LUCY GORDON - The Italian’s Miracle Family

‘It would never have been the same between us,’ he said sombrely. ‘But, for Tina’s sake, I would have tried.’

After that there was silence for a while. Drago got up and poured a couple more glasses of wine, handed her one and sat down again.

‘I began to realise that I’d never really known her,’ he said. ‘She seemed not to understand what she was doing to other people, or care. She kept saying, “We’ve had a lovely Epiphany. Tina will have that to remember”.’

Alysa winced. ‘She really thought that would be enough?’

‘She seemed to. She said she’d come and see Tina sometimes, as though that settled it. Then she left. When Tina came home I told her that Mamma was away on business, because I still hoped she’d come back, and Tina need never know the truth. But then Carlotta died, and how could I tell her then?’

‘You couldn’t, of course. But can you keep it a secret for ever? Suppose she hears it from someone else?’

‘I know. Maybe one day, when she’s old enough to cope, but not yet.’

‘I can’t understand why she didn’t want her daughter.’

‘Neither can I. Carlotta kept saying we had to be realistic-Why, what’s the matter?’

Alysa had turned and stared at him. ‘She actually used that word- realistic ?’

‘Yes, why?’

‘Because James used it too,’ she said, beginning to laugh mirthlessly. ‘When he came home in January he called me to meet him at a restaurant. He kept it short, just said he’d met someone else. He said it hadn’t been working out for us, and we had to be “realistic”. Then he called for the bill, we said goodbye and I never saw him again.’

‘Like a guillotine descending,’ Drago said slowly.

‘Yes, that describes it perfectly,’ she said, much struck. ‘And when the blade had descended it stayed there, so that I couldn’t look back beyond it. I knew the past had happened, but suddenly I couldn’t see it any more. And when I finally did, it looked different.’

‘Oh yes,’ he murmured. ‘It’s exactly like that. And you never heard from him? Not a postcard or a phone call to see if you were all right?’

‘His lawyer called me to say James had left some things with me and wanted them back. I packed them up in a box and someone from the lawyer’s office collected them.’

Drago said something violent in a language she didn’t understand.

‘What does that mean?’ she asked. ‘It didn’t sound like Italian.’

‘It’s Tuscan dialect, and I won’t offend your ears by translating.’

‘Sounds like some of the things I said in those days.’

‘You told Tina that you’d learned a little Italian by researching online. Was that-?’

‘Yes. When I was trying to find out about Carlotta I discovered a lot of stuff in Italian newspapers. The computer translated it, but very badly, so I got an Italian dictionary. I worked on it night after night and I suppose I went a bit mad.’ She gave a short, harsh laugh, turning to the mirror on the wall. ‘Look at me.’

In the dim light the mirror made her eyes seem larger than ever in her delicate face. They were burning and haunted.

‘Those eyes belong behind bars,’ she murmured.

‘Stop that!’ His voice crashed into her brooding thoughts, making her jump. ‘Stop that right now!’ he commanded. ‘Don’t put yourself down. It’s the way to hell.’

‘It’s a bit late for that.’

‘All the more need to be strong.’

‘Why?’ she shouted. ‘Sometimes I’m tired of being strong. I’ve spent the last year working at that-hiding my feelings, never letting anyone suspect.’

‘And what’s inside you now?’

‘Nothing, but that’s fine. I can cope with “nothing”. Don’t dare to judge me. What do you think you know about me?’

‘I know you’re a steely accountant, but as a woman you’re settling for a narrow life because you think you’ll be safe. But you won’t. It’s just another kind of hell.’

‘Look, I came here to help you-’

‘But maybe you need my help too.’

‘I don’t.’

Instead of arguing, he shrugged and said, ‘Let’s get some coffee.’

He led her into the kitchen, a shining temple to the latest hi-tech cooking equipment, incongruous against the rest of the house. In a moment he had the coffee perking, and brought some spicy rolls out of the cupboard. He’d made the right move. Alysa felt herself growing calmer as she ate and drank.

‘Thank you,’ she said as he refilled her cup. ‘I don’t normally lose my temper.’

‘Tonight’s been hard on you,’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t really have put you through it, but I’m clutching at straws.’

‘We all do what we must to survive. I was never going to let this get the better of me.’

‘But you’ve paid a price.’

‘Yes, all right, I have. There’s always a price to be paid, but anything’s better than giving in.’

‘You’re a very strong person. I admire that. I’ve often felt it was getting the better of me.’

‘Did you mean what you said about crying?’ she asked.

‘Yes,’ he said quietly. ‘I meant it. What about you? You said you never cried.’

‘I can’t. And, if I could, I wouldn’t.’

‘How did you get to be so strong?’

‘Through my mother. When I was fifteen my father walked out on us, and it finished her. She never recovered. I can still hear her sobbing, night after night. Three years later she died of a heart attack. She had no strength to fight it.’

‘Poor soul.’

‘Yes, and you know why she went under? Because my father was all she had. She was an actress before she met him-a good one, people said. But she had to choose, and she chose him. She wouldn’t take jobs that took her away from him, and in the end the offers stopped coming. She became a barmaid, a shop assistant, any number of dead-end jobs. He left her with nothing. That’s where I’m different. When I lost James, I didn’t lose everything.’

He gave her a quick look and seemed about to speak, but thought better of it and poured some more coffee.

‘Did your father stay in touch?’ he asked at last.

‘He contacted me after she died, said he thought we could repair the past. I told him to get out of my sight and never come back. And he did. I’ll never forgive him for what he did to my mother, and I’ll never let myself go under as she did.’

He nodded slowly. ‘And you have no other family?’

‘My mother has a couple of sisters, but they more or less deserted her when she hit the bad times. I suppose they couldn’t cope with her depression, and perhaps I ought to be understanding, but they weren’t there when she needed them.’

‘Maybe it would have made no difference,’ he mused. ‘Other people can’t always help, unless it’s exactly the right person. And you may never meet that person.’

‘You sound as though you had a lot of experience with the wrong ones.’

‘One or two. It wasn’t their fault. They tried to sympathise over her death, not knowing that the real grief lay elsewhere.’

‘How did you hear that Carlotta was dead?’

‘From the press. Somebody recognised her body and called me. I don’t recall exactly what I said, but I think I recited the line about her being away to visit clients. If I did, I was on automatic. Then there were more calls, as the press began to sniff something out.’

‘How ghastly!’ she said in genuine sympathy.

‘I think I went off my head for a while. I was in a rage-I can be really unpleasant.’ He gave a faint, self-mocking smile. ‘Though you might not believe that.’

‘I’ll try,’ she said lightly. ‘Did you actually hit anyone?’

‘There was one moment with an editor-but he gave as good as he got. Then I told him if he slandered my wife I’d have his paper closed down.’