Roman Holiday Read online

  “I have to get back to the hotel. I hope you settle in well,” she added, taking in both Toby and Caroline in her glance. “And about that drink?” She raised her arm, palm out, as she passed, high-fiving Caroline on the way. “You’re on.”

  Naomi headed down the grand staircase to the main foyer and stopped to chat with Valentina, who was arranging a marvellous bouquet of flowers on the marble hallstand.

  “What do you think of Caroline and Tobias, Naomi?” Valentina asked, inserting a tall piece of greenery unerringly into exactly the right spot.

  Naomi admired the artistry in a distracted fashion. It was something she usually loved, flower arranging, and she determined to bring some fresh ones home from the hotel that evening to brighten her apartment.

  “She seems extremely nice, Valentina, but I’ve only just met her.” No need to add bumping into her and Nick on an obviously personal occasion. “What do you think? It’s so nice that she and Toby can be here with you and Antonio. How long are they staying?”

  Valentina took a step back to survey her work.

  “It was Nick’s idea, having them here, and we are so thrilled. Toby is a dream. So like our Toni at that age.” She rested her hand over her heart and smiled dreamily. “But even though that is a little hard at times, it is also so absolutely lovely.” She turned and took Naomi’s arm as they strolled towards the main door. “Caroline is going to help us catalogue all the hotel art, or at least the Italian collection, and,” she continued, genuine joy in her voice, “Toby is to stay till Christmas and attend school with Mia! Exciting, no?” She looked expectantly into Naomi’s face and saw the obvious surprise. “Yes, it was a difficult persuasion to get her to let our grandson remain here. But,” she whispered conspiratorially, “we worked on her own feeling of the guilt. Naughty, no?” Her eyes crinkled as she let out a chuckle.

  Naomi looked down at her and couldn’t help answering for the young woman upstairs.

  “That was downright sly, Valentina. You and Antonio should be ashamed of yourselves. Have you thought of how Caroline must feel?”

  “Of course, of course. We are sly, indeed, but, well, we are still missing our boy and this, this new development into our lives has made some of our sadness hide for a while. Do you understand, mia caro?”

  Valentina’s eyes misted slightly as she brushed a hand over a photograph of her Toni hanging near the door.

  Naomi had seen the picture many times in passing, but having just met young Toby she studied it with more interest. Wow, it was like looking at a projection of the boy in years to come. The resemblance was startling. Their very essence was so similar. She leaned down and placed a tender kiss on the elder woman’s cheek. Missing her own daughter was a heartbreak never to be overcome. She totally understood.

  “I do, Valentina, I really do,” she answered.

  After closing the door gently behind her, she climbed into the waiting taxi. Looking back at the beautiful home as the car drove down the avenue, Naomi dug out her phone and swiped her finger to a photo of a gorgeous smiling girl of about ten, her own eyes hardening as vivid, violent memories flooded in.

  “I hope you rot in hell, you miserable bastard,” she murmured and, brushing her hands over damp cheeks, she put her phone back in her bag.

  Chapter 14

  Caro scratched a few more lines in one of her many notebooks and placed the canvas she’d been studying and cataloguing to one side. She rubbed her eyes and rotated her neck slowly as she shrugged and lowered her aching shoulders. Was she overdoing it? No doubt, but it was so interesting discovering all the treasures hidden on the top floor of the palazzo. She had so much more to do and would never be done in the few weeks running up to Christmas. Which made her think again about the offer she received from the Accademia earlier today.

  They wanted her to stay on for another term after New Year and although the evening lectures would be over, she could certainly put in the time here, cataloguing this body of work. After much discussion and dispute, she accepted that it was a job and would be paid, rather well, by the hotel. Caro wasn’t sure if that was Nick’s doing, but Antonio swore they were just going to have to hire someone else and they’d rather it be her. So, decision time. Did she email her college and ask for an extended break and come back after the holidays? She and Toby needed to make that choice together, but with only a week since they moved in to the di Lucas’, he was still finding his feet.

  Thank goodness for Mia. She was an absolute delight. Full of fun and mischief, she seemed to bring out a goofy side to Toby, who was often too serious for a boy his age. Mia spoke straight from the heart – a social filter wasn’t something that seemed to be in her repertoire. And that made for some very funny mealtimes. Toby seemed to like the school he was attending with Mia and she was a popular child in her year, so making friends as the new “show and tell” for her class was a breeze.

  Marianna was a different story.

  Caro couldn’t figure her out at all. Shy and skittish, she rarely offered any conversation, unless she was asked a question directly. Where Mia came from was a mystery. Toni had been social but not nearly as extroverted as his daughter. And Marianna often looked so unhappy. Well, that Caro could understand. But three years on? She must have been heartbroken when Toni died and no amount of time had made her any less introverted.

  In fairness, Caro could see how she and Toby’s arrival had thrown her for a loop. Her husband had slept with another woman and in almost the same time frame that he’d got both women pregnant. Christ! it was worse than a very bad soap opera. Surely, in some weird and even creepy way, she and Marianna could become, if not friends, then friendly. They had, after all, rather a lot in common. Both had, literally and figuratively, been screwed by Toni di Luca.

  Caro tucked the canvas she’d been studying back in its case and decided there was no time like the present. Toby was in bed and Caro could use a drink. She remembered Valentina saying that Marianna often spent her evenings in the library. Caro hadn’t figured her for a reader, but maybe she was judging her too harshly. Time to find out and find me a brandy, she thought as she gathered her notebooks and flipped the light in the huge attic-type space that was filled with boxed and wrapped canvases.

  The library was one of those magical rooms, especially if you were a book lover. Floor to ceiling in old oak shelves – they even had a ladder that slid along the top rail – talk about posh – with each section discreetly labelled and alphabetised so it made browsing a delight. The lighting was localised by well-positioned lamps so the interior, when Caro entered, was warm and welcoming. A fire burned low in the grate and Caro made her way there directly to give the embers a stir. Replacing the poker and the coal bucket, she turned towards the drinks table, peering about for any sign of Marianna.

  With a jolt, she realised the woman in question was seated on the couch not a metre from her, silent as the grave, her gaze on a layout of cards on the small inlaid occasional table next to her. Crikey, she hadn’t even stirred when Caro had passed within inches of her. Odd wasn’t the word, Caro thought as she pressed a hand to her rapid heartbeat. Taking a breath, she figured, in for a penny . . .

  “Oh, Marianna, I hope I’m not interrupting you. You were so quiet and I didn’t see you at first.”

  Without waiting for a response, she continued to the drinks table and selected the brandy decanter and a lovely crystal tumbler. She didn’t need the official round bowl of a glass for her drink – it probably wouldn’t stay in her glass long enough to warm through, anyway.

  “May I pour you a drink?” she asked, turning to face the other woman.

  There was what appeared to be a half-glass of water next to the laid-out cards on the small table. Maybe it was vodka and she was secretly half-cut all the time, Caro pondered – rather nastily, she admitted to herself.

  “No. Thank you, no.” Marianna’s voice was low, her English just fine.

  Caro knew by now that Marianna understood the English language per
fectly and while she rarely spoke, when she did, it was obvious she was more than capable.

  “Oh, go on,” Caro urged, turning into one of those awful people who insisted others drank with them. “Please, keep me company. I’ll choose something for you.”

  Caro decided that Marianna needed to be told what to do and what better woman than herself – always organising and sorting out others. She poured a second brandy and added a dash of sparkling ginger to soften the blow.

  In spite of the warmth in the room, Marianna’s fingers felt chilled as she took the offered glass, a mumbled “Oh, but I shouldn’t,” vanishing as she took a sip.

  “Thank you,” she said, “it’s very pleasant, isn’t it?”

  “Brandy is your only man,” Caro agreed and then realised her sentiment may have been lost in translation, as the other woman was frowning at her. Chuckling, Caro said, “It’s just an Irish expression, nothing to do with actual men, don’t dwell on it.” She took a seat at the other end of the couch, curling one leg comfortably beneath her. “So,” she continued, “how are you doing?”

  “Doing?” Marianna sounded bewildered.

  “Yes, how are you?” Stressing the word, Caro hoped Marianna would realise she was being encouraged to open up a bit, chat about herself, share, even.

  “How am I?” the woman queried.

  Oh, for jaysus sake, Caro almost groaned. This was going to be hard bloody work. She pasted a smile in place and tried again.

  “I’d love to hear about Mia as a small child. She’s such a great girl, I was wondering if she was always so lively and outgoing?”

  There. No mother could resist talking about their beloved offspring. Surely this would do the trick.

  Marianna smiled. A little, but it was a curving of the lips, for sure.

  “Always talking. Even from very small,” she confided, “and always laughing and joking, just like her papa,” she added.

  Like Toni? Really? Hmm. Not the way Caro remembered him, but then it turned out he’d been a lying asshole to her. Maybe when he was with his wife and daughter he’d been a different man.

  “How did you and Toni meet?” Caro ventured into more personal territory.

  Still smiling about her daughter, Marianna took another sip of her drink, her card game forgotten.

  “We were friends from very little. Our families were in the same business, and friends, too. My papa and Antonio were from the same district outside Rome. It was often just me and Toni playing in the hotel dining rooms or foyers as our papas talked about their work. Toni was like a brother to me.” She paused as she must have realised even to her that sounded a bit odd. She flushed slightly. “But not always, of course, not when we got older.”

  Caro nodded. She understood. All too well.

  Her own brother Devlin was shortly to marry the woman who’d been like a sister to them all for years. She understood that feelings can change, mature, evolve. Dev had been in love with Frankie since he was fifteen, but it took Frankie a lot longer. The depths of Frankie’s feelings for him hadn’t surfaced till this last summer. And boy, was she making up for lost time! Caro didn’t begrudge her one iota of hot romantic gestures and behaviour. That “sister” of theirs had been through the ringer and she deserved every bit of happiness that came her way.

  Caro studied Marianna intently, trying to see if maybe she, too, deserved her happy ever after. Oh! that was just daft. Of course she did. Didn’t everyone? But Marianna seemed not to want to be happy any more. Her perpetual sad face and demeanour to all around her was enough to drive a saint demented. It was three bloody years since Toni died. Granted, Caro hadn’t lost the love of her life, but surely, for your child’s sake, for your own sake, you’d make a bit of an effort, even now and then? After three years? Or maybe Caro was just heartless and hadn’t a clue about grief. She tried again.

  “Where does Mia get her fabulous hair? Those blonde curls are amazing.”

  Marianna seemed to stiffen and turned her face towards the fire.

  “My mother’s relatives are from Northern Italy, where many people are fairer of skin and hair.”

  She spoke calmly as if it were a practised sentence. How odd. Maybe she was sick of people asking, noting the difference from Marianna’s own dark hair and light-brown skin and that of Toni’s. Again, Caro understood. She’d got sick and tired of people wondering where Toby got his colouring, so different from either the Fitzgeralds or the Flynns – her mum’s side of the family.

  “I hear you,” she agreed, holding up her glass in a toast. “I was fed up telling people effectively to mind their own business when I was challenged about Toby’s dark eyes, hair and skin.”

  Marianna smiled. Actually smiled this time! And wow! She was so pretty she’d take your breath away. Unable to help herself, Caro opened her mouth and in typical unthinking manner, inserted her foot.

  “Oh, God, you’re so gorgeous! I had no idea how pretty you are. No wonder Toni fell for you – jeez, I feel so stupid for ever doubting it.”

  And doubt it she had. When Caro and Toni had shared their brief summer they’d talked and laughed and challenged each other. Constantly testing each other’s knowledge and skills in language, art, history, culture. When Caro had first met Marianna and realised her relationship to Toni she’d been surprised. Not by word or action had she appeared as the kind of young woman Toni would have favoured – the Toni Caro remembered, anyway. But now, as her face lit up with a genuine smile, Caro could see the attraction and if she was animated like that in conversation, she’d have held him enthralled. So she tried again.

  “What are your interests, Marianna, outside of your daughter?”

  “Mine?” Marianna appeared confused as if someone asking her opinion was foreign to her. But she took a breath and with her eyes downcast, as if in embarrassment, she muttered, “Farming.”

  “Farming?” Caro repeated, just to be sure she’d heard correctly. “As in cows and sheep and growing crops?”

  “Sì,” Marianna agreed, “especially sheep. And some crops and of course grapes. I grew up visiting my grandfather’s farm in Valle d’Aosta and although it is mostly dairy cows in that region, my grandfather ran several hundred sheep, too. I loved it there.”

  Her eyes grew dreamy as she spoke, telling Caro about the farm and her childhood summers there. She was animated and enthusiastic and absolutely lovely. Caro sat back, listening with enjoyment to the tales of a girlhood spent learning about cereals and sheep, grape varieties and cows. Yes, she could see this fervent woman appealing to Toni all right. He may not have had much interest in farming as a way of life, but her passion was contagious, damn her, and Caro could see how it must have gone down between them.

  “Why don’t you go and live there now?” Caro asked, curious. “It obviously pains you to be living here in Rome, even in these beautiful suburbs.”

  “Mama says no. We must stay for Mia’s future. The hotel business is her future. Not farms. And not sheep.”

  “What does Mia enjoy? Have you brought her to her great-grandfather’s home?”

  Marianna smiled again. “She loved the farm. She played with lambs and went on the tractor with my nonno, who is old now and should not be driving. He is my papa’s papa and my mama never really cared for his family. The hotel business comes from her papa. Of course it’s nothing so grand as the di Lucas’, but it is substantial. That is a word, yes?”

  “It’s a word,” Caro confirmed.

  A word that was pretty small for the type of business she was learning belonged to the di Luca family, run by Nick Sullivan. But she encouraged Marianna to talk some more about Mia and the farm, getting up once from the couch to refill their glasses. Now that she’d opened the gate, so to speak, Marianna chatted like they were best pals, only becoming reticent if Toni’s name was mentioned. And, indeed, why would she ever feel comfortable discussing her marriage with the woman he cheated with? Not an easy situation by any stretch of anyone’s imagination.

  A cou
ple of hours later, slightly sozzled, the two women got up to take their leave to separate parts of the house. Caro had one more question for her new sort of friend.

  “Why do you sit here in the library, night after night, playing solitary card games instead of joining the others in the main drawing room?”

  “It is the only place I am breathing.”

  By early December the plans had been set. Caro and Toby were to return to Italy after Christmas and stay till the summer. Caro’s college had been fantastic about it, recognising the value and reputation she was earning in Rome, all the while promoting Irish art and encouraging buyers. For her own peace of mind, Caro had recommended a colleague to take her place, a young man who showed tremendous promise in lecturing but just needed the kick to give it a go. It was definitely win-win. Her salary would go to him, while the school in Rome would pay her handsomely here. And with the di Lucas insisting on paying her a salary also, she’d be better off financially.

  Toby was delighted. He was also, he said, really happy to be going home for the Christmas holidays, and so was she.

  The first weekend in December loomed and when she realised some shopping needed to be done, she and Marianna planned a Friday hitting the shops. Toby would stay at home with his grandparents after school, and then that evening she and her son were to begin their first weekend alone at the palazzo. Antonio and Valentina were paying a flying visit to Paris with friends, and Elena, Marianna and Mia were all to visit other relatives in Florence.

  Caro was looking forward to having Toby cook a meal, as even Maria had the night off. Toby was excited to have the run of the kitchen, even though Maria had left strict instructions about which implements and ovens to use. She’d taken Toby under her wing, charmed by him, his likeness to his father and his talent in the kitchen.

  Marianna and Caro had formed an easy alliance. The unspoken rule was they were only friendly in private. It was obvious to both of them that Caro was still very much persona non grata in Elena’s eyes and therefore not to be conversed with on any account. So they kept their library chats just between them. Caro would work in the attic rooms till about 9 p.m. and then spend about an hour chatting with Marianna. Sometimes either Mia or Toby needed them and that was fine – it was a loose, easy arrangement, but Caro was glad of the company.