Lucy Gordon - A Family For Keeps

'Look, there's Rosa, watching for us,' she cried, and waved eagerly.

The little girl waved back, beaming. Vincenzo opened the front door into a large hallway, with a flight of steps leading up.

'We live up there,' he said.

'Uncle Vincenzo!' called a child's voice from upstairs, and the next minute Rosa came flying down to envelop him in a fierce embrace.

Then she turned her attention to Julia, too. But immediately she stood back and became the perfect hostess, polite and formal.

'Buongiorno, Signora Baxter. I am very pleased to welcome you to this house and I hope you will have a very happy day with us.'

'Thank you, I know that I will,' Julia said, charmed. 'But please call me Julia.'

'Signora Julia.'

'No, just Julia.'

Rosa,cast a quick glance at Vincenzo, who shrugged and indicated Julia, saying, 'It's for our guest to decide.'

'My guest,' Rosa insisted. 'Because I invited you.'

'Yes, you did, and it was very kind of you,' Julia said, smiling.

The sun had come out. Her daughter was a charming child with generous, confiding ways, and she had reached out to her.

'Come with me.' Rosa seized her hand and drew her up the stairs, Vincenzo following.

The apartment was spacious and attractive. The main room contained furniture that looked antique and had probably come from the palazzo.

Rosa took her coat and ushered her to the sofa, then bustled busily away. Julia heard her speaking to someone in the next room, then Gemma emerged, wearing an outdoor coat, and bid everyone goodbye.

In the centre of the room was a low table on which stood several plates, bearing cakes and biscuits, some elegant glasses, and a bottle of Prosecco. Rosa reappeared and began to pour some of the sparkling white wine for Julia and Vincenzo and orange juice for herself.

'Please have a cake,' she said to Julia. 'Lunch will be in an hour.'

'Perhaps I'd better look after the final stages,' Vincenzo said. 'Why don't you show Julia your presents?'

Rosa promptly became a child again, bouncing to her feet and drawing Julia into the next room where there was a decorated tree, and signs of gifts opened with eager fingers. Rosa showed them off proudly.

'I should really have waited for you to come before I opened my presents.'

'Never mind,' Julia told her. 'When I was your age I always got down to business very early, usually about six o'clock on Christmas morning. In England children hang up their stockings at Christmas, not Epiphany.'

Rosa was wide-eyed. 'You don't have Befana?'

'I'm afraid I don't know what that is.'

'Befana is a kindly witch. They say the three kings invited her to visit the baby Jesus with them, but she was busy and didn't go. Later she changed her mind, but by then she'd missed the star and lost her way. So now she flies around on her broomstick and leaves presents in every house where there are children, because she doesn't know which house is the right one.'

'That sounds lovely. I'm glad you told me about her. Now I know who it must have been.'

'Must have been?' Rosa queried.

'This old woman who whirled around my head on her broomstick, and dropped something into my bag. She said she hadn't delivered everything to this house, and didn't have time to come back, so would I bring a few things for her?'

As she said this Julia produced her gifts. She had spent much time choosing them in an art bookshop, asking for 'Something for a very intelligent eight-year-old.' The sight of Rosa's face as she unwrapped everything told her that she'd chosen well.

'You remembered,' Rosa breathed.

'Yes, I remembered what we said the other day,' Julia agreed, 'but I also remembered myself when I was your age. These are the kind of things I loved to read.'

She fell silent, watching as Rosa examined one book that she'd chosen with particular care. It was almost entirely pictures, each one with a large caption that was repeated twice, once in Italian, once in English.

Rosa ran her fingers down one of the shiny pages, letting them rest on the English. She was frowning a little, but then she nodded and looked up, smiling.

Julia reached into her bag. 'And I brought this for Carlo. I didn't wrap it because I thought perhaps you should see it first and make sure it's all right.'

It was a magnetic fishing puzzle. There was a brightly coloured picture, showing jungle creatures against lush foliage. Each animal could be separated from the background by dint of dangling a magnet until it made contact.

Rosa let out a whoop. 'He'll love this.'

'I hope so. The shop said it was suitable for a two-year-old. It's supposed to develop his skills at-well, moving and co-ordination and that sort of thing. Oh, never mind that. It looks fun.'

'Oh, yes, it does. Carlo will love it.'

'I remembered how sad he seemed the other day, and I thought he needed cheering up.'

'You saw him at San Michele, didn't you? Uncle Vincenzo was right, I shouldn't have taken him. He thought he was going to see Mamma and Papa and when they weren't there he cried. But you see-' She hesitated.

'Please trust me,' Julia said. 'You can tell me anything. I won't repeat it.'

Rosa nodded. 'My mother died when I was the same age as Carlo, and I can't really remember her. And I hate that. It's like having a gap when there ought to be somebody. I didn't want that to happen to Carlo, but I got it wrong.

'He's too young to understand about people dying, you see. He only knows that there's something missing. So Uncle Vincenzo and I show him lots of extra love. Gemma does too, of course, but we're his family. And that's different.'

'Yes,' Julia said slowly. 'Family is different.'

'Do you have any family?'

'I-no.'

'None at all?'

'My parents are dead.'

'And you never got married?'

'Well, yes, I did, but he's dead too.'

'No little boys or girls?' When Julia didn't answer Rosa was immediately contrite. 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude. Please forgive me.'

'You weren't rude,' Julia said huskily. 'I did have a little girl but I-lost her several years ago. She would have been about your age now.'

Rosa didn't answer in words, but she got up from the floor where she was sitting and put her arms about Julia's neck. Julia hugged her back, overwhelmed by the feel of her child's warmth and her cheek pressed against her own.

'I'm sorry,' Rosa whispered.

She drew back and smiled directly into Julia's face. 'It would be nice to think she would have been like you,' Julia said.

A glint of mischief came into the child's face. 'You wouldn't like it really. Uncle Vincenzo says I'm a fiend.'

'Oh, does he? And are you?'

'Oh, yes. I'm the worst fiend who ever, ever lived.'

'Hmm. That sounds final enough. I guess you must be.'

As she spoke her eye was caught by a large photograph on the sideboard. It was a wedding picture, the bride in glorious white satin and lace. Vincenzo, looking younger, stood beside his sister.

Just behind it was another picture, showing the bride and groom with a little girl in front of them, and in another the bride stood alone, holding the child in her arms. They were regarding each other fondly.

Julia drew a sharp breath. For all her euphoric mood there would still be such moments to be faced. Rosa had been three when these pictures had been taken, and recognisable as the baby Julia had lost. Now she was nestling in the arms of another 'mother'. Unconsciously Julia tightened her own arms around her child, as though by doing so she could reclaim her.

'That was you,' she said softly.

'Oh, yes, when Mamma and Papa got married.'

Julia forced herself to let go. 'Do you have any more?'

'There's an album here,' Rosa said, diving down the side of the bookcase.

Vincenzo appeared in the doorway, saying, 'I'm just going to check on Carlo, see if he's awake yet.'