She was an older woman, trim and not particularly tall with short silvery grey hair, anxious dark eyes and a heavily lined face. When she saw Zara she came to a sudden halt while Zara continued to stare, ensnared by a fleeting physical resemblance that took her very much by surprise.
‘You must be Zara,’ the woman breathed in accented English, her discomfiture unhidden. ‘Did Vitale tell you about me? I made him promise that he would keep me a secret but I knew it would be difficult for him—’
‘He didn’t break his promise,’ Zara admitted tautly, suddenly wishing she had stayed home, suddenly wishing she did not still suffer from that impulsive streak that invariably got her into trouble. ‘I must apologise for dropping in without an invitation. I’m afraid I couldn’t rest until I knew who was living here, who Vitale was seeing every Friday night …’
In the face of that explanation, the anxious expression on the other woman’s face eased somewhat.
‘Naturalmente … of course. Come in—Giuseppina will make us English tea.’ She spoke to the housekeeper in her own language before extending a hesitant hand. ‘I am Paola Roccanti.’
‘I thought you might be,’ Zara almost whispered, shock still winging through her in embarrassing waves as she lightly touched that uncertain hand. ‘Vitale has your eyes.’
Smiling as though that comment was a compliment, Paola took her into the lounge, smartly furnished now in contemporary style. ‘I should have allowed Vitale to tell you I was here. I can see now that I put him in a difficult position. That was not my intention. I simply didn’t want to embarrass you or him. I didn’t want you to feel that you had to acknowledge me—’
‘How could you embarrass me?’ Zara asked in bewilderment. ‘Why wouldn’t I acknowledge you?’
Paola sighed. ‘You’re married to my son. You must know how badly I let him down as a child. Many people despise me for the life I have led and I understand how they feel. I’ve taken drugs, lived on the streets, I’ve been in prison for stealing to feed my addiction—’
‘If Vitale wants to see you that is enough for me,’ Zara broke in quietly, feeling that such revelations were none of her business.
‘Since I came out of rehabilitation my son and I have been trying to get to know each other. It is not easy for either of us,’ his mother confessed with a regret that she couldn’t hide. ‘It is hard for Vitale not to judge me and sometimes I remember things that make it almost impossible for me to face him.’
‘I think it’s good that both of you are trying, though,’ Zara responded with tact as Giuseppina entered with a tray of tea.
Paola compressed her lips. ‘Coming to terms with my past and facing up to the mistakes I made is part of my recovery process. I attend Narcotics Anonymous meetings regularly,’ she explained. ‘I have a good sponsor and Vitale has been very supportive as well.’
‘That’s good.’ Still feeling awkward, Zara watched her companion pour the tea with a slightly trembling hand, her tension obvious.
‘On Fridays we usually go for a meal and we talk, sometimes about difficult things … like my daughter, Loredana,’ Paola continued quietly. ‘I have no memory of her beyond the age of six or seven when I left my first husband, Carlo. She visited twice when she was grown up but I was in no condition to speak to her and I can’t remember her—’
‘Vitale told me …’
‘You must know some of the bad things at least.’ Paola’s eyes were moist, her mouth tight with anxiety. ‘He could have died when he was a child. I think he often wished he had when he was younger. I deprived him of his true father and his inheritance and yet he puts me in a house like this and takes me out to dine in fancy restaurants as if I was still the respectable young woman who married his father … the woman I was before I became an addict. He says I can be whoever I want to be now.’
‘He’s right. You can be,’ Zara said gently, soothingly. It was impossible not to recognise how fragile Paola was and how weighed down she was with shame for her past mistakes. She found herself praying that the older woman did make it successfully through the recovery process and managed to stay off drugs.
Paola asked her about the garden and then offered to show it to her. Zara began to relax as they discussed the design and Vitale’s mother asked for advice on what to plant in the empty borders behind the villa. Paola had already visited a garden centre nearby. Zara was quick to suggest that they should go back there together the following week and she agreed a date and time while hoping that Vitale would approve and not think her guilty of interference.
It was late afternoon the next day before Vitale returned to the palazzo. Dressed in a simple white sundress, Zara was arranging an armful of lavender in a fat crystal vase in the hall. He strode through the door and came to a halt, brilliant dark eyes locking to her tiny figure, picking up straight away on the troubled look she shot at him. Her pregnancy was becoming obvious now, a firm swell that made her dress sit out like a bell above her slender shapely legs.
‘You can shout if you want,’ Zara told him ruefully.
An ebony brow rose. ‘Why would I shout?’
‘I went to see your mother. I assumed you’d already know.’
‘I did. Paola rang me as soon as you left the villa,’ Vitale confided with a wry smile. ‘She likes you very much and thinks I did very well for myself, which I already knew—’
‘But I went behind your back quite deliberately,’ Zara pointed out guiltily, keen to ensure that he had grasped exactly what she had done. ‘I just had to know where you went on Friday nights and who you were spending time with—’
‘It was hell not telling you but I didn’t want to spook Paola by forcing the issue. It took a lot of persuasion to get her to move into the villa. She’s afraid of encroaching on our lives and of embarrassing us—’
‘Are we that easily embarrassed?’
‘I’m not, if you’re not.’ His sardonic mouth hardened. ‘She lost thirty years of her life to drug abuse and she’s made a huge effort to overcome her problems. I think she deserves a fresh start.’
‘But you’ve found seeing her … difficult,’ she selected the word uneasily.
‘I didn’t like the secrecy and it does feel strange being with her. I never knew her when I was a child and from the age of eleven until this year I had no contact with her, nor did I want any. We have a lot of ground to catch up but I’ve learned stuff from her that I’m grateful to have found out,’ he admitted levelly, accompanying her up the marble staircase. ‘Do you mind if I go for a shower? I feel like I’ve been travelling all day.’