A Family For Keeps

amount, and she was merely sharing with him. From his sceptical look she'd doubted that he'd been fooled, but he'd accepted the money.

'Get something warm to wear,' she told him.

But as the days went on there was no sign of new clothes. Evidently he had other priorities, which he was not prepared to discuss.

She was a huge success at Il Pappagallo. Venice was filling up with Christmas tourists, and the restaurant was crowded every night. Some of the customers insisted on being served only by her.

She enjoyed this admiration, which made her laugh. Vincenzo, she was secretly pleased to note, didn't find it funny.

'You shouldn't let Antonnio monopolise you,' he said as they were walking through the dark calles one night. 'There are plenty of other customers.'

'He's the kind who always makes sure he's noticed,' Julia said lightly. Antonnio's persistent gallantry had done her ego a world of good.

'And you always make sure you serve him first,' Vincenzo growled.

'Only because he grabs that table near the kitchen.'

'Yes, so that he can grab your hand as you go past, and devour it,' he said, as close to ill tempered as she'd ever seen him.

'In future, I'll serve him.' She chuckled. 'He'll love that.'

'You're loving it.'

'Well, he did promise me a very special tip,' she mused.

'Be careful. Antonnio's 'special tips' are legendary and they don't involve money.'

She took his arm. 'Oh, stop being so pompous. I'm just doing my job. And after six years shut up with women maybe I don't mind a little admiration.'

'A little admiration,' he scoffed. 'Another moment he'd have had you down on the floor.'

She didn't answer that with words, only with an ironic glance.

'I see,' he said grimly. 'Perhaps the woman who boasts of no feelings likes making me jealous?'

'The woman with no feelings says she doesn't belong to you, and you have no right to be jealous. What happened to your promise to back off and give me space?'

'I wouldn't be the first man to make a promise he can't keep.'

'Vincenzo, what are you hoping for?'

He shrugged. 'Maybe I'm waiting to meet Sophie.'

'She's gone. She died some time during my second year in gaol. She won't come back.'

'You're wrong. She never completely went away. That's why I can't free myself of you.'

They had come to a halt under a lamp that showed them to each other in bleached, unearthly hues. Her face, once too thin, had filled out a little, he realised, and lost some of its tormented look. She had fine, beautiful bone structure, and the slight extra flesh suited her, reclaiming some of her youth.

Tonight she had revelled, siren-like, in her customers' adulation, making him wonder at the different moods that turned her into so many people. Any of them, or none of them, could be the real woman, and all of them were driving him mad.

'You should try harder to free yourself from me,' she said. 'It's just a question of being strong-minded.'

'Maybe I don't want to be strong-minded.'

Snow began to fall, just a few flakes at first, then more and more. Through them she searched his face in the cold light. 'In the end I'll go away and leave you,' she whispered. 'Like everyone else.'

'I know,' he said sadly. 'But who knows when the end will be? Not tonight.'

As he spoke he gathered her into his arms, and she went into them easily, offering her lips to his kiss and returning it with passion.

She knew that very passion was her enemy. It threatened to distract her from her purpose, but she couldn't help it. He brought her back to life, and the feeling was sweet, wild, and frightening.

'No-no-' she whispered, more to herself than him. He drew back to look at her with troubled eyes. 'Do you want me to stop?'

'No,' she said explosively, fastening her mouth on his. She was kissing him with frantic desire, possessed by feelings that were almost too sweet to be borne. It was she who explored his mouth, almost attacking him in her urgency, teasing his lips, his tongue, feeling the deep satisfaction of his response.

'Stay with me tonight,' he murmured against her mouth.

But she shook her head. 'Not now-not tonight-'

'Mio Dio! How much do you think one man can stand?You're not being fair. He ill- used you and you revenge yourself on us all.'

'No, it's not that, I swear it. But I don't feel that I belong anywhere. The past is over and I can't tell about the future.'

'Your daughter is all that matters to you, I know that.' He sighed, resting his forehead against hers. 'But I can be patient and hope for my turn.'

'Even if it never comes?'

'Do you believe that one day you'll get your heart's desire?'

'I have to,' she whispered.

'So do I. Let's leave it there, and hope for better times.'

He slipped his arm about her shoulders, and she leaned contentedly against him as they walked the rest of the way in the falling snow.

At midday on Christmas Eve a cannon was fired from the turrets of the Castel Sant'Angelo in Rome, and Christmas had officially begun.

She and Piero listened to it together on a battery-powered radio she'd bought. The restaurant had closed, Vincenzo had gone off to his family, and she had settled in for Christmas at the palazzo.

They had stocked up with seasonal goodies, including panettone, the traditional rich fruit cake.

'We're supposed to fast for twenty-four hours after the cannon,' Piero explained, 'but I don't believe in slavishly adhering to every tradition.'

'Neither do I,' she said. 'Let's have some cake.'

As they munched she said, 'I remember when I was a child, hanging my stocking up on Christmas Eve.'

'Children don't do that in Italy,' he explained. 'Stockings don't go up until Epiphany, January sixth.'

'I'm not waiting until then to give you your present.'

'You gave me those gloves, and the scarf, two weeks ago,' he reminded her.

'Well, I had to give them to you early before you froze to death. What happened to all that money you were supposed to be spending on yourself?'

'I gambled it away. I used to be notorious for breaking the bank at Monte Carlo.'

'All right, don't tell me. Anyway, here's some boots and warm socks. I had to guess the size.'

The size was perfect. He put them on and paraded splendidly before her. She smiled and applauded, feeling content.

'And this is yours,' he said, pulling out a small object, carefully wrapped in newspaper.

Opening it she found a china Pierrot figure in a black mask and a costume decorated with many colours. Now she knew what had become of his money. She had seen this in a shop and it cost a fortune. 'Pierrot,' she said.

'So that you don't forget me,' he said. '

Do you think I ever could? Buon Natale, Pierrot.'

'Buon Natale.'

Vincenzo's gift to her was a cell phone. He called her halfway through Christmas Day. 'It's a sad Christmas for you,' he said.

'Not really. I have my friends now, and I have hope. Is that your niece I can hear?' Behind him she could make out a little girl's laughter.

'Yes, that's Rosa.'

'It's a lovely sound,' she said wistfully.

'Your time will come. Cling onto that hope.'