The Italian's Christmas Miracle

‘So today your time’s all mine?’ he’d asked.

Had she been insane to have missed the note of irony?

‘When we met at the airport he wasn’t pleased to see me,’ she murmured now, to Drago. ‘Of course he wasn’t. He’d met her, and his heart and his thoughts were full of her. The last thing he wanted was me. He tried to dissuade me from going home with him.’

‘Did you go anyway?’ Drago asked.

‘Oh yes. I was that stupid. I tried to take him to bed, and believed him when he said he was too tired after the journey. I didn’t even get the message when he wouldn’t let me help him unpack.’

‘We can be frighteningly blind when we don’t realise that things have changed for ever,’ Drago said quietly. ‘And perhaps we fight against that realisation, because we’re fighting for our lives.’

‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘Yes.’

James had put his suitcases in the wardrobe, insisting that he would unpack them later. There had been no need for her to worry herself. But he’d kept out the bag where he kept his cameras.

‘I’m dying to see the pictures you’ve taken,’ she’d said, opening the side of one of them, ready to take out the little card that fitted into the computer.

It had been gone.

‘I’ve removed them all,’ he’d said quickly. ‘If anything happens to the cameras on the journey, at least I’ve got the cards.’

‘But you always keep the cameras with you. You’ve never bothered taking the cards out before.’

He’d shrugged.

It was obvious now that the cards had been full of pictures of Carlotta, and he’d made sure she wouldn’t see them.

Reaching into the bag, she’d found a small metal object, which she’d drawn out and studied curiously. It was a padlock, but unlike any padlock she’d ever seen, with tiny pictures on each side. One side had showed a heart, and the other side depicted two hands clasped. The shapes had been studded with tiny, gleaming stones that had looked as though they might be diamonds.

‘How charming,’ she’d said.

‘Yes, isn’t it?’ he’d said heartily. ‘I thought you’d like it.’

‘Is it for me?’

‘Of course.’

She’d felt for the key in the rucksack. Then she’d smiled at him, all fears removed.

‘I shall keep you padlocked in my heart,’ she’d told him. ‘See?’

But the key hadn’t fitted into the lock.

‘Sorry,’ he’d said. ‘It must be the wrong one. I’ll sort it out later.’ He’d kissed her cheek. ‘Now I’m going to collapse into bed. I’ll call you in the morning.’

That memory returned to her now, but she didn’t mention it to Drago, because she didn’t know what it meant. James had never given her the right key, and had taken back the padlock in the end.

‘When did this happen?’ Drago asked.

‘About September.’

He nodded. ‘Yes, I remember Carlotta suddenly started spending a lot of time away from home. She was gone for a whole week in September, then she was at home for a while. There were weekends, then another week in November. I found out afterwards that she’d spent that week in England.’

‘The tenth to the seventeenth?’ Alysa asked, dazed.

‘Was he away then?’

‘He said he was. He said he was going to drive north and get pictures of some wild scenery, immerse himself in the landscape, talk to nobody, even me. I tried to call him once but his phone was switched off. Then someone mentioned seeing him near his home in London. I said they were mistaken, but I guess they weren’t. He must have spent the week at home—with her.’

‘She was more shrewd than him,’ Drago said. ‘She never turned her mobile phone off. She used to call me every day and talk as though all was well with us.’ He drew a sudden, sharp breath.

‘Just like the other time, when you eloped,’ Alysa said, reading his mind.

‘Yes, just like then. It’s so easy to see it now.’

‘Did you never suspect anything?’

‘No. I trusted her totally. I went on being blind right up until the moment when she told me she was in love with someone else, and was leaving me for him. And do you want to hear something really funny? I didn’t believe her. I thought it wasn’t possible. Not my Carlotta, who’d been so close to me that she was like a second self. Only I’d been deluding myself. There was no second self. I’d been alone all the time and never known it.’

‘You felt that too?’ she asked quickly. ‘That’s it exactly—as though you’d imagined everything. And suddenly the whole world seems full of ghosts.’

‘And you feel as though you’re going mad,’ he confirmed. ‘In a strange way, my other self is you. I can say things to you that I could say to nobody else, and know that you’ll understand them.’

‘And even the words don’t always have to be said,’ she mused. ‘It’s a bit scary. To me, anyway.’

‘You think I’m not scared?’ he asked with grim humour. ‘Do I do that good a job of hiding it?’

‘Not really. Not from me.’

‘Exactly,’ he said in a quiet voice.

She had a fatalistic sense that she was being drawn onwards by powers too strong for her. She’d neither wanted nor sought this alliance, but there was no escaping it.

CHAPTER THREE

‘HOW did you find out?’ he asked.

‘I suppose the first hint was at Christmas, although I didn’t see it. We were going to spend the time together, and I got everything ready—tree, decorations, new dress.’ She gave him a faint smile of complicity, as if to say, ‘I do wear them sometimes’. He nodded, understanding.

‘Then he rang to say he wouldn’t be coming. A friend had suffered a tragedy and was suicidal. James didn’t want to leave him. It sounds a weak story now, but it might have been true. At any rate, I trusted him. I suppose you think that sounds stupid.’

Drago shook his head. ‘My own credulity strikes me as stupid, not yours. There’s no limit to what we can believe when we want to believe.’

‘Yes,’ she sighed. ‘And I wanted so much to believe.’

She still couldn’t bear to speak of her dead child, but unconsciously she laid a hand over her stomach. Drago, watching her, frowned slightly, and a sudden question came into his eyes.

‘How long was he away?’ he asked.

‘Until the first week in January. I guess he came here and spent time with Carlotta, but she couldn’t have seen much of him at Christmas.’

‘She was with us on Christmas Day, but the rest of the time she did a lot of coming and going. In Italy we also have another big occasion—Epiphany, January sixth, when we celebrate the coming of the three wise men. Carlotta was there for Epiphany—loving mother, loving wife—’ He broke off.

After a moment he resumed. ‘She played her part beautifully. When it was over Tina left with her grandmother to visit Carlotta’s sister and her family. Elena wanted her to go too, but Carlotta said she wanted to stay with me, that we needed some time together. I think that was one of the happiest moments of my life. I’d seen so little of her, and I was overjoyed that she wanted to be with me.

‘But as soon as we were alone she said she was leaving me for another man, and there was no point in discussing it. I’d never heard her sound so much like a lawyer.

‘I reminded her that she was a mother, but it was like talking to a brick wall. She knew what she wanted, and nothing else counted. I said I wouldn’t let her take my daughter. I thought that would make her stop and think. But I discovered that she’d never meant to take Tina.’

‘Would you have taken her back?’ Alysa asked curiously. ‘Knowing that she’d been unfaithful?’

‘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.’

‘Could you do that?’ Alysa asked, remembering what the young journalist had told her.

‘Who knows? I’d have had a good try. But he believed it, and that was all I needed. Are you shocked?’

‘No. I’ve done that too. Not the punch-up, but making the other side think you’re stronger than you are. It’s very useful. What about the rest of the press? Did you have to get tough with them?’

‘No need. The word got around, and after that nobody would challenge me.’ He regarded her satirically. ‘I dare say your reputation goes ahead of you as well?’

‘Well, I’m in line for a partnership.’ She too became self-mocking to say, ‘So there are some advantages to renouncing my femininity.’

‘Look, I shouldn’t have said that. Will you please forget it?’

‘Of course.’ But it had struck home, and Alysa knew she wasn’t going to forget any time soon.

‘What about you?’ Drago asked. ‘How did you hear?’

‘I got a call from Anthony Hoskins, James’s lawyer. He said he’d been contacted by a man who wouldn’t say who he was, but was asking about James.’

‘That was me. I found a letter from Hoskins in their apartment. I didn’t get anywhere talking to him, so I simply passed his name on to the undertakers.’

‘They called Hoskins too, and he called me again,’ Alysa remembered. ‘He said they wanted burial instructions. James had no family.’

‘What did you tell them to do about the burial?’

‘Nothing. I was in a dreadful state, so I said I didn’t know him and put the phone down. I never heard any more. I don’t know what happened to his body.’

‘I can tell you that. He’s near the Church of All Angels, the same place where Carlotta is buried. There’s going to be a ceremony there tomorrow.’

‘I didn’t know. I only discovered about today’s gathering by accident online. There was no mention of anything else. Do you go to the cemetery often?’

‘I take Tina to visit her mother, and sometimes I go to see her alone.’

‘You visit her, after what she did to you?’

‘I have to. Don’t ask me why, because I couldn’t tell you. I always look at his stone when I’m there. Then I can tell him how much I hate him. I enjoy that. I only wish I could picture him. When I went to identify Carlotta I made them show me him as well, because I wanted to see his face.’

‘What did you think of it?’ she asked, almost inaudibly.

‘Nothing. It was badly damaged, so I still don’t really know what Carlotta saw when she looked at him. But you can tell me. Would a woman think he was handsome?’

‘Yes,’ she said with a touch of defiance. Something about his tone was making her defensive. ‘He was very handsome. Do you want to see?’

He stared. ‘You’ve actually got his picture? You still take it everywhere?’

‘No, just here. After all, I came here to remember him. I wanted him to be with me. I suppose that sounds crazy?’

He shook his head. She felt in a compartment of her bag, and offered it to him.

To her surprise he hesitated before taking it, as though at the last minute he was unwilling to face the man his wife had loved. Then he took it quickly and studied it, his mouth twisted, so that his turbulent emotions were partly concealed.

‘Pretty boy,’ he said contemptuously.

‘I suppose he was,’ Alysa said. ‘I used to be proud to be seen with him, because all the other women envied me. They would try to get his attention and they never did because he always kept his eyes on me. That was part of his charm. He had beautiful manners—until the end, anyway. Maybe that’s why I didn’t see it coming.’

‘Tomorrow I’ll show you where he lies, a place where nobody is competing for him,’ Drago said with grim satisfaction. ‘But I dare say you don’t need a grave to tell him you hate him.’

‘I don’t hate him any more.’

‘You’re fortunate, then. I don’t believe you for a moment, but perhaps even the illusion is useful—until it collapses.’

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