss before climbing inside, and waved as the car pulled away from the pavement.
Then he was gone.
The first week without Roberto seemed endless, although Rosanna had a stream of visitors appearing on her doorstep. Sometimes, they provided a blessed relief from boredom. At other times, she felt so tired and low and fragile that she wished they would leave almost as soon as they’d arrived. Roberto called her three times a day, whispering words of love down the telephone line, telling her how much he missed her. For those few minutes, Rosanna was happy. Then she’d put down the receiver and weep.
The way she missed him . . . it was a physical pain. Having to do alone the things they had always done together, even simple everyday chores, actually hurt.
And the nights . . . the nights stretched before her like a yawning abyss. Without him there beside her, she found it almost impossible to sleep. And when she did drop off, the baby would kick her awake.
On her first Saturday night alone, Roberto didn’t ring at his usual time. When he did call an hour later, she burst into tears and sobbed down the telephone, begging him to come home. Roberto was apologetic: rehearsals had run over and there had been nothing he could do. She replied mournfully that she was sorry for being such an idiot, and put the receiver down.
She went to the bathroom, and, as she washed her hands, she stared at her reflection in the mirror.
You look dreadful, she told herself. You have to pull yourself together.
Rosanna showered, donned her accommodating towelling robe, then made her way downstairs to make some supper. As she sat in the kitchen forcing the food down her throat, she realised how her love for Roberto controlled her.
What if one day he left her? Rosanna gulped as her heartbeat increased. She was being stupid. She couldn’t – mustn’t – contemplate it. Stress was bad for the baby and she’d given it a literal bellyful in the past two weeks.
Rosanna stood up and put on a cassette tape of the two of them singing ‘Dolce notte! Quante stelle!’ from Madama Butterfly.
The voices soothed her and she smiled.
In three weeks’ time he’d be back home and she could forget this nightmare. One thing was certain: she would never let him leave her behind again.
Roberto felt drained and a little drunk. He glanced around at the animated crowd gathered on the stage of the Metropolitan Opera House, chatting and drinking champagne. Yet he felt lonely and bereft. Although he’d been aware of the deep feelings he had for his wife, it was only after two weeks alone that the truth had begun to sink in.
Tonight’s opening of the new opera, Dante, had been a huge success. New York was at his feet. He was at the pinnacle. And as miserable as hell.
Without Rosanna, it all meant nothing.
He yawned, then checked his watch. He would leave in five minutes. He’d promised Rosanna he’d call her the minute he got home.
‘Don’t you agree, Mr Rossini?’
‘Forgive me, signora, I didn’t catch what you said.’
The wealthy New York matron repeated her theory about funding for the arts.
‘Of course I agree completely. Governments must provide more money for the opera if they wish to see it last into the next century. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must go home and telephone my wife.’
He nodded to Chris Hughes. ‘I’m off. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.’
His limousine was waiting for him by the stage door.
‘Home, sir?’
‘Yes, please.’
The limousine pulled away from the pavement and headed for Chris’s apartment on the Upper West Side of Manhattan.
‘Here we are, sir.’ The chauffeur opened Roberto’s door and he stepped out under the awning of the smart apartment block.
‘Goodnight.’
‘Goodnight, sir.’
Roberto took the elevator to the twenty-eighth floor. As he opened the front door, he could hear the telephone ringing from within. He ran into the sitting room and picked up the receiver.
‘Hello?’
‘It’s me. I’ve just woken up and I thought I’d call you. How did it go?’
‘It was a sensation, principessa. Apart from the fact you weren’t there beside me.’
‘How was Francesca Romanos?’
‘The audience liked her.’
There was a pause before Rosanna answered. ‘Oh.’
‘Would you prefer me to tell you she was dreadful?’ Roberto chuckled.
‘Of course I would.’
‘Francesca is not and never will be you. You are the greatest soprano in the world. You know that.’
‘I’m being silly, but you can imagine how I’ve felt, knowing another singer was taking my place opposite you, while I’ve been lying here like a great fat dumpling.’
‘Well, my little dumpling, I think you are the most beautiful creature in the world.’
‘Are you still missing me?’ she asked plaintively.
‘Of course I am, Rosanna. See? I even left the party early so I could telephone you. It was still in full swing.’
‘Who was there?’ Rosanna’s voice sounded strained.
‘Oh, the usual crowd. Everyone sends their love and their best wishes.’
‘That’s nice. No beautiful women trying to steal you from me?’
‘A few . . .’ Roberto heard Rosanna catch her breath. ‘I’m only teasing you, cara. You mustn’t be so sensitive.’
‘I know, I’m sorry. But you don’t know how lonely it is without you. I sleep with your sweater next to me.’ She sighed wistfully.
‘Well, not for much longer. I’ll be there before you know it,’ Roberto reassured her gently.
‘At least Abi’s coming to see me tomorrow. We might go out for lunch, so don’t worry if I’m not here if you call.’
‘Okay. But please don’t listen to anything she says about me. You know what hap
pened between us,’ Roberto said uncomfortably.
‘I know, but that’s all in the past now. She was my best friend and it’s high time we saw each other again. Will you call me tomorrow when you wake up?’
‘Of course.’
‘Then I’d better let you go. You must be exhausted.’
‘I am a little tired. Now, you try and get some more sleep. It’s good for you and the baby.’
‘I will try but it’s impossible. Ti amo, Roberto.’
‘I love you too.’
‘Sleep tight.’
Roberto put down the receiver and paced restlessly around the sitting room, unable to settle. His libido always rose with his adrenaline when he performed and this was the first night in over two years Rosanna hadn’t been there to calm him with her beautiful body.
There was nothing for it but a cold shower.
At one o’clock the following day, the telephone rang and Rosanna hurried to answer it.
‘Principessa, it’s me. I love you, I miss you, I long for your body, I want to drown in you . . .’
Rosanna giggled. ‘Good morning, Roberto.’
‘Oh cara. Without you, the days seem endless,’ he groaned.
‘Roberto, I know, but they’ll pass quickly and soon we’ll be together. That’s what you’re always telling me.’
‘What is this? You’re not missing me anymore? You sound far too happy!’
‘You’ve been chiding me for sounding miserable for the past two weeks.’
‘You’ve found someone else, that is it. Who is he? I shall kill him with my bare hands.’
‘No one would want me like this, I promise you.’
‘I would, Rosanna. I ache for you. Be prepared for a week in bed when I return.’
‘I long for it too,’ she smiled, experiencing a frisson of anticipation.
‘So, you still haven’t told me why you sound so happy?’ Roberto continued.
The doorbell rang.
‘I . . . Roberto, Abi has arrived. I must go.’
‘Okay, okay, I understand. You don’t wish to speak to me now you’ve another woman to gossip with,’ he laughed, happy to hear her sounding so positive, even if he was nervous of Abi’s attitude towards him. ‘Ti amo, Rosanna. And remember not to listen to any bad things she might say about your husband.’
The Italian Girl Page 24
