One Summer in Italy…

The silent house, the sudden unwelcome freedom for one whose life had been all duty, the aching emptiness-

‘Wasn’t there anyone else?’

‘No, just the two of us. She’d been ill for a long time.’

Holly didn’t want to talk about the long, agonising years watching her mother die by slow degrees. Words rose to her lips, all calculated to divert the conversation down another path and kill it with platitudes.

Then she saw Liza’s eyes on her. They were innocent and had a quality of kindness that seemed strange in a child. But this one knew more than any child should, and she deserved honesty.

‘The doctors couldn’t cure her,’ she said. ‘So I looked after her.’

‘Until she died?’

‘Yes, as long as she needed me.’

‘But you knew she was going to die,’ Liza said with an understanding that was too mature for her years. ‘She didn’t just vanish-suddenly, when you thought everything was all right.’

‘Was that what happened to you?’

Liza nodded.

‘We were going on holiday,’ she said in a slightly husky voice. ‘I remember Mamma packing lots of cases because she said we were going away for longer this time. It was going to be a special Christmas holiday, but we’d never been away at Christmas before.

‘It was funny because everything was different. Poppa didn’t come to see us off, and he didn’t say when he’d join us. I asked Mamma when he’d come but she didn’t know.

‘And then we were on the train, and Mamma was sort of-jumpy. When I said things, she didn’t seem to hear me. A man came and talked to us. I’d never met him before, and I didn’t like him much.

‘Suddenly there was a loud noise and the train turned over and over. Mamma put her arms about me, and I remember a terrible pain. I clung on to her because I knew she’d keep me safe, and I kept calling Poppa because if he was there he’d look after us both. I cried for him again and again but he didn’t come.

‘Then I went to sleep and when I woke up I was in hospital, and Mamma was dead. I cried and cried, but I never saw her again.’

‘You poor little thing,’ Holly murmured.

‘If I’d known-I could have said lots of things to her first. I could have told her that I loved her.’

‘But she would have known that without words.’

‘Maybe. But we had a squabble. I didn’t want to go without Poppa and I cried and said I wouldn’t go. I was nasty to her on the train. Now I can’t ever tell her that I’m sorry.’

‘Oh, piccina,’ Holly said, struck to the heart by the burden the child was carrying. ‘None of that matters. People fight but it doesn’t mean they don’t love each other. She knew that.’

‘But I want to tell her.’

‘And you can. You can still talk to her in your heart. She knew how much you loved her, and that was more important than any argument. You didn’t need to say it, because your love for her was part of her love for you. And when it’s like that, it’s always there.’

‘Really?’

‘Really.’

Liza nodded. She seemed satisfied, as though anything her new friend said could always be trusted. Holly knew a slight qualm. This appealing child was laying too many expectations on her, and it might lead to her getting even more hurt.

‘What was your mamma like?’ Liza wanted to know.

‘She was brave. In spite of what was happening to her, she always found something to laugh about. That’s what I remember most-how she laughed.’

Something caught in her throat as the memories of that laughter came back to her, frail, growing shakier but more defiant, until at last it was gone forever. She turned her head to hide the sudden rush of tears, but Liza was too quick for her. In a moment her arms were about Holly’s neck, the comforter, not the comforted.

Holly tried to speak but the ache in her throat was too much. At last she gave up and hugged the little girl back, accepting the consolation she offered.

‘Perhaps we should go back to the house now,’ Holly said at last. ‘Aren’t you supposed to have a nap?’

‘Berta says so,’ Liza grumbled, making a face. ‘She wants me to use my wheelchair all the time, but I don’t need it.’

‘I think you need it sometimes. And if you don’t rest enough you’ll delay your recovery. And then I’ll be in trouble,’ she added lightly.

Liza scowled but got back into the wheelchair. As they headed home they saw Anna approaching them.

‘There’s a parcel for you,’ she called.

‘Already?’ Holly said. ‘I thought it would be several days.’

‘What is it?’ Liza asked eagerly.

‘My new clothes. Your father made me order some last night because all mine were left on the train.’

‘Let’s go and see them.’

Back in the house she almost dragged Holly into the tiny lift that had been installed for her, and then into her room, where Anna had laid out the parcel. The child plunged into the delightful business of unpacking, sighing over the lovely clothes.

‘This is the best store in all Rome,’ she enthused. ‘Mamma shopped there all the time. Poppa complained she was always going over the limit of his account, but he didn’t really mind because he said she looked so lovely.’

‘Well, these clothes aren’t to make me look nice,’ Holly said firmly, lifting out sweaters, followed by a coat. ‘They’re practical.’

But then she discovered something that made her frown. Conscious that she was spending the judge’s money, she had placed only a modest order of underwear. But there were three times as many panties, bras and slips as she had specified.

Perhaps she had made a mistake, and asked for more than she’d intended. But inwardly she knew this was Signor Fallucci’s doing. Before finalising matters, he had reviewed her order and increased it.

But only the underwear. Nothing else had been changed.

She wanted to laugh wildly. He, a judge, had saved her from the police, and within a few hours he was dictating to her in the matter of underwear. There was a surreal quality to it that made her dizzy.

He’d been right. She hadn’t ordered enough and he’d known it, but there was an intimacy about such knowledge that gave her an uncomfortable suspicion that she was blushing.

Then she noticed something on the accompanying paperwork that she’d missed before:

‘First part of order. Second part to follow soon.’

First part? But everything she’d ordered was here.

The sooner she spoke to him the better.

He didn’t appear at supper that evening, and Anna explained that the judge had called to say he was detained by urgent business.

Berta had returned, glowing from her day out, and the three of them had supper together.

‘Did you do all the shopping you wanted?’ Holly asked.

‘Yes, I bought lots of lovely new clothes.’ Berta sighed happily.

‘Will Alfio like them?’ Liza asked cheekily.

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Berta said, trying to sound airy.

‘Alfio’s her sweetheart,’ Liza confided to Holly. ‘He works in the hospital and-’

‘And that’s enough out of you,’ Berta said, going pink. ‘Besides, he’s not my sweetheart. He’s-’ her happiness came bursting out ‘-he’s my fiance.’

The rest of the meal was taken up with a detailed description of the proposal she had received a few hours earlier, a conversation which they all enjoyed.

That night Holly donned one of her new nightgowns. It was flimsy and delicate, with a feel of such luxury that it seemed almost criminal to wear it in solitude. She thought of the plain cotton pyjamas that had always suited her before, and wondered if she would ever be satisfied with them again.

Sleeping in such luxury was a new, sensual experience. So was waking up in it. There was another sensual