'Not once. Even on the first day, when the news came-' He broke off with a helpless shrug. 'She just closed in on herself. She won't let anyone in, not even me.' He looked at her. 'That's something you know all about.'
'Yes,' she breathed. 'Sometimes it's the only form of self-protection you have.'
'To pack your feelings away in an iron chest marked,'No longer required''. Then bury that chest too deep to be found again,' he said, reminding her of her own words.
'But she's so young!'
'She's eight years old, but she's already lost three parents, and she can't talk to anyone about it. We all have our burdens but-'
'But hers are the worst,' Julia agreed sombrely.
'Normally she loves Carnival, but now she refuses to think of it.'
'Carnival?'
'In February. Everyone dresses up in masks and colourful costumes. Last year she had a wonderful time with James and Bianca. Maybe that's why she's not interested this year. I keep trying to entice her, telling her how excited she ought to be, but-' He shrugged.
'You can't get into someone's mind by force,' Julia said.
'No, I guess I know that.'
Suddenly she burst out. 'What am I going to do? Do you know how I've dreamed of the things I'd say to her when we met again? And now none of them will be right. What can I do?'
'You can trust me.'
'Can I?' she asked before she could stop herself.
He grimaced. 'I suppose you're bound to think that way.'
'How do I know what to think?'
He rose. 'Perhaps we shouldn't talk any more. We both have a lot riding on this, and we can't afford to quarrel.'
'In the meantime, I'm totally in your hands,' she said angrily. It was the kind of thing she'd resolved not to say, but she couldn't help herself. The strains of the day, the helpless sense of being so near and yet so far, filled her with tension that found relief in bitterness.
'I wish I could persuade you that you're safe in my hands,' he said.
'But you have my daughter and I don't,' she cried. 'How am I supposed to get past that?'
'Supposed to forgive that, you mean. Perhaps you never will. We'll talk another time.'
'When do I see her?'
'You have my address. All you have to do is turn up and bulldoze your way in.'
'You know I won't do that.'
'Right, because you're a good mother. That's what's holding you back. Not me.'
'And it'll always hold me back, won't it? It's what you're counting on.'
'Don't say any more, Julia. Don't say things that will make the future harder.'
She turned on him. 'Harder? How much harder than this can it get? Can't you understand what's happened? The last time I saw my child she clung to me and cried, 'Mummy, no!' Today she-didn't even-recognise- me.'
The words came out in jerks. She was trembling violently, unable to prevent the sobs coming. They rose up in her, bursting out as gasping screams.
'Julia!' He came to her but she fended him off.
'No-no-keep away-I'm all right.'
'But you're not. At least let me help you.'
'How can you help me-when we're enemies?' she choked. 'That's true, isn't it?'
'No, we're not enemies. Perhaps we're on different sides, but you and I could never be enemies.'
'That's just words,' she flashed at him. 'If we're not enemies now, we will be in the end. Don't you know that?'
By his face she could tell that he did know it, however hard he might try to deny it.
'No,' he said, trying to sound convinced. 'There's too much between us.'
'There's nothing between us that matters,' she flashed. 'Nothing-nothing-'
She couldn't finish. The sobs were rising again, threatening to suffocate her. Vincenzo abandoned argument and did what he should have done at first, putting his arms around her and holding her tightly.
'Don't try to talk,' he murmured. 'Talking doesn't help.' He sighed, resting his cheek against her hair. 'I don't really know what does help, but it isn't words.'
She couldn't answer. Waves of grief overwhelmed her. It was as if all the tears she had shed over the last few years were still there to be shed again.
From somewhere she heard him murmuring her name, and felt his head resting against hers. He was right. Words were useless. The only comfort lay in shared warmth, and it was only to be found in him.
'All these years,' she wept, 'thinking of her every day, longing for her, loving her, but not knowing what she looked like any more, dreaming of when I'd find her again, what we'd say to each other-'
'I know, I know,' he whispered.
'What did I think was going to happen? Deluding myself-she was bound to have a new life-but I wouldn't let myself see it-'
'Julia-Julia-'
'She doesn't want me.'
'It's too soon to say that.'
'No, it isn't. Don't you see I've been fooling myself all this time? I'm a stranger to her. She doesn't want me and she never will.'
She wept without restraint. She had come to the end of the journey and the ending was bitter and hopeless. He tried desperately to soothe her, turning her face up to him and kissing it repeatedly. Her wretchedness tore at him and for a moment he would have done anything in the world to make things right for her.
Anything but the one thing she wanted.
He'd seen her face like this once before, the night she'd walked in her sleep and he'd promised to help her. How far away it seemed now.
He kissed her tears, then her lips, gently at first, then fiercely as though trying to call her back from some distant region.
'You said there was nothing between us,' he said huskily. 'But you're wrong. There's this-and this-'
For a moment she almost yielded. The feeling was so sweet and welcome. But now the distress that fuelled her whole life had extended to him, and she would not weaken.
'Yes,' she said wistfully. 'But it's not enough. Please, Vincenzo-'
He sighed and released her.
'You're right,' he said. 'It's not enough. I'd better be going.'
She wanted to say something to keep him there. She wanted him to go.
She longed to think of the right thing to say, but the words wouldn't come to her, and he was equally silent.
'Goodnight,' he said at last.
'Goodnight.'
He left, closing the door quietly behind him. Julia could only stand, in violent despair, watching that closed door, wishing she could dash her head against it.
That night her dreams were haunted by a child screaming for the mother she was about to lose. She could feel the arms about her neck, desperately clinging on as she was torn away.
'No, Mummy, no!'
She awoke to find herself sitting up, staring into the darkness, clinging onto the wall as though to stop herself from falling.
After that she didn't dare go back to sleep. She got up and spent the rest of the night walking the silent calks.
She wondered what she would say to Vincenzo, but when she went to work there was no sign of him. Someone said he'd called to say he wouldn't be in today.
She made a decision.
