The Italian’s Baby

CHAPTER ELEVEN

‘YES,’ she said. ‘You ought to know. Luca, have you ever been back to Carenna?’

‘No,’ he said after a moment.

‘Me neither, until recently. I went a few weeks ago, and I found out something else my father lied about.’

She stopped again. Suddenly the next part seemed momentous, and she wondered if she had been wise to start.

‘Go on,’ he said.

‘I’d always thought she died without being baptised, without a name. Dad never told me otherwise.’

‘You mean-?’

‘She’s there, in the churchyard. She was baptised by the hospital chaplain.’

‘But how could you not have known?’

‘They took her away to the incubator as soon as she was born, while I stayed behind for the nurses to finish tending to me. The chaplain was already in the baby unit, seeing another child. They thought our little girl might only have a few minutes, so he baptised her there and then, in case he wasn’t in time.’

‘And they never told anybody?’

‘Yes, they told Dad. I suppose they assumed he’d tell me, but he never did. But she was buried in consecrated ground.

‘The priest died last year, but I spoke to the new one, and it’s all there in the records. Apparently the priest held a little funeral, and told Dad when it was going to be. He couldn’t tell me, because my father kept him away, and he didn’t know where you were. So when our daughter was buried-’ a tremor shook her ‘-none of her family were there.’

‘Not even your father?’

‘He wanted to pretend that she never existed, and he wanted me to forget about her. So he tried to blot her out, and blot you out. He even told the priest her name was Solway.’

‘You mean-?’

‘That’s the name on her grave,’ she said with rising anger. ‘Rebecca Solway. But she’s there, Luca. She didn’t vanish into the void. He didn’t manage to obliterate her, not completely.’

Luca rose violently and paced the room as though sitting still was suddenly intolerable. He began to shake his head like a beast in pain, and she thought she had never seen a man’s face look so ravaged.

At last he came to a halt, and without warning swung his fist into the wall. It landed with a thunderous shock, and immediately he did it again, and then again. It was as well that the old cottage was made of solid stone or it could never have withstood the impact of his rage and agony.

‘Oh, God!’ he kept saying. ‘Dear God! Dear God!’

Torn with pity for him, she put her arms around his body. He didn’t stop thumping the wall, but his free hand grasped her so tightly that he almost crushed her.

‘Luca-Luca, please…’

She wasn’t sure that he heard her. He seemed lost in a haze of misery, where only the rhythmic thumping made sense.

At last he was too tired to go on, and leaned his head against the stone, shaking with distress. Rebecca rested her own head against his back, weeping for him. She could endure her own pain, but his pain tore her apart.

He turned far enough to draw her against his chest in a convulsive grip.

‘Hold on to me,’ he said hoarsely, ‘or I shall go mad. Hold me, Becky, hold me.’

He almost fell against her. All his massive physical strength seemed to have drained out of him, and there was only hers left to save him.

She did as he asked and held him. The path he was travelling was one she herself had walked only a short time before, and she resolved that he would not walk it alone, as she had done.

Leaning on her, he got back to the chair and almost fell into it. His eyes were vacant, as though fixed on some inner landscape where there was only desolation.

His right hand was red and raw where the wall had torn it, and she gently took hold of it, sensing how even the lightest touch made him wince. She began to dab it with water, her eyes blurred with tears at what he had done to himself in his torment.

She dropped to one knee beside him so that she could clean the bleeding wound. He stared at it, as though wondering how it had happened.

‘What did it look like?’ he asked at last.

‘What, darling?’ The word slipped out naturally.

‘Her grave, what was it like?’

‘Just a little grave, very plain and small, with the name and the date she was born and died.’

‘And nobody of her own was there at her funeral,’ Luca murmured. This fact in particular seemed to trouble him. ‘Poor little thing. Laid away in darkness, all alone.’

He shook his head as though trying to get free of something.

‘I was glad when I found out,’ Rebecca said. ‘It’s better than her having no baptism and no proper burial. I thought you’d be glad too.’

‘I am glad about that,’ he said quickly. ‘But we should have been told. If I’d known, I would have gone back there to see her, often. She wouldn’t have been alone.’

It was as if a light had shone through her mind, illuminating him as never before. Luca was an Italian, with the Italian’s attitude to death. Like almost everything else in Italy, it was a family matter. A child’s grave was visited regularly, with flowers and tokens on birthdays, because even in death that child was a member of the family. To him it was an outrage that his daughter had lain unvisited for fifteen years.

‘She’s still there, waiting for us,’ she said. ‘Perhaps it’s time her parents visited her together.’

He couldn’t speak. Dumbly he nodded.

‘But you should see a doctor about your hand first.’

He made an impatient movement. ‘It’s nothing.’

‘I’ve only got water to clean it with, and I’m afraid it will get infected. Or you may have broken something.’

‘Nonsense, I’m never hurt.’

‘Oh, yes, you are,’ she said softly. ‘Now, come and lie down.’

After a moment he nodded and let her lead him to his bed. His hand was clearly painful and he had to accept her help to undress down to vest and shorts, but when she mentioned it he said gruffly, ‘It’ll be all right tomorrow.’

By the next day it was swollen and still hurting him, but he wouldn’t consider ‘wasting time’ with a doctor. His manner was feverish, as though nothing mattered but getting to Carenna as fast as possible.

‘We can’t go in that van,’ Rebecca observed. ‘Where’s your car?’

‘Garaged in the village, with the man who hired me the van.’

‘You’ll have to show me how to drive it.’

‘I’ll drive it.’

But he had to give up after the first mile, and she drove the clanking vehicle the rest of the way.

‘Turn left, down there,’ he said almost as soon as they were in the village. ‘Becky, I said down there.’

‘Later,’ she said, bringing the van to a noisy halt outside the doctor’s surgery. ‘First we go in here.’

‘I told you I’m all right,’ he groaned.

‘And I’m telling you that you’re not.’

‘Becky, I don’t want-’

She lost her temper.

‘Did I ask you what you want? Luca, it’s very simple. I’m the only person who can drive at the moment, and I’m going nowhere until you’ve been to the doctor.’

‘That’s blackmail.’

‘Yes, it is. So what?’

‘You’re just being stupid.’

‘Fine, then the doctor can tell me so.’

But the doctor said no such thing. He was an old man with modern ideas, who’d equipped his surgery with a lot of good equipment, including a small X-ray machine. It took only a short time to establish that Luca had cracked two bones and smashed a third.

‘It’s good that you came straight to me, signore,’ said the doctor as he set the hand in plaster. ‘Otherwise your hand would have been crippled. You were very wise.’ He regarded them knowingly. ‘Or maybe you are just fortunate in your wife?’

‘Yes,’ Luca said.

‘Here are some painkillers, and two of these other pills will give you a good night. I hope you weren’t planning anything strenuous for the rest of today.’

‘No,’ Rebecca said quickly. ‘We were thinking of a journey, but now we’ve put it off until tomorrow.’

Luca simply nodded. He was looking worn and ill, and she sensed that this was only partly due to his injured hand. It was as though all the fight had gone out of him. He even agreed to stay quietly in the doctor’s waiting room while she returned the van and collected the car.

It was dusk as she drew up at the cottage, and she immediately set about getting the place warm and making him comfortable. His appetite was poor but he managed to eat some pasta with his left hand.

‘Go to bed now,’ she said gently. ‘And I think you should take the proper bed, and I’ll have the mattress.’

But he shook his head firmly and she made no further protest. He accepted her help undressing, then let her usher him into the rough bed like a mother with an exhausted child. He touched her hand briefly.

‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘For everything.’

She squeezed his hand, kissed him briefly and hurried out.

They were on the road early next morning, eating up the miles to Carenna in the silkily gliding car.

For this journey they had abandoned the jeans and sweaters in which they had been living, becoming sober and conventional again. In a severe, well-cut suit, Luca might have been the man she’d met again months ago, but he was not that man. His face had changed. It was thinner and almost haggard, as though he’d aged overnight.

At the start of the journey she touched his hand, and he briefly smiled at her, but then seemed to withdraw into a place inside himself. She could only guess at the suffering that was there.

They reached Carenna in the early afternoon and drove straight to the church. The town had grown since they were last there together, the streets were more crowded, and once they were caught in a traffic jam.

‘Do you remember the hospital?’ she asked, indicating the building through the window.

‘Yes, I remember.’

They were moving again, turning a corner so that he could see the builders working at the rear. He followed it with his eyes until the building was out of sight.

In another few minutes they had reached the little church, where they had once planned to be married. As she parked the car Rebecca glanced at Luca, wondering what he was thinking and feeling. But his set face showed no reaction and she was slightly disappointed. Until then she had felt that this was something they were doing together. Now she began to feel that he was further away than she had suspected, in a place where she was not invited to follow.

‘Is she here?’ Luca asked as they entered the churchyard. ‘Can you show me where she lies?’

‘Yes, come with me.’

The little grave was in a far corner and they had to pick their way carefully because the graveyard was densely crowded. At last they reached the little enclosed section where several children lay together.

‘Why are they here and not with their families?’ Luca wanted to know.

But then his eyes fell on the sign, Gli Orfani. Orphans. She saw him flinch.

At the end of the line they found the tiny grave bearing the legend ‘Rebecca Solway’, and the date of her birth and death. The stone was no longer quite straight, and although the grass had been cut back neatly the grave still looked as though it was struggling not to vanish among the others.

Luca dropped to one knee, leaning forward and peering at the words. Rebecca knelt beside him and saw how he reached out one big hand and laid it flat on the grass.

‘She must have been so tiny,’ he said in a choking voice.

‘Yes, she was. You could have held her in that hand.’

He closed his eyes. She could feel him trembling and her heart ached for him. She waited for him to turn to her.

The moment stretched on and on. He did not move and his eyes stayed fixed on the stone. At last she got up and walked away.

The little church was empty as she pushed the door open. Everything was quiet and her footsteps sounded very loud. It was disappointing that Father Valetti wasn’t here. She had liked the young priest with his round, friendly face and understanding eyes.

She strolled out again and saw Luca coming towards her.

‘Thank you for leaving me alone with her,’ he said briefly. ‘Shall I wait here while you go back?’

‘Yes, I…’

She stopped, realising that someone was hailing her from near the gate.

‘It’s him,’ she said, pleased. ‘It’s Father Valetti.’

The father advanced, a big smile on his plump, youthful face, recognising her.

‘I’m sorry I wasn’t here,’ he said. ‘I’ve been at the bank. I’m afraid I’m not very good at finance.’ He shook Rebecca’s hand. ‘I’m so glad you came back.’

‘I always meant to, when the time was right. Father Valetti, this is Luca Montese.’

‘The little girl’s papa,’ said the priest immediately, shaking Luca’s hand. ‘Have you been to see her?’

Luca nodded.

‘And she does not seem quite real,’ the father said. ‘You think, what does this patch of earth have to do with my child? Especially after so long.’

Luca looked at him with sudden interest.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘That was exactly how it felt. It has been so long-I didn’t know she was here.’

‘But one day you were bound to come,’ said Father Valetti gently. ‘And she has waited for you.’

‘I’m grateful to you for taking care of her. May I look round your church?’

‘Of course. It will be my pleasure to show you.’

Rebecca slipped away to have a few moments alone with her daughter. When she returned the two men were deep in conversation, and she knew that Luca had discovered what she had discovered herself, that this was a good man, and easy to talk to.

He can talk to him, she thought sadly. But not me.

Luca smiled as he saw her, but he seemed abstracted, as though some thought was occupying him.

‘What did you mean about the bank?’ he asked the priest. ‘Is the church in financial trouble?’

‘We will be if I can’t pay off the two-million loan I’ve just arranged,’ Father Valetti said, with a weak attempt at humour.

‘Two million euro?’ Luca echoed. ‘Is the church falling down?’

‘Not the church. The money is for the new baby unit that we’re building at the hospital. Costs are spiralling out of control, and without the loan we might have had to give up the work. It was my decision to sponsor that unit but, as I say, I have no gift for finance.’ He grimaced. ‘The archbishop is not pleased with me.’

‘But you managed it?’ Luca asked.

‘On conditions. The bank wants guarantors, so now I must go around local businessmen asking each of them to guarantee part of the loan. And they all know what I want, and will run when I approach.’

‘Then don’t approach them,’ Luca said.

‘I don’t understand.’

‘I’ll take care of it.’

‘You mean you will guarantee the loan?’

‘No, I mean you don’t need a loan. I’ll give you the money.’

Father Valetti looked doubtful, and Luca gave him a wry smile. ‘It’s all right, I have the money. I won’t let you down. Will it be enough, or will the unit need more?’

‘You can afford more?’ the priest asked, wide-eyed.

Luca took out his cellphone and dialled Sonia.

‘How long will it take to transfer three million euros?’ he asked. ‘Can you do it in twenty-four hours? Good. Then send it to this destination.’

He read out from a piece of paper that the priest hastily scribbled for him. When he hung up he spoke in a hard voice.

‘I’d like the baby unit named after my daughter.’

‘Of course.’

‘Rebecca Montese. Not Solway.’

‘It shall be done. It is most generous-’

Luca shook his head to silence his thanks. ‘Let me know if you need more,’ he said. He handed the priest a card. ‘This is my headquarters in Rome. That number will get you through to my assistant, and she will call me, any time. Are you ready to go?’ This was to Rebecca.

On the way home she struggled with her thoughts. She wanted to thank him, but was checked by the feeling that she had no right to. In a strange way his action had had nothing to do with her. Luca had reclaimed his daughter, but he’d done so alone, in a way that excluded her.

Now she understood how much hope she had invested in this moment. She had never realised that it could strand her in limbo.

Why? she asked herself as they headed home in the gathering dusk. Why had it happened like this? She had thought they were travelling a road that would bring them together, but she’d been deluding herself. Luca had turned off abruptly onto another road where all could be made well with money. He was, after all, a businessman, and she had been foolish to forget it.

What price one daughter? Three million euros. Signed, sealed and sorted.

You couldn’t criticise a man who’d just endowed a baby unit and potentially saved many lives. Not even if you knew he’d bolted and barred his own heart in the process.

The cottage was still mercifully warm as they hurried in and settled determinedly into the domestic details, as though in them lay safety.

He did not speak during the meal, except to thank her. When she stole a look at his face she found it set like stone. Never once did she find him looking at her, or seeking in any way to reach out to her.

Darkness was falling as she went outside to collect more logs for the range. As she worked her mind was turning, making plans. She knew now that her future must be without Luca. He had dealt with this in his own way, and it could not be her way. He could not have made it plainer that he did not need her, and from now on their roads lay apart.

It was good that her love for him had died, and none of this hurt as much as it might once have done. She told herself this, and tried hard to believe it.

She had just finished piling logs in her arms, when she heard the first scream.

At first she couldn’t imagine what it was, and stood listening. After a moment the scream came again, and then again. There was no doubt now that they were coming from inside the cottage. Dropping the logs, she began to run.

Luca was sitting where she’d left him, his hands on the table. His fists were clenched, but he wasn’t punching this time, just leaning on them, his head down, while the sounds that came from him were those of a tormented animal. A bear, caught in an agonising steel trap, might have made those sounds.

On and on they went while she watched in horror. He seemed unable to stop.

‘Luca-’

He straightened up and raised his fists to his head, covering his eyes, while the terrible howls went on.

It was ghastly, and worst of all was her realisation of her own stupidity. She had thought him unfeeling because he didn’t speak of his emotions, but what he felt went too deep for that. He was telling her now, without words, that he suffered to the point of madness.

‘Darling…’ she whispered, putting her arms about him.

At once his own arms went around her, and he buried his face against her, clinging to her, as though there was nothing else in the world that could make him feel safe.

It had been bad enough when she first told him, and he’d punched the wall, but that was nothing. Today had come near to destroying him, and he was begging for her help in the only way he could.

‘All these years,’ he gasped, ‘she’s been alone-we never knew-’

‘No, we never knew. But we won’t let her be alone any more. Luca, Luca…’

She wanted to say a million things but now it was she who could not find words. She could only murmur his name over and over while she held him close, feeling his shoulders shake with the sobs that had been held in for fifteen years.

When, at last, the storm abated he leaned wearily against her, still trembling, but growing quieter.

‘It just happened suddenly,’ he said huskily. ‘One moment I was coping, and the next I was engulfed in hell.’

‘Yes, that’s what happened to me. There’s no defence against it. You have to feel it until it passes.’

‘Does it pass?’ he asked in a voice that tore her heart with its despair.

‘In the end, yes. But you have to feel it first.’

‘I can’t do it alone.’

‘You don’t have to. I’m here. You’re not alone.’

He looked up at her, his face ravaged and stained with tears.

‘I’ll be alone when you leave.’

She took his face between her hands and kissed him gently.

‘Then I won’t leave.’

At first he didn’t react, as though she had said something too momentous to be true. Then he said,

‘You don’t mean that.’

‘I can’t leave you, Luca. I love you. I’ve always loved you, and I always will. We belong together.’

Very slowly he drew back a few inches, and laid his hand over her stomach, looking up with a question in his eyes.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘It’s true.’

Silently he laid his face against her again, not trembling now, but finally at peace. When she took his hand he followed her into her room without protest.