'Yes,' Julia said slowly. 'Family is different.'
'Do you have any family?'
'I-no.'
'None at all?'
'My parents are dead.'
'And you never got married?'
'Well, yes, I did, but he's dead too.'
'No little boys or girls?' When Julia didn't answer Rosa was immediately contrite. 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude. Please forgive me.'
'You weren't rude,' Julia said huskily. 'I did have a little girl but I-lost her several years ago. She would have been about your age now.'
Rosa didn't answer in words, but she got up from the floor where she was sitting and put her arms about Julia's neck. Julia hugged her back, overwhelmed by the feel of her child's warmth and her cheek pressed against her own.
'I'm sorry,' Rosa whispered.
She drew back and smiled directly into Julia's face. 'It would be nice to think she would have been like you,' Julia said.
A glint of mischief came into the child's face. 'You wouldn't like it really. Uncle Vincenzo says I'm a fiend.'
'Oh, does he? And are you?'
'Oh, yes. I'm the worst fiend who ever, ever lived.'
'Hmm. That sounds final enough. I guess you must be.'
As she spoke her eye was caught by a large photograph on the sideboard. It was a wedding picture, the bride in glorious white satin and lace. Vincenzo, looking younger, stood beside his sister.
Just behind it was another picture, showing the bride and groom with a little girl in front of them, and in another the bride stood alone, holding the child in her arms. They were regarding each other fondly.
Julia drew a sharp breath. For all her euphoric mood there would still be such moments to be faced. Rosa had been three when these pictures had been taken, and recognisable as the baby Julia had lost. Now she was nestling in the arms of another 'mother'. Unconsciously Julia tightened her own arms around her child, as though by doing so she could reclaim her.
'That was you,' she said softly.
'Oh, yes, when Mamma and Papa got married.'
Julia forced herself to let go. 'Do you have any more?'
'There's an album here,' Rosa said, diving down the side of the bookcase.
Vincenzo appeared in the doorway, saying, 'I'm just going to check on Carlo, see if he's awake yet.'
'I'd better come too,' Rosa said at once.
'I can be trusted to look after him,' he complained.
'Yes, but-he likes to see me when he wakes up,' Rosa said seriously, and hurried out of the room.
Vincenzo sighed. 'She's just like her mo- Like Bianca. She thinks nobody else can be trusted to do anything. We won't leave you alone for long.'
When they had gone Julia began to go through the album Rosa had given her. She knew the contents would hurt, but she had to learn all she could.
It was full of pictures of Bianca and Rosa: more wedding shots, then every milestone in the child's life, birthdays, Christmas, Epiphany.
There was the child in her father's arms, snuggling against him with an air of content. On this evidence he looked like a good father.
And he really did love her, she thought. That's why he took her with him instead of leaving her with my mother. What am I going to tell her when the time comes?
'Come along,' said Rosa's voice from the doorway.
She was holding Carlo by the hand, leading him forward until they were both standing before Julia. He was the image of his father.
'Say 'Buongiorno',' Rosa told him in a stage whisper.
But the little boy hid his face against her and shook his head vigorously.
'He's shy,' Rosa said. 'Look, little one, here's a present for you.'
But he only shook his head the more and began to grizzle, clinging onto his sister.
'I'm sorry,' Rosa said, lifting him in her arms. 'I'd better take him back. He'll be better later.'
She hurried out with the weeping child. Vincenzo, who had been watching, said in a low voice, 'While we have a moment, there's something I need to know, although I have a horrid feeling I know the answer. If your husband simply vanished I don't suppose there was ever a divorce?'
'Not that I heard of.'
'So he was still married to you when he married Bianca. Bastardo! And Carlo is illegitimate. You've seen how it is with him and Rosa. He's one of the things that's holding her together.'
Something else linking her to her new life. Something else taking her away from her mother.
'Julia-'
'It's all right,' she said, shaking her head. 'I've got my breath now.'
She rose and went in search of Rosa. Hearing a murmur from behind a door across the hall, she followed the sound and found herself in a room with a bed and a cot. The two children were sitting on the floor.
'May I come in?' she asked tentatively.
Instead of hiding, the little boy giggled at her. Encouraged, Julia sat down on the edge of the bed.
'He doesn't mind me?' she asked.
'No, he's all right here,' Rosa explained, 'because this is our room. Befana brought him lots of presents this morning. Look.' She swept out a hand towards a merry pile. 'But this one is still his favourite, even though it's years old.'
She pointed to a blue furry rabbit that the boy was clutching, so old and shabby that much of its fur was gone. As Julia looked a strange feeling began to come over her, part ache, part joy. She had seen that rabbit before, long ago, in another life, when it was bright and new.
'Yes, it looks very old,' she said slowly. 'Who gave it to him?'
'I did,' Rosa said proudly. 'His name is Danny. He was my best friend when I was young.' She spoke as if she were a hundred. 'Mamma said that when we met I was clutching him and I wouldn't let him go. Papa was ever so cross.'
'Wh-why?' Julia asked in a shaking voice.
'He didn't like Danny. He kept trying to throw him away.'
Of course he did. Because he knew I'd given you that toy just before we were parted, and he wanted to wipe me out of your mind.
'When you say he kept trying to throw him away-'
'He did it again and again. Mamma kept rescuing Danny and giving him back to me. It's funny that she understood when Papa didn't.'
'She sounds nice,' Julia said carefully.
'She was lovely. She used to get cross with Papa because he wouldn't write home to the family and try to get some pictures of my mother.'
'She did that?'
'Yes. She'd ask me if I remembered my real mother, but he stopped her. I heard them arguing. He said she was my mother, but she said a real mother was special and nobody could take her place.'
So Bianca had been generous and kind. Julia felt a moment's gratitude to her, mingled with pity that she too had come under Bruce's spell.
'I don't think Papa liked my mother very much,' Rosa went on. 'He didn't keep any pictures of her, and he wouldn't talk about her. If I asked him, he always started talking about something else.'
'You don't have any pictures of her at all?'
'No,' Rosa said wistfully. 'I don't even know what she looked like.'
'You can't remember anything?'
