The Italian Girl (31 page)

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 happened 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.’

‘I won’t.
Ti amo, caro
.’ She put down the telephone and hurried to the front door.

‘Rosanna! Oh my God! You’re huge!’ Abi exclaimed as she kissed her friend, then hugged her warmly.

‘And you are even more beautiful than ever, and very thin!’ Rosanna laughed ruefully. ‘Please, come in.’

As Abi followed Rosanna inside the house, she let out a whistle. ‘Wow! This is rather grand. Lucky old you.’

‘I love it here, but we’re looking to buy something out of London once the baby comes. Here, let me take your coat.’

‘God, it’s cold out there today,’ said Abi as Rosanna led her downstairs into the kitchen.

‘I know,’ Rosanna agreed. ‘I spend my time in London looking like an advertisement for wool. I can’t believe my baby is to be born into a climate like this. In Naples, I doubt I wore any clothes at all until I was three. Would you like something to drink?’

‘A glass of wine would be lovely,’ said Abi. ‘I’ll get it. You stay there.’

‘Thank you. There’s a bottle in the fridge and I’ll have a Perrier.’

‘Sure.’ Abi walked across the room to organise the drinks. ‘There.’ She returned to the table and handed Rosanna the glass of fizzing water. ‘To us – together again.’

‘Would you mind if we stayed here for lunch?’ Rosanna queried. ‘I’m feeling so tired at the moment. I have some soup and fresh bread.’

‘Sounds good to me,’ said Abi. ‘You really are large, Rosanna. How much longer do you have?’

‘About a month.’

‘Can I ask you what’s it like? I mean, being pregnant?’

‘Strange, very strange,’ mused Rosanna. ‘It’s like you’re taken over by an alien. You’re not in control of your own body any longer. Or your emotions, for that matter.’

Abi studied her. ‘It’s hard to take in that you’re going to be a mother in a few weeks’ time.’

‘And it’s already changed me. You know how I used to hate cleaning, but yesterday I had to hoover and dust and iron, even though we have a housekeeper who comes in four mornings a week.’

‘I think that’s called the nesting instinct. Apparently, a lot of women get it just before the baby arrives. It could mean he or she might put in an appearance sooner than you think.’

‘No!’ Rosanna looked horrified. ‘It can’t . . . it mustn’t, not until Roberto is home.’

‘It’s difficult enough to imagine you being a mummy, but the thought of Roberto being a daddy, well . . .’ Abi rolled her eyes.

‘But, Abi, he’s different now, believe me. So many people have noticed. You would too if you met him again. He’s a changed man.’

‘I hope you’re right, Rosanna,’ Abi said seriously.

‘I’m sure of it, truly . . .’ Rosanna stopped suddenly and looked at her friend. ‘Abi, before I say anything else, I want to apologise for not telling you I was marrying Roberto. We decided it was best to say nothing until afterwards. We didn’t want to be hounded so soon by the media. Even my family didn’t know.’

‘Well, I admit to being hurt that I had to read the news in the papers. Were you worried I’d try to talk you out of it?’ Abi asked her bluntly.

‘No, because I knew whatever you said, or anyone else said for that matter, I would marry Roberto.’

‘You always had a strange connection with him, didn’t you?’

‘Yes. I did. We both believe it was destiny.’

Abi sipped her wine. ‘Did it upset you terribly when I had an affair with him? You didn’t show it at the time.’

‘Of course it did, Abi. Although after you told me about him dumping you, I did my best to dislike him. When we went to London together, I didn’t let Roberto near me at first. I was scared that if I did, he’d hurt me the way he hurt you and I would never have got over him the way you did. You don’t still care for him, do you?’

‘God, no. It was a quick fling, that was all. I was hurt, but now I understand – as I remember you saying at the time – that he was only a Luca substitute. I transferred all that unrequited passion onto Roberto, at least briefly. Hindsight’s a wonderful thing. How is Luca, by the way?’

‘He’s very well. He was here in May. He asked how you were.’

‘Did he?’ Abi smiled, but her eyes were filled with sadness. ‘That’s nice. Anyway, let’s not dwell too much on what’s passed. We’ve so many other things to talk about.’

‘Yes.’ Rosanna too was happy to move the conversation on. ‘I want to know everything you’ve been doing.’

‘Well, after you left Milan, I stayed at La Scala for another year. Then I had a long talk with Paolo and he told me what I already knew: that it was doubtful I’d ever graduate beyond the chorus. So I decided to quit and take a year out to travel. And I’ve had a wonderful time, Rosanna. I went to the Far East and, as you know, spent six months in Australia. Two weeks ago, I came home to London and now I’m staying with my parents in Fulham, trying to decide what I’m going to do with the rest of my life.’

‘Have you any ideas?’

‘No, not really. The trouble is, once you’ve become involved in the arts, any kind of nine-to-five routine seems impossibly dull.’ Abi sighed. ‘I really don’t know, although I have thought about writing, as a matter of fact.’

‘Oh, what sort of writing?’

‘Again, I’m not sure. Maybe some journalism; even a novel perhaps. I’ve always had a vivid imagination,’ she grinned, looking more like the Abi of old.

‘That sounds interesting, although I’m sorry to hear you’re no longer singing. I think you had a lovely voice.’

‘Yes, but not lovely enough, apparently. Anyway, it’s kind of you to say so and Milan was such fun that I don’t regret one second of it.’

‘Tell me’ – Rosanna took a sip of her Perrier – ‘was Paolo furious when I didn’t return to La Scala?’

‘Well, you know Paolo. If he was, then he didn’t show it to the company. All I can say is that I never heard your name mentioned again. Just out of interest, why didn’t you go back? I thought playing Mimi there was your dream.’

‘It was to do with Roberto. Please believe me when I say I had no choice,’ Rosanna answered abruptly. She didn’t want the conversation turning back to
that
painful subject.

‘I just wish you’d let me know what was happening. For weeks I had no idea where you were. And the press doorstepped our apartment when the news finally broke. Still’ – Abi shrugged good-naturedly – ‘it’s water under the bridge now, I suppose.’

‘Abi, forgive me,’ Rosanna said guiltily. ‘I know I was selfish, but . . . well, it was as if Roberto and I were living on another planet. I only had thoughts for him.’

Abi studied her friend. ‘It really is a grand passion between the two of you, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, it is,’ Rosanna replied simply.