'Whatever. What does anything matter? I thought I'd never have even this much again, and I'm going to enjoy today. I'll worry about the rest later.'
Now he could see her as she'd been years ago, young and full of hope, before grief and despair had marked her. He grinned and told her something that would please her.
'You heard what Rosa said about your being her guest? Because she was the one who invited you. She's determined to do all the entertaining herself. She even wanted to cook the meal, but I drew the line at that. Gemma cooked it, but she'll be leaving as soon as we get there, to spend the day with her family.'
'You should have let her cook it,' Julia declared. 'It would have tasted glorious.'
'I've tasted Rosa's attempts at cooking,' he said darkly. 'Believe me, it would probably have poisoned you.'
'I wouldn't care. Isn't she a wonderful little person, Vincenzo? Did you notice what she did that day in the palazzo, when I had that fall?'
'You scared the life out of me.'
'But not out of her. She wasn't scared, although it must have sounded like a terrible crash down where you were, and I heard you tell her to come back, but she didn't take any notice-'
'The little monkey never takes any notice,' he said, unable to keep the fond pride out of his voice.
'She just dashed up bravely. It could have been anything making that racket, but all she cared about was finding out. She's one of those people who runs forward to life with her arms out. I'm so proud of her already, aren't you?'
'Yes, I am-'
'She's wonderful,' Julia carolled up to the sky.
He gave up trying to remonstrate, knowing that she was beyond reason. Nor did he really want to bring her down to earth. Something caught in his throat at the sight of her joy, and he wished it could last for ever.
'We should hurry,' he said. 'Gemma can't leave until we get there.'
'Then let's go,' she said, seizing his hand and pulling him off the bridge, determined to be delayed no longer. Soon they reached the Fondamenta Soranzo, where her eyes sought the windows of the house.
'Look, there's Rosa, watching for us,' she cried, and waved eagerly.
The little girl waved back, beaming. Vincenzo opened the front door into a large hallway, with a flight of steps leading up.
'We live up there,' he said.
'Uncle Vincenzo!' called a child's voice from upstairs, and the next minute Rosa came flying down to envelop him in a fierce embrace.
Then she turned her attention to Julia, too. But immediately she stood back and became the perfect hostess, polite and formal.
'Buongiorno, Signora Baxter. I am very pleased to welcome you to this house and I hope you will have a very happy day with us.'
'Thank you, I know that I will,' Julia said, charmed. 'But please call me Julia.'
'Signora Julia.'
'No, just Julia.'
Rosa,cast a quick glance at Vincenzo, who shrugged and indicated Julia, saying, 'It's for our guest to decide.'
'My guest,' Rosa insisted. 'Because I invited you.'
'Yes, you did, and it was very kind of you,' Julia said, smiling.
The sun had come out. Her daughter was a charming child with generous, confiding ways, and she had reached out to her.
'Come with me.' Rosa seized her hand and drew her up the stairs, Vincenzo following.
The apartment was spacious and attractive. The main room contained furniture that looked antique and had probably come from the palazzo.
Rosa took her coat and ushered her to the sofa, then bustled busily away. Julia heard her speaking to someone in the next room, then Gemma emerged, wearing an outdoor coat, and bid everyone goodbye.
In the centre of the room was a low table on which stood several plates, bearing cakes and biscuits, some elegant glasses, and a bottle of Prosecco. Rosa reappeared and began to pour some of the sparkling white wine for Julia and Vincenzo and orange juice for herself.
'Please have a cake,' she said to Julia. 'Lunch will be in an hour.'
'Perhaps I'd better look after the final stages,' Vincenzo said. 'Why don't you show Julia your presents?'
Rosa promptly became a child again, bouncing to her feet and drawing Julia into the next room where there was a decorated tree, and signs of gifts opened with eager fingers. Rosa showed them off proudly.
'I should really have waited for you to come before I opened my presents.'
'Never mind,' Julia told her. 'When I was your age I always got down to business very early, usually about six o'clock on Christmas morning. In England children hang up their stockings at Christmas, not Epiphany.'
Rosa was wide-eyed. 'You don't have Befana?'
'I'm afraid I don't know what that is.'
'Befana is a kindly witch. They say the three kings invited her to visit the baby Jesus with them, but she was busy and didn't go. Later she changed her mind, but by then she'd missed the star and lost her way. So now she flies around on her broomstick and leaves presents in every house where there are children, because she doesn't know which house is the right one.'
'That sounds lovely. I'm glad you told me about her. Now I know who it must have been.'
'Must have been?' Rosa queried.
'This old woman who whirled around my head on her broomstick, and dropped something into my bag. She said she hadn't delivered everything to this house, and didn't have time to come back, so would I bring a few things for her?'
As she said this Julia produced her gifts. She had spent much time choosing them in an art bookshop, asking for 'Something for a very intelligent eight-year-old.' The sight of Rosa's face as she unwrapped everything told her that she'd chosen well.
'You remembered,' Rosa breathed.
'Yes, I remembered what we said the other day,' Julia agreed, 'but I also remembered myself when I was your age. These are the kind of things I loved to read.'
She fell silent, watching as Rosa examined one book that she'd chosen with particular care. It was almost entirely pictures, each one with a large caption that was repeated twice, once in Italian, once in English.
Rosa ran her fingers down one of the shiny pages, letting them rest on the English. She was frowning a little, but then she nodded and looked up, smiling.
Julia reached into her bag. 'And I brought this for Carlo. I didn't wrap it because I thought perhaps you should see it first and make sure it's all right.'
It was a magnetic fishing puzzle. There was a brightly coloured picture, showing jungle creatures against lush foliage. Each animal could be separated from the background by dint of dangling a magnet until it made contact.
Rosa let out a whoop. 'He'll love this.'
'I hope so. The shop said it was suitable for a two-year-old. It's supposed to develop his skills at-well, moving and co-ordination and that sort of thing. Oh, never mind that. It looks fun.'
'Oh, yes, it does. Carlo will love it.'
'I remembered how sad he seemed the other day, and I thought he needed cheering up.'
'You saw him at San Michele, didn't you? Uncle Vincenzo was right, I shouldn't have taken him. He thought he was going to see Mamma and Papa and when they weren't there he cried. But you see-' She hesitated.
'Please trust me,' Julia said. 'You can tell me anything. I won't repeat it.'
Rosa nodded. 'My mother died when I was the same age as Carlo, and I can't really remember her. And I hate that. It's like having a gap when there ought to be somebody. I didn't want that to happen to Carlo, but I got it wrong.
'He's too young to understand about people dying, you see. He only knows that there's something missing. So Uncle Vincenzo and I show him lots of extra love. Gemma does too, of course, but we're his family. And that's different.'
