The Italian's Christmas Miracle

‘When you saw me across the water,’ he grated, ‘you knew who I was, didn’t you?’

‘Yes.’

‘How?’

‘I researched your wife on the internet, and you were part of what I found. Somehow I just had to find out about the woman James left me for.’

‘Yes, you had to find out. I felt the same, but for me there was no way to do it. I knew nothing about the man she went away with, except his name, and that led nowhere. You’ve been able to answer some of your questions, but can you begin to imagine what it’s like for me, never to be able to find a single answer?

‘In there—’ he stabbed his own forehead ‘—there’s a black hole that I’ve lived with for a year. It’s been like standing at the entrance to the pit of hell, but I can’t see what’s there.’

‘Do you think I don’t know what that’s like?’

‘No, you don’t know what it’s like,’ he raged. ‘Because the torment springs from ignorance, and you’ve managed to deal with your ignorance. But I’ve lived with mine for a year and it’s driving me crazy.’ He shuddered then seemed to control himself by force. ‘You’re the one person who can free me from that horror, and if you imagine that I’m going to let you go without—without—’

It was harsh, almost bullying, but beneath the surface she could feel the desperate anguish that possessed him, and her anger died. So he was illmannered—so what? When a man saw his last hope fading, he would do anything to prevent it.

Slowly his hold on her arm was released. ‘Please,’ he said. ‘Please! You and I must talk. You know that, don’t you? You know that we must?’

She’d fought his bullying, but his plea softened her.

‘Yes,’ she said slowly. ‘We must.’

Why should she flee? There was no safety anywhere, and in her heart she knew that this was why she had come here—to meet this man, and learn from him all the things she didn’t really want to know.

‘Come on, then.’

‘Only if you let me go. I’ve said I’ll come with you, and I’ll keep my word, but if you continue to try to push me the deal’s off.’

Reluctantly he released her, but he watched closely, as though ready to pounce if she made a wrong move. His nervous tension reached her as nothing else could have, softening her anger. Wasn’t his state as desperate as her own?

His limousine was waiting for them, chauffeur in the driving seat. But Tina and her grandmother were standing outside, watching for his return, the little girl bouncing as soon as she saw him.

‘I suggest you sit in the front,’ Drago told the woman, and she did as he wanted, leaving him to open the rear door for Alysa and join her with Tina.

‘The drive will take about an hour,’ Drago said. ‘We live just outside Florence. Where are you staying?’

She named a hotel in the centre of town, and he nodded. ‘I know it. I’ll drive you back there later tonight.’

She spent most of the journey looking out of the window as the land flattened out and Florence came into view. Once she glanced at Drago, but he didn’t see her. All his attention was for the little girl nestling contentedly against him, as though he was all her world. Which was true, Alysa thought. She wondered how he coped with the child’s heartbreaking resemblance to her dead mother.

At that moment Tina opened her eyes and smiled up at her father. His answering smile made Alysa look away. She had no right to see that unguarded look. It was for his child alone.

But it was the little girl’s adoring face that lingered in her mind, and instinctively she laid a hand over her stomach, thinking of what might have been.

Now they were driving through the city and out again, taking a country road leading to a village, then turning into a lane lined with poplar trees. After half a mile the house came into view, a huge, gracious three-storeyed villa stretching wide, surrounded by elegant grounds.

She knew little of Italian architecture, but even so she could tell that the building was several-hundred years old and in fine condition, as though Drago, the builder and restorer, had lavished his best gifts on his home.

The entrance to the house lay through an arched corridor where the walls were inlaid with mosaics, and the ceiling adorned with paintings. At first sight it was so impressive as to be almost forbidding, but as they went deeper inside the atmosphere became more homely, until finally they came to a large drawing-room where Alysa gasped.

Everywhere she saw Carlotta’s face. On one table stood a huge picture of her alone, while on the next table another picture showed her with Tina in her arms. The next one showed mother, father and child together. Various other pictures were dotted around the room, plus souvenirs, as Tina eagerly explained to her.

‘That was Mamma’s medal for winning a race at school,’ she said.

‘My wife was a fast runner,’ Drago explained. ‘We always used to say that she could have been an athlete if she hadn’t preferred to be a lawyer.’

‘She could run faster than anyone, couldn’t she, Poppa?’

Alysa saw Drago’s suddenly tense face, and realised how cruelly double-edged this remark would seem to him. But he gave his child a broad smile, saying, ‘That’s true. Mamma was better at everything,’ he said with a fair pretence of heartiness. ‘Now, we must entertain our guest.’

Tina set herself to do this, the perfect little hostess. If she hadn’t been functioning on automatic, Alysa knew she would have found her enchanting, for Tina was intelligent and gentle. When supper was served she conducted her guest to the table, and in her honour she spoke English, of which she had a good grasp.

‘How do you speak my language so well?’ Alysa asked, for something to say.

‘Mamma taught me. She was bi—bi—’

‘Bilingual,’ Drago supplied. ‘Some of her clients were English, as are some of mine. We’re all bilingual in this family. Tina learned both languages side by side.’

‘Do you speak Italian?’ Tina asked her.

‘Not really,’ Alysa said, concentrating on her food so that she didn’t have to meet the innocent eyes that were turned on her. ‘I learned a little when I was researching someone on the internet.’

‘An Italian someone?’

‘Er—yes.’

‘Was that someone there today?’

‘No.’

‘Are you going to see them tomorrow?’

Her hand tightened on her fork. ‘No, I’m not.’

‘Will you—?’

‘Tina,’ Drago broke in gently. ‘Don’t be nosey. It isn’t polite.’

‘Sorry,’ Tina said with an air of meekness that didn’t fool Alysa. Even hidden away inside herself as she was, Alysa could see the enchanting curiosity in the little girl’s eyes, and understood why Drago was determined to protect her at any cost to himself.

That’s how I would feel, she thought, if I had a—She blanked the rest out, and fixed her attention on drinking her coffee.

CHAPTER TWO

FOR the rest of the meal Alysa forced herself to act the part of the ideal guest, assuring herself that it was no different from concentrating on a client. You just had to focus, something she was good at.

She became sharply aware of tensions at the table, especially between Drago and his mother-in-law, whom he always addressed as ‘Elena’. For her part she looked at him as little as possible, and talked determinedly about Carlotta, who had, apparently, been a perfect daughter, mother and wife. Drago had spoken truly when he’d said his mother-in-law had no idea of the truth—or, if she had, she’d rejected it in favour of a more bearable explanation.

‘My daughter’s clients had no consideration, Signorina Dennis,’ she proclaimed. ‘If they had not insisted on her travelling to see them, instead of coming to her as they ought to have done, then she would have been alive now.’

‘Let’s leave that,’ Drago interrupted quickly. ‘I would rather Tina forgot those thoughts tonight.’

‘How can she forget them after where we have been today? And tomorrow we go to the cemetery…’

Alysa saw Tina’s lips press together, as though she were trying not to cry. She put out her hand and felt it instantly enclosed in a tiny one. The little girl gave her a shaky smile, which Alysa returned—equally shakily, she suspected.

This was proving harder than she had expected, and the most difficult part was still to come.

When supper was over Elena said, ‘You’re looking sleepy, little one, and we have another big day tomorrow. Time for bed.’

She held out her hand and Tina took it obediently, but she turned to her father to say, ‘Will you come up and kiss me goodnight, Poppa?’

‘Not tonight,’ her grandmother said at once. ‘Your father is busy.’

‘I’ll come up with you now,’ Drago said at once.

‘There’s no need,’ the woman assured him loftily. ‘I can take care of her, and you should attend to your guest.’

‘I’ll be perfectly all right here for a while,’ Alysa said. ‘You go with Tina.’

Drago threw her a look of gratitude, and followed the others out.

While he was gone Alysa looked around the room, going from one photograph to another, seeing Carlotta in every mood. One picture showed her with a dazzling smile, and Alysa lifted it, wondering if this was the smile James had seen and adored. Did her husband still look on this picture with love?

She heard a step, and the next moment he was in the room, his mouth twisting as he saw what she was holding.

‘Let’s go into my study,’ he said harshly. ‘Where I don’t have to look at her.’

His study was a total contrast—neat, austere, functional, with not a picture in sight. After the room they had just left, it was like walking from summer into winter, a feeling Alysa recognised.

The modern steel desk held several machines, one of which was a computer, and others which were unknown to her, but she was sure they were the latest in technology.

He poured them both a glass of wine and waved her to a chair, but then said nothing. She could sense his unease.

‘I’m sorry you were kept waiting,’ he said at last.

‘You were right to go. I get the feeling that Tina’s grandmother is a little possessive about her.’

‘More than a little,’ he said, grimacing. ‘I can’t blame her. She’s old and lonely. Her other daughter lives in Rome, with her husband and children, and she doesn’t see them very often. Carlotta was her favourite, and her death hit Elena very hard. I suspect that she’d like to move in here, but she can’t, because her husband is an invalid and needs her at home. So she makes up for it by descending on us whenever she can.’

‘How would you feel about her moving in?’

‘Appalled. I pity her, but I can’t get on with her. She keeps trying to give my housekeeper instructions that contradict mine. Ah, well, she’ll ease up after a while.’

‘Will she? Are you sure?’

He shot her a sharp look. ‘What do you mean by that?’

‘I mean the way she tried to stop you going upstairs to kiss Tina goodnight. Tina needs you, and Elena wanted to keep you away. Are you sure she isn’t trying to make a takeover bid?’

‘You mean—?’

‘Might she not try to take her away from you—for good?’

He stared. ‘Surely not? Even Elena wouldn’t—’ He broke off, evidently shocked. ‘My God!’

‘Maybe I’m being overly suspicious,’ Alysa said. ‘But during supper I noticed several times, when you spoke to Tina, Elena rushed to answer on her behalf. But Tina doesn’t need anyone to speak for her. She’s a very bright little girl.’

‘Yes, she is, isn’t she?’ he said, gratified. ‘I noticed Elena’s interruptions too, but I guess I didn’t read enough into them.’ He grimaced. ‘Now I think of it, Elena keeps telling me that a child needs a woman’s care. It just seemed a general remark, but maybe…’

He threw himself into a chair, frowning.

‘You saw it and I didn’t. Thank you.’

‘Don’t let her take Tina away from you.’

‘Not in a million years. But it’s hard for me to fight her when she’s so subtle. I manage well enough with everyone else, but with her the words won’t come. I’m so conscious that she’s Tina’s grandmother—plus the fact that she’s never liked me.’

‘Why?’

‘I’m not good enough,’ he said wryly. ‘Her family have some vaguely aristocratic connections, and she always wanted Carlotta to marry a title. My father owned a builder’s yard—a very prosperous one, but he was definitely a working man. So was I. So am I, still.’

‘But your name—di Luca—isn’t that aristocratic?’

‘Not a bit. It just means “son of Luca”. It was started by my great-grandfather, who seems to have thought it would take him up in the world. It didn’t, of course. They say his neighbours roared with laughter. What took us up in the world was my father working night and day to build the business into a success, until he ended in an early grave.

‘I took over and built it up even more, until it was making money fast, but in Elena’s eyes I was still a jumped-up nobody, aspiring to a woman who was socially far above him.’

‘It sounds pure nineteenth-century.’

‘True. It comes from another age, but so does Elena. She actually found a man with a title and tried to get Carlotta to marry him. When that didn’t work, she told me that Carlotta was engaged to the other man. I didn’t believe her and told her so. She was furious.’

‘So you really had to fight for Carlotta?’

‘There was never any doubt about the outcome. As soon as I saw her, I knew she was mine.’

‘Was’, not ‘would be’, Alysa noted.

‘How did you meet?’ she asked.

‘In a courtroom. She’d just qualified as a lawyer and it was her first case. I was a witness, and when she questioned me I kept “misunderstanding” the questions, so that I could keep her there as long as possible. Afterwards I waited for her outside. She was expecting me. We both knew.’

‘Love at first sight?’

‘Yes. It knocked me sideways. She was beautiful, funny, glowing—everything I wanted but hadn’t known that I wanted. There had been women before, but they meant nothing beside her. I knew that at once. She knew as well. So when Elena opposed us it just drove us into an elopement.’

‘Good for you!’

‘Elena has never really forgiven me. It was actually Carlotta’s idea, but she won’t believe that. She never really understood her own daughter—how adventurous Carlotta was, how determined to do things her own way—’

He stopped. He’d gone suddenly pale.

‘How did you manage the elopement?’ Alysa asked, to break the silence.

‘I’d bought a little villa in the mountains. We escaped there, married in the local church and spent two weeks without seeing another soul. Then we went home and told Elena we were married.’

‘Hadn’t she suspected anything?’

‘She’d thought Carlotta was on a legal course. To stop her getting suspicious, Carlotta called her every night, using her mobile phone, and talked for a long time.’

So Carlotta had been clever at deception, Alysa thought. She hadn’t only been able to think up a lie, she’d been able to elaborate it night after night, a feat which had taken some concentration. The first hints had been there years ago. In his happiness Drago hadn’t understood. She wondered if he understood now.

He’d turned his back on her to stare out of the window into the darkness.

Images were beginning to flicker through Alysa’s brain. She could see the honeymooners, gloriously isolated in their mountain retreat. There was Drago as he must have been then: younger, shining with love, missing all the danger signals.

Suddenly he turned back and made a swift movement to his desk, unlocking one of the drawers and hauling out a large book, which he thrust almost violently towards her. Then he resumed his stance at the window.

It was a photo album, filled with large coloured pictures, showing a wedding at a tiny church. There was the young bride and groom, emerging from the porch hand in hand, laughing with joy because they had secured their happiness for ever.

Carlotta was dazzling. Alysa could easily believe that Drago had fallen for her in the first moment. And James? Had he too been lost in the first moment?

She closed the book and clasped it to her, arms crossed, rocking back and forth, trying to quell the storm within. She’d coped with this—defeated it, survived it. There was no way she would let it beat her now.

She felt Drago’s hands on her shoulders.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said heavily. ‘I shouldn’t have done that.’

‘Why not?’ she said, raising her head. ‘I’m over it all now.’

‘You don’t get over it,’ he said softly. She turned away, but he shook her gently. ‘Look at me.’

Reluctantly she did so, and he brushed his fingertips over her cheeks.

‘It was thoughtless of me to show you this and make you cry.’

‘I’m not crying,’ she said firmly. ‘I never cry.’

‘You say that as if you were proud of it.’

‘Why not? I’m getting on with my life, not living in the past. It’s different for you because you have Tina, and the home you shared with your wife. You can’t escape the past, but I can. And I have.’

He moved away from her.

‘Maybe you have,’ he agreed. ‘But are you sure you took the best route out of it?’

‘What the devil do you mean?’

‘“Devil” is right,’ he said with grim humour. ‘I think it must have been the devil who told you to survive by pretending that you weren’t a woman at all.’

‘What?’

‘You crop your hair close, dress like a man—’ She sprang to her feet and confronted him.

‘And you call Elena nineteenth-century! You may not have heard of it, but women have been wearing trousers for years.’

‘Sure, but you’re not trying to assert your independence, you’re trying to turn yourself into a neutered creature without a woman’s heart or a woman’s feelings.’

‘How dare you?’ She began to pace the room, back and forth, clenching her fists.

‘Maybe it’s the only way you can cope,’ Drago said. ‘We all have to find our own way. But have you ever wondered if you’re damaging yourself inside?’

‘You couldn’t be more wrong. I cope by self-control, because that’s what works for me. Without it I might have cracked up, and I wouldn’t let that happen. So I don’t cry. So what? Do you cry?’

‘Not as much as I used to,’ he said quietly.

The answer stopped her in her tracks. It was the last thing she’d expected him to say.

‘The emotions and urges are there for men as well as women,’ he added.

‘Maybe you can afford to give in to them,’ she snapped. ‘I can’t. This is how I manage, and it works fine. I’m over it, it’s finished, past, done with.’

‘Do you know how often you say that?’ he demanded, becoming angry in his turn. ‘Just a little too often.’

‘Meaning?’

‘Meaning that I think you’re trying to convince yourself—say it enough and you might start to believe it.’

‘I say it because it’s true.’

‘Then what were you doing at the waterfall today? Don’t try to fool me as you fool yourself. If it was really finished, you’d never have come here.’

‘All right, I wanted to tie up a few loose ends. Maybe I needed to find out the last details, just to close the book finally. It troubles me a little, but it doesn’t dominate me, and it hasn’t destroyed me because I won’t let it.’

But she heard the shrill edge to her own voice, and knew that she was merely confirming his suspicion. He was actually regarding her with pity, and that was intolerable.

‘Stop pacing like that,’ he said, taking hold of her with surprisingly gentle hands. ‘You’ll fall over something and hurt yourself.’

She stood, breathing hard, trying to regain her self-control. She wanted to push him away, but the strength seemed to have drained out of her. Besides, there was something comforting about the hands that held her: big, powerful hands that could lift a stone or console a child.

‘Sit down,’ he said quietly, urging her back to the chair. ‘You’re shaking.’

After a few deep breaths she said, ‘Aren’t we forgetting why I’m here? You wanted me to fill in the gaps in your knowledge, and I’ll do it, but my feelings are none of your business. Off-limits. Do you understand?’

He nodded. ‘Of course.’ He managed a faint smile. ‘I told you that Elena thinks I’m a mannerless oaf, without subtlety or finesse, going through life like a steamroller. I dare say by now you agree with her.’

She shrugged. ‘Not really. You said yourself, we all find our own way of coping. Yours is different to mine, but to hell with me! To hell with the rest of the world. If it works for you…’

‘My way no more works for me than yours works for you,’ he said quietly. ‘But with your help I might find a little peace of mind. I’m afraid my manners deserted me earlier today.’

‘You’re referring to the way you kidnapped me?’

‘I wouldn’t exactly say— Yes, I suppose I did. I apologise.’

‘Now that I’m here,’ she said wryly.

‘Yes, it’s easy to apologise when I’ve got my own way,’ he agreed with a touch of ruefulness. ‘That’s how I am. Too late to change now. And if you can tell me anything…’

‘Are you sure you want to know? Learning the details doesn’t make it any easier. If anything it hurts more.’

He nodded as if he’d already thought of this.

‘Even so, I’ve got to pursue it,’ he said. ‘You of all people should understand that.’

‘You really know nothing about James?’

‘Carlotta rented a small apartment in Florence, but it was in her name with no mention of him on the paperwork. I went over there and found enough to tell me that her lover was called James Franklin, but that was all.’

‘No other address?’

‘One in London, in Dalkirk Street, but he’d left it shortly before.’

‘Yes, that was where he lived when I knew him. Did you discover when the Florence apartment was rented?’

‘September.’

‘So soon after they met,’ she murmured.

‘That was my thought too. Their affair must have started almost at once, and the first thing she did was hunt for a love nest. I found it looking oddly bare—very little personal stuff, almost like a hotel room. I suppose they spent all their time in bed.’

‘Yes,’ she agreed huskily. ‘I suppose so. But surely he must have brought some things with him from England?’

‘It’s a very tiny apartment. They were probably looking for something larger.’

‘And his things would be stored in England until he was ready to send for them,’ Alysa said. ‘Only he never had the chance. I wonder what became of them?’ She gave a sigh. ‘Oh well!’

‘I couldn’t find anything on the internet about him. What did he do for a living?’

‘Nothing for the last few months. He used to work in a big city institution—that’s how we met. I’m an accountant and they hired me. He hated the job—being regimented, he called it. Then he came into some money and he said he was going to fulfil his real ambition to be a photographer. He left the job, bought lots of expensive equipment and started taking pictures everywhere, including several trips abroad. He asked me to go with him, and I promised I would when I could get some time off.

‘But that never seemed to happen. I should have gone with him to Florence, but at the last minute I couldn’t get away. I had several new clients.’

‘And they mattered more than your lover?’ Drago asked curiously.

‘That’s what he said. He said I couldn’t even spare him a few days. But I’d worked so hard to get where I was—I knew he didn’t really understand, but I never imagined—I thought James and I were rock-solid, you see.’

He didn’t reply, and his very silence had a tactful quality that was painful.

‘I should have gone with him,’ she said at last. ‘Maybe no love is as solid as that. So he came to Florence without me, and that’s probably when he met Carlotta.’

The picture show had started again in her head, and she watched James’s return to England, herself meeting him at the airport although he’d told her there was no need.