Page 43 of Far from Home
This came as a real surprise and Domenica was quick to explain.
‘It’s like I told you, Amy: Rolando and Martin were never close.’
‘Never close?’ His voice rose sharply but Amy saw him make a conscious effort to restrain himself as he stared at her. ‘There was only ever one child in his life and that was you.’ His eyes ran around the room again. ‘It’s just not right that he left this place to you and not us.’
Amy deliberately counted up to ten before replying, but before she could speak, Domenica cut in.
‘Just listen to yourself, Rolando. How can you be so greedy, so ungrateful? Who do you think paid for the house we live in? Who arranged for me to have more than enough money to keep both you and me comfortable for life? Who bought me my car, or you your shiny new motorbike? Shame on you.’
He gave no response but he was still looking like thunder. Although Amy had been expecting him to be far from cordial, his outburst had shaken her and she had to measure her words when she spoke to him.
‘You do know that I never met my father, don’t you, Rolando? Did your mother tell you that?’ In spite of her best efforts, all of a sudden the pent-up emotion began to pour out. ‘At least you saw him, spoke to him. All I have are a couple of letters, a handful of photos and this house. I’ll tell you this: I’d trade it all in an instant if it meant I could meet up with him, get to know him – just like you had the opportunity to do.’ Her eyes had filled with tears and she turned away. A large black shape materialised at her side and gave her a supportive prod with his cold wet nose. Behind her, she heard Rolando’s voice, this time less aggressive but sounding incredulous.
‘You really never met him? I can’t believe that.’
She concentrated her attention on the dog, who was looking up at her with deep concern in his eyes. ‘Well, whether you believe it or not, it’s true. Until a few weeks ago I hadn’t even heard his name, and until a few days ago I didn’t know he was my father.’ She steeled herself before turning back towards Rolando. ‘So if you feel hard done by, how do you think I feel?’
Taking heart from an expression of what might have been comprehension that appeared on his face, she ran the back of her hand across her eyes and carried on.
‘He must have been a complex man and my mother was every bit as emotionally screwed up as he was. Like it or not, Rolando, I’m your sister and I would dearly like to be able to get to know the brother I didn’t realise I had, but that’s up to you. If you want to blame our father’s behaviour on me there’s nothing I can do about it but, deep down, you have to know that I did nothing wrong. Now, I’ve got food in the oven, so please excuse me.’
Followed by the Labrador, she headed back to the kitchen where the automatic actions of readying the meal gradually calmed her down and steadied her hands, which were shaking after the confrontation.
That morning the fish van had been in the square and she had been able to buy six fat scallops. She threw them into a pan with some pieces of smoked ham for barely a minute on either side before turning them out and serving them with a salad of wild rocket, sliced shallots and Parmesan shavings as a starter. She was just about to carry the plates over to the table when she heard a low voice beside her.
‘Let me help you with those, Amy.’ It was Rolando and now he was using the familiar form of the language to address her. ‘I’m sorry for what I said just now. You have to understand what it was like growing up with a father who didn’t want me.’
She glanced around at him. ‘And you have to understand what it was like for me, growing up with no father at all.’
He had the grace to look a little shamed. ‘Like I say, I’m sorry. I just didn’t realise. All my life I’ve had this image of you living a happy life at my expense.’ His expression softened. ‘I now realise that you had it as tough as I did, maybe more so.’
Amy managed to produce a little smile. ‘Thank you for the apology. All I can say is that I would really like to get to know you. You are my little brother, after all.’
He smiled back at her. ‘And I promise I want to get to know you too… big sister.’
She felt a wave of relief. ‘Thank you, Rolando, I’d love that.’
The three of them sat at one end of her father’s big old table, and the scallops were pronounced delicious. The chicken was also well received and by the time they got to the cheese Amy was relieved and delighted that all had gone to plan. Signor Montalcino’s wine was as good as ever and, above all, the conversation around the table gradually picked up pace and her half-brother’s demeanour changed radically from confrontational to friendly. She was delighted to see Rolando begin to come out of his shell in the course of the meal and he was soon chatting freely. From time to time, she saw him laugh and when she looked at him there was often a smile on his face. Her little brother was definitely loosening up.
By the time they had finished her attempt at apricot tart and custard, Amy reckoned they had all had more than enough to eat and she could rate the evening a success – not just for the food but for the distinct thawing in relations between her half-brother and herself. The party broke up at eleven. As Amy kissed Rolando goodnight, she wished him well. He thanked her and when he suggested meeting up for coffee one of these days, she was quick to accept, even as a voice in her head whispered that she wouldn’t be in Italy for much longer.
Chapter 25
The following night Adam came to pick her up at seven thirty. By the time she heard his car outside she had changed outfits three times and she was still checking herself in the mirror nervously. Taking a deep breath, she went across and opened the door.
When she did so, Max realised that he was being visited by his new buddy and jumped to his feet remarkably nimbly. He rushed to greet Adam, and Amy followed behind and waited until Adam had finished making a fuss of the happy dog, who by now was stretched out on his back on the floor, tail wagging. When Adam straightened up, he shot an appreciative look at her.
‘Ciao, Amy, you look great.’
He looked pretty good as well but she just gave him a big smile and went over to kiss him on the cheeks. ‘Ciao, bello. Are you feeling more rested now?’
‘Much better, thanks.’ He glanced outside. ‘Shall we go?’
The restaurant occupied a slightly shabby stone building in a delightful little hilltop village about ten kilometres to the southeast and they were shown to a table outside on the terrace. Here they were sheltered from the setting sun beneath a rickety timber framework almost completely submerged beneath luxuriant vines with bunches of young grapes already formed and hanging above their heads. Amy kept Max on the lead but he behaved remarkably well and settled down under the table at their feet without objection. She hoped he would continue like that for the rest of the evening. Once she was sure he was behaving, she looked around and took in the panorama.
The village occupied a commanding position and from the restaurant terrace they had a spectacular view south towards the heart of Tuscany. Rolling hills, many carpeted with vineyards and olive groves, were dotted with isolated villas surrounded by cypress trees. The setting sun bathed everything in a surreal red glow and Amy breathed deeply. It was gorgeous. She looked back across the table to Adam. ‘What a super location. Didn’t you say you brought my father here?’
‘That’s right, but he was the one who introduced it to me originally. We came here quite a few times. He was like me; he liked simple places without a lot of fuss.’ He grinned. ‘But don’t be fooled. Although it looks quaint and old-fashioned, the food’s terrific – especially the fish.’
