Rosanna went white as the woman continued to gush about Roberto.
John St Regent saw her face. ‘Trish, you’re embarrassing the poor girl.’ He brushed past his wife, smiled warmly at Rosanna and held out his hand. ‘John St Regent. Welcome to our home.’
‘Hello.’ Rosanna managed a smile as John shook hands with her, then Stephen.
‘Pleased you could come, buddy. We got a lot to talk about, but later.’ John offered Rosanna his arm. ‘You come through with me, honey. I’ll take care of you.’
Leaving Stephen in the hall with Trish, admiring a new sculpture the couple had recently acquired, Rosanna took John’s arm as he led her into the magnificent sitting room.
‘Champagne?’ he asked her, signalling to a uniformed maid to bring over a tray.
‘Thank you.’ Rosanna took a glass as John steered her over to the floor-length windows.
‘No better sight anywhere in the world,’ he said, gesturing at the lamp-lit expanse of Central Park far below them.
‘It is a stunning view, yes.’
Leaning closer he said, ‘Don’t mind my wife. She still sometimes behaves like the cocktail waitress she used to be – always wants to know the customer’s gossip.’
As he winked conspiratorially at her, Rosanna warmed to him and relaxed a little.
‘There’ll be no more talk of your ex. I’ll see to that, okay?’
‘Thank you,’ Rosanna said gratefully.
‘Anyway, seems to me you’ve got yourself a far better guy for company now. I’ve known Stephen for ten years. He’s a good man.’
‘Yes, he is,’ she responded as Trish and Stephen came into the room.
‘Oh, isn’t this cosy? Just the four of us. I so love intimate dinners. It means you can really get to know each other,’ Trish chirped, as the maid offered Stephen a glass of champagne.
Rosanna gave an inward sigh and knew it was going to be a long night.
After dinner, Stephen and John went off to his study to talk business. Trish moved next to Rosanna on the sofa and took her hands in hers. ‘Now, I know my husband asked me to lay off about Roberto, but sometimes it does you good to have a chat.’ Trish looked at Rosanna expectantly. When nothing was forthcoming, she prompted: ‘We see him all the time, you know. Donatella Bianchi is a friend of mine, and . . . you do know about him and Donatella, don’t you?’
‘Yes.’ Rosanna stared down at her new shoes. She was strongly tempted to make her excuses and leave immediately. Yet there was something strangely disarming about Trish’s Texan bluntness and this entire weekend was turning into a test of her mental strength. Maybe, she pondered as she listened to the woman, it could provide a catharsis, too.
‘Oh honey, now I’m beginning to understand. You’re still holding a candle for him, aren’t you? I just thought that now you were with Stephen, that—’
‘No. It’s over,’ Rosanna said, looking Trish straight in the eye. ‘In fact, when I get back to England, I’m going to divorce Roberto.’
Rosanna was more surprised than Trish at the words she had just spoken.
‘Now, I’ve upset you,’ Trish said. ‘Johnny’s right, I just can’t learn to keep my mouth shut.’
‘No, you haven’t upset me. In fact, you might have been right, Trish. It helps to talk about it sometimes,’ Rosanna said, determined now not to crack.
‘Honestly, honey, you’re better off without him. I know for a fact he hasn’t been faithful to Donatella, but she doesn’t seem to mind. They’re suited, those two, whereas a delicate blossom like you needs a good old-fashioned, faithful man to tend to her. Now, more important than Roberto, when are you going to return to the opera? We’ve all missed you at the Met,’ Trish said genuinely.
‘I don’t know, Trish, I really don’t. Maybe when my son is older.’
‘Well, as long as it’s your baby stopping you and not your soon-to-be-ex-husband. You have a real gift and you can’t allow yourself to waste it. One thing I’ve learnt about life is that it ain’t a dress rehearsal. It’s harder for us women. You gotta be tougher than men if you want to be happy. Take it from someone who knows.’ She smiled kindly, and, for all her lack of subtlety, Rosanna knew she meant well.
‘Darling, would you like to come with me and see John’s most precious piece?’ Stephen came into the sitting room, guessing that Rosanna might need rescuing.
‘Yes, I’d love to,’ Rosanna answered gratefully.
‘Then follow this way.’ Stephen led her by the hand through the sitting room and along a corridor virtually collapsing under the weight of stunning works of art. At the end of the corridor was a steel door. John was waiting beside it. He tapped a code into the security keypad on the wall then pushed the door open with his shoulder.
Inside, the room was dark and cramped, with only a dim picture light shining above a small frame mounted on the wall. John steered Rosanna by the shoulders to the chair facing the picture. ‘There, take a look at that. Isn’t it one of the most beautiful things you ever did see?’
Rosanna gazed at the drawing in front of her. It was of the Madonna. ‘Who is it by?’
‘Leonardo da Vinci.’
‘Oh my goodness!’ she breathed and stepped forward to take a closer look.
‘It’s a bit of a secret, Rosanna, but we trust you not to spill the beans,’ said Stephen.
‘You see, honey’ – John stood behind her and rested his hands on her shoulders as he stared at the painting – ‘sometimes you have to be cunning to acquire a special work of art. It’s all a case of knowing the right dealers and I sure got lucky with this one.’
‘Do you mind me asking what you paid for it?’ asked Stephen.
‘Several million dollars. I reckon I got it cheap, considering it’s priceless. But to be honest, it isn’t really the money, nor the artist. I just love that goddamn face. I sit in here for hours staring at it, you know. Trish thinks I’m crazy. Maybe I am.’
‘Have you had it authenticated?’ asked Stephen.
‘The dealer who sold it to me was as solid as a rock and produced the appropriate paperwork. It’s the real thing all right.’
Stephen nodded. ‘Would you let me take a closer look at it next time I’m over? As a Renaissance expert, it’s of incredible interest to me. You know, it would be of huge importance if you were to go public with your find. There are only a handful of undisputed Leonardos in the world. If this is one of his, it’s priceless indeed.’
‘Sure you can look, but I know you’ll find it’s kosher,’ John confirmed. ‘What do you think of it, Rosanna?’
‘I think it’s exquisite. I understand why you love it so much.’
‘Got taste, your girlfriend.’ John held the door open as Stephen switched off the light and they filed out of the room. Trish was sipping brandy in the sitting room.
‘Had your fix, sweetie?’ she asked her husband. ‘Honestly’ – Trish raised her eyebrows at Rosanna – ‘some men get off on chasing other women, some on drink and gambling. My husband, he sits in a closet for hours and gets his kicks staring at a drawing of a virgin! Ah well,’ she sighed, standing up and throwing her arms around John, ‘I love him anyway.’
‘I think Rosanna and I ought to be making a move.’ Stephen placed a hand on Rosanna’s shoulder. ‘We’re flying home tomorrow morning.’
‘Such a shame your stay was so short,’ said John.
‘Well, you’ll have to come back and see us soon, maybe when you decide to make an honest woman of this one. We’ll throw a party for you.’ Trish’s eyes twinkled.
‘One day maybe,’ smiled Stephen, while Rosanna yet again stood beside him uncomfortably. ‘I’ll call the airline about shipment tomorrow, John. I reckon you should have the first painting by the end of the month.’
‘Great. You see, Rosanna, sometimes you got to get in at the beginning. Spot the artists that’ll be big in twenty years’ time,’ John explained.
‘When you’re in your grave,’ quipped Trish as the four of them walked into the h
all.
‘Don’t listen to her. She just doesn’t appreciate art. This landscape artist Stephen’s gotten hold of, I reckon she’s going to be one of them.’
‘I hope you’re right,’ said Stephen, kissing his hostess on both cheeks. ‘Thanks for a lovely evening.’
‘Anytime, Stephen. And you take care of this little lady of yours, you hear?’
‘I’ll do my best,’ he promised.
‘Our chauffeur is waiting outside to take you back to the hotel,’ called John as Rosanna and Stephen made their way towards the elevator.
‘Thanks. Goodnight, John.’
A few minutes later, they were sitting in the back of the stretch limousine as it cruised slowly down Fifth Avenue towards the Plaza.
‘What did you think of that drawing?’ Stephen asked her.
‘I thought it was exquisite, as I said. Is it really by Leonardo?’
‘Well, it certainly looks as though it could be, but I’d have to take it through a proper authentication process to be absolutely certain. Truth be told, I’m itching to get my hands on it. If it is a Leonardo, it’s the find of the century.’
‘But what does it matter? No one but John and a few guests will ever get to see it.’
‘One day they will. John was telling me of his plans to donate his entire collection to the Metropolitan Museum of Art when he dies. My goodness, I’d like to see the look on a few faces when they see that little drawing.’
Rosanna stifled a yawn. ‘Excuse me.’
‘You look exhausted, darling.’ Stephen turned his attention back to her. ‘Have you enjoyed New York? I know it hasn’t been easy for you.’
‘Oh yes, I really have, thank you.’
‘I could have died when Trish started going on about Roberto.’
‘It doesn’t matter, really. And I know I have to move on. This weekend has really helped me do that.’
‘Well, I’m sorry I had to leave you alone with Trish, but it was important. Look at this.’ Stephen took his wallet out of his jacket and produced a cheque. ‘It’s for fifteen thousand dollars. Pocket change to John, but a few months’ rent on the gallery for me.’
‘I’m so glad for you. You obviously have a gift for spotting new talent.’
‘Thank you. I just hope it continues,’ he breathed. ‘Did Trish quiz you when we left the room?’
‘Of course she did.’
‘And you coped?’
‘Well, I told her I was going to divorce Roberto as soon as I got back to England.’ Rosanna turned and stared out of the window.
‘I . . . are you?’ Stephen looked astonished.
Rosanna nodded. ‘Oh yes. I am.’
40
As Stephen drove the Jaguar down the country lane that led to The Manor House, he glanced at Rosanna and saw that she was twisting her hands in her lap. ‘You really have to learn to control those nerves of yours. I’m sure everything’s fine with Nico,’ he said gently. ‘Abi would have called if it wasn’t.’
‘Of course it will be. I’m being silly again, I know.’
They pulled into the drive and Abi opened the front door, with Nico standing beside her.
As Rosanna stepped out of the car, Nico’s eyes lit up.
‘Mamma! Mamma!’ He reached out for her and Rosanna ran to him and swept him into a tight embrace.
‘Hello, darling, have you been a good boy for Auntie Abi?’
‘Yes, he has, actually. We’ve had a great time, haven’t we, Nico?’
‘He certainly looks very well,’ said Rosanna, kissing the top of his head.
‘See? I managed not to maim, suffocate or electrocute him.’ Abi sniffed in mock hurt and turned to Stephen. ‘Honestly, you’ll have to start controlling this woman of yours. If she refuses to trust me, I may not play nursemaid again.’
‘Forgive me, Abi, it’s the first time I’ve left him for more than a few hours.’
‘Well, he’s been absolutely fine.’ The two women walked towards the house with Nico while Stephen unloaded their cases. ‘Now, did you have a good time?’
‘Yes, I did; we both did. You must see what I brought back with me.’
Abi glanced behind her at Stephen, heaving the bags and cases out of the boot. ‘The whole of New York, from the looks of things.’
‘Can you bring the bags into the sitting room, Stephen? Then I can give Nico his presents,’ Rosanna called.
‘I’m at your service, m’lady,’ Stephen retorted, tipping his imaginary cap.
Half an hour later, the three of them were drinking tea and watching Nico playing with his new Mickey Mouse stuffed toy and miniature Chevrolet car.
‘That child will be ruined if you’re not careful, Rosanna,’ admonished Abi.
‘I like spoiling him sometimes.’ Rosanna stroked her son’s dark head.
‘Have you told Abi of your big decision?’ asked Stephen. He needed to hear her say it to someone else, to make it real.
‘And what “big decision” is this?’ Abi enquired.
‘That I am going to divorce Roberto as soon as possible,’ Rosanna answered as casually as she could.
‘That’s wonderful news! You must have had a good time in New York,’ said Abi meaningfully.
The telephone rang and Rosanna crossed the room to answer it in the study. When she returned ten minutes later, her face was pale.
Stephen was immediately by her side. ‘Bad news, darling?’
Rosanna nodded and sat down. ‘My sister, Carlotta, is very ill. She’s asked whether I would have her daughter, Ella, to stay for a while as she’s in no state to look after her.’
‘I see. How old is Ella?’
‘Fifteen. Luca is flying over with her in two days’ time.’
‘The poor thing,’ Stephen sighed.
‘Yes,’ said Rosanna, ‘and I haven’t seen her for years, since she was nine or ten. Now she’s almost a woman.’
‘Well, it’ll be company for you here if nothing else. How long is she staying?’ asked Stephen.
‘I don’t know. Luca didn’t say. Would you mind going to the airport to meet them?’
‘As I said, I’m at your service.’ Stephen tried to lighten the atmosphere with his chauffeur impression, but Rosanna ignored him, too lost in thoughts of her poor sister. Although Luca hadn’t elaborated on Carlotta’s condition, Rosanna knew the news must be bad.
‘Luca and I had hoped Carlotta was recovering, but, oh dear . . .’ Tears came to Rosanna’s eyes.
‘I am sorry, Rosanna, truly,’ said Abi. ‘What awful news to return to. I wish I could stay on and try to help in some way, but sadly, now my child-minding duties are over, I really have to get back to London. Publication is the week after next. You’re both invited to the launch party, of course, but I’ll understand if you can’t make it. Oh, and if Luca is still here, tell him he’s invited too,’ she added.
While Abi went to collect her holdall, Stephen sat, watching the grave expression on Rosanna’s face. He reached out a hand to her. ‘I’m sorry, darling. I’m not sure what I can say or do to help.’
‘From what Luca said, Carlotta wants Ella away from her so she doesn’t have to watch her mamma die. She doesn’t wish to see me either,’ Rosanna sighed. ‘I can’t help but feel hurt.’
‘Well, I’m sure she has her reasons. And she must trust you, if she’s sending her daughter into your care.’
‘Yes,’ Rosanna agreed, brightening a little, ‘I suppose she must.’
A few minutes later, they stood outside saying goodbye to Abi.
‘Bye, darling Rosanna. Thank you for everything. And if you need a chat, you know where I am. Oh, and give my love to Luca.’ She started the engine and, with a wave, pulled out of the drive.
Two days later, Rosanna spent the morning cleaning her house from top to bottom. It was what she always did when she was tense. Nico followed behind her, wielding a large feather duster.
‘Your cousin is coming to see us today, Nico. Her name is Ella. Can you s
ay Ella?’
‘Lala,’ Nico repeated, as Rosanna plumped the pillows in one of the guest bedrooms, then placed a vase of flowers on the window ledge.
‘Ella,’ repeated Rosanna.
‘Lala,’ trilled Nico.
‘There, everything is ready. Now, shall we go downstairs and have some lunch?’
Later in the afternoon, while Nico was resting, Stephen’s car pulled into the drive. Rosanna watched from the sitting room window as he turned off the engine, then waited as Luca got out and opened the rear passenger door. A young girl emerged from it. She was tall and slim as a willow, with a crown of thick, dark hair. As she walked with Luca towards the house, Rosanna ran to open the front door.
‘Luca, Ella . . . it’s so lovely to see you both.’ She hugged Luca, then kissed her niece on both cheeks. The girl looked at her aunt nervously. Her face was very pale, making her dark eyes seem even larger.
‘Come va, Aunt Rosanna? I thank you for having me to stay,’ Ella said in Italian, as she managed a weak smile.
The smile looked so familiar somehow, yet it wasn’t Carlotta she was reminded of. Dismissing the thought, Rosanna put a comforting arm round Ella’s shoulders and led her inside. ‘How was the journey?’
‘Oh, it was exciting. I’ve never been on a plane before. I like flying very much.’
‘You must be hungry. I have some scones and jam to keep you going until supper.’
‘Excuse me, but what are scones?’ Ella asked as Rosanna led her into the sitting room, Luca and Stephen bringing up the rear.
‘They’re little English cakes. I think you’ll like them. You sit down here with Luca and I’ll go and make some coffee and bring it through.’
‘Thank you, Aunt Rosanna.’
‘Just call me Rosanna. “Aunt” makes me sound very old.’ Rosanna smiled and left the room, wondering why the presence of her niece was unsettling her. Stephen followed her into the kitchen.
‘Ella seems like a lovely young girl, although she didn’t speak much in the car. I’m not sure how much English she understands. She looks a bit overwhelmed, though,’ he commented, taking a scone from the plate and biting into it.
‘Of course. She’s never been out of Naples, let alone across the sea to a strange country to stay with an aunt she hasn’t seen for years. I want to make her feel at home, to help her settle down. It’s the least I can do for Carlotta.’
The Italian Girl Page 35
