A Family For Keeps

'There are some steps somewhere.'

He went searching around the corner and reappeared wheeling a set of steps high enough to reach the upper levels. Julia studied his sister's face and even from this distance she could see the family resemblance between them. There was a gentleness about Bianca that was instantly appealing.

'I didn't like him,' Vincenzo said, 'but she loved him. They only had four years together before they died.'

'Why didn't you like him?'

'He was too smooth a character. You can see it there in his face.'

She glanced up again, trying to get a better view of the man, whose face was partly obscured by flowers.

Suddenly she felt as though the very air about her had shuddered. She clutched the steps to avoid falling.

'What is it?' Vincenzo asked, concerned.

'I want to climb up.'

'Why? What's the matter?'

'I need to see more closely.'

Feeling as though she were moving through a nightmare, she began to climb the steps, her gaze fixed on the man's face as it grew closer. She took a deep breath, expecting it to change before her eyes. This must all be a terrifying mistake.

But there was no mistake. The face engraved in the marble was that of her husband.

She could hear Vincenzo's voice calling her from a great distance. Gradually the world stopped spinning and she realised that she was sitting on the steps, shivering violently.

'For God's sake, what's the matter?' he demanded, aghast. 'You nearly fainted up there.'

'It's him,' she said through chattering teeth.

'What do you mean?'

'My husband, Bruce. That's him up there.'

'Julia, you're overwrought.'

'I tell you, that's him.'

She forced herself to her feet. 'Let me see him again.'

'All right, and you'll find that it's just a chance resemblance.'

She climbed back to the top step and fixed her eyes on the man, almost hoping to find that it had been a mistake. But there was no doubt. It was the face she hated. Silently she went down and sat on the steps again, feeling as though she were turning to ice.

'That is Bruce,' she said slowly. 'How does he come to be here?'

'Julia, I think you're wrong. You haven't seen him for years and your memories are distorted by hatred.'

'I know what he looked like,' she said angrily. 'Oh, why was I stupid enough to lose his pictures overboard? If I still had them you could see for yourself. That's him.'

Vincenzo drew a sharp breath. If she was right the implications were so monstrous that for the moment he couldn't accept them.

'I can't get my head around this,' he said slowly. 'I know him as James Cardew. He came here five years ago.'

'Was he alone?'

'Julia-'

She clutched his hand painfully. 'Was anyone with him? Tell me.'

'He had a little girl with him,' he said slowly.

'How old?'

'About three.'

'Blue eyes? Fair hair, slightly ginger?'

'Yes.'

'That's my daughter. Where is she?'

'Mio Dio!' he whispered, appalled. 'How can this have happened?'

'Where is she?'

'Since they died she lives with me.'

'I must see her.'

'Wait!' She'd half risen and he seized her arms. 'It isn't as simple as that.'

'She is my daughter. I am her mother. What could be simpler?'

'But you can't just go up to her and tell her who you are. She thinks you're dead.'

She shook her head wildly. 'No, I don't believe you.'

'James told us that he was a widower. The child believed it. She's had years to get used to the idea. For her it's reality. Julia, please try to understand. You can't simply burst on her out of the blue.'

She leaned hopelessly against the side of the steps.

'I didn't believe I could hate him any more than I did,' she said. 'But he had one last trick up his sleeve.'

Other mourners were coming towards them along the tunnel of flowers. He helped her to her feet.

'Let's find somewhere else.'

They found a seat in the cloisters at the far end and sat quietly for a few minutes, both stunned by what had happened.

At last a harsh sound, part laugh, part sob, burst from her.

'I've dreamed of this for so long. It was going to be the happiest moment of my life. Now I feel as if I've been punched in the stomach. You've got to admit that's funny. Oh, heavens, isn't it hilarious?'

She began to laugh softly, trying to smother the sound with her hands.

'Don't,' Vincenzo begged, slipping his arm around her.

'What shall I do? Cry?'

When he didn't answer she looked up and saw that he was looking back the way they had come, to where a middle-aged woman and a little girl had appeared before the plaques of Bianca and her husband. The woman was controlling a pushchair in which a child slept.

'Who are they?' she asked in a shaking voice.

'The woman is Gemma. I employ her as a nanny.'

'And the little girl?'

The world seemed to stop. He was looking at her with an expression of terrible sadness.

'Oh, my God,' she whispered. 'That's-?'

'Yes.' He was gripping her tightly now.

'Let go of me.'

'No. Julia, stop and think. She doesn't know you. She's grieving for the death of her parents.'

'They weren't her parents. Your sister wasn't her mother.'

'But she loved her as though she was. I'm sorry, I know this is painful for you, but for Rosa's sake you must listen.'

'Rosa? Her name is Natalie.'

'Not any longer. He told us her name was Rosa. She's forgotten Natalie.'

'Forgotten me, you mean?'

'I think he set himself to drive you out of her memory, yes.'

'And he succeeded.'

'It's been five years,' he said urgently. 'The child believes what she's been taught to believe. Think what the truth would do to her now. Don't force any more burdens onto her.'

'You're saying I'm a burden to her?' she demanded, aghast.

'You would be at this moment. I beg you to leave it until we've both had time to think.'

'Time for you to spirit her away where I can't find her,' she flashed.

He didn't reply in words, but the white-faced look he gave her was so full of shock that she backed off.

'I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that.'

'No, you shouldn't,' he said harshly. 'Is that the sort of man you think I am?'

'How do I know? Once I thought Bruce was wonderful. When people are fighting over a child they do things that you wouldn't have dreamed-'

'Are we fighting? Have we ever fought? I think I've deserved better from you than that kind of accusation. But since you lump me in with all the others, here'

He pulled a small notebook from his pocket, scribbled something and tore off the page with a gesture that was almost violent.

'That's where I live now,' he snapped. 'Come any time and you'll find her there. But think very carefully about what you're going to say to her.'

Without giving her a chance to answer he stormed off in the direction of the woman and child. Julia sat, frozen with dismay, shocked at herself for having said such a thing to him, appalled at the discovery that had made them almost enemies.

She watched the little scene in the distance. The woman had drawn the steps up to the wall of plaques,climbing them, then taking out the flowers. She descended and indicated for the child to climb up, with the fresh flowers she was holding. She mounted and began to place flowers in the urns, first her father's, then Bianca's.

She was coming down now, sitting on the steps in exactly the same spot where Julia had sat only a few moments ago. She wasn't weeping, merely crouching there with the stillness of despair. The woman tried to comfort her, but to Julia it was hard to tell if the child even noticed.

She felt as though a band were tightening about her heart. How well she knew that feeling of desolation, so deep that the slightest movement didn't seem worth the effort.

Then it swept over her in a tide of anguish. This child was grieving for the loss of her parents, of her mother.

Her mother! Not Julia. Not the woman who'd yearned over her through heartbroken days and agonised nights. Someone else!