The Italian's Rightful Bride. Lucy Gordon
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saw a little girl upstairs,’ Joanna ventured.
‘That would be Renata,’ Carlo said at once. ‘Gustavo’s daughter.’ He sighed. ‘Poor child.’
‘Why poor? Is she jealous now that she has a little brother?’
Carlo looked around and dropped his voice.
‘Gustavo’s divorce has just become final. The little boy wasn’t his, and his wife has taken the child to live with her lover.’
Joanna drew in a sharp breath.
‘His—you mean Crystal?’
‘Yes; do you know her?’
‘We met briefly many years ago, but I haven’t stayed in touch. I didn’t know this.’
‘As you can imagine, it’s hit Gustavo very hard, so we don’t talk about it. But I thought you should know the situation.’
‘Yes,’ she said slowly. ‘Yes, I’m glad you warned me.’
Carlo didn’t seem to notice anything odd in her manner.
‘When you’re ready we’ll go and see the dig,’ he said. ‘It’s about a mile away.’
‘I can’t wait.’
As soon as she saw the discovery Joanna knew she had come to the right place. Her personal feelings didn’t matter. This was the find of the century, and it had to be hers.
From the corner of her eye she could see Renata and Billy. They seemed to have established perfect rapport, and she was showing him around the site, pointing out places of interest. After a while they strolled away together.
She spent the rest of the day with Carlo, becoming more convinced that this really was the great lost palace Gustavo had spoken of. At dinner that evening she met Laura, a smiling, middle-aged woman who looked after Renata. To Joanna’s amusement Billy turned his charm on her and within minutes Laura was lost.
‘You and Renata seem to get on well,’ she said to him as they climbed the stairs later that night.
‘She’s been telling me about Prince Gustavo,’ Billy said, frowning. ‘Honestly, Mum, he’s a monster. You know her mother’s gone?’
‘Yes, Carlo told me.’
‘Apparently he drove her out and wouldn’t let Renata go with her. He actually grabbed hold of Renata and kept her here by force. She says he’s full of hate and he’s taking it out on her.’
‘Billy, I don’t believe that,’ she said at once.
‘Why?’ he asked.
‘Well—’
‘Why not, Mum? You always said, “Stick to the evidence.” Where’s the evidence that Renata’s wrong?’
She was caught, since she could hardly say that she’d known Gustavo and this wasn’t like him. And how well had she known him?
‘Sometimes I wish I hadn’t brought you up to be so logical,’ she sighed.
‘Too late now.’
‘Let’s wait and hear the evidence for the other side,’ she countered.
‘That’s right, Mum. When he gets here you ask him what really happened.’
‘Go to bed,’ she said firmly. ‘And stop being cheeky.’
He gave his wicked grin. ‘It’s too late for that too,’ he said, and vanished into his room before she could think of an answer.
Within two days Joanna had assembled a crack team, all of them people who had worked with her on other digs. Plunging into work was a relief. It took her mind off Gustavo and the situation she’d found.
She resisted the picture Billy had drawn, of a man so enraged that he cruelly penalised his child. But she, more than anyone, knew how he’d adored Crystal, and how her desertion must have devastated him. What had bitterness and misery done to him?
She could hardly believe that Renata was Gustavo and Crystal’s child since she looked like neither of them. Her little face lacked any hint of her mother’s beauty, being round and plump. Joanna, who remembered her own childhood, when she’d felt plain and dull, sympathised with her.
But Renata’s eyes were intelligent. She would sit with Billy and his mother, sharing their snack, but saying nothing until suddenly, like the bursting of a dam, she would make an awkward attempt to reach out.
‘Billy told me about his father,’ she blurted out once. ‘He says you’re divorced.’
‘Yes, we are,’ Joanna said gently.
‘My parents are divorced.’
‘I’ve heard.’
‘Billy says his father’s always calling him on his cellphone.’
‘That’s right. Several times a week.’
‘My mother calls me every single day,’ Renata said defiantly. ‘She bought me a cellphone just for the two of us, because she says she couldn’t get through the day without talking to me.’
‘That’s a lovely thing for her to say.’
‘Sometimes she cries because Papa won’t let us be together. But Mamma says one day she’s going to come and rescue me, and then we’re going to run away to the end of the world, where Papa can’t find us.’
Her voice had been growing more wobbly as she spoke, until she was forced to stop. Joanna saw her turn away to wipe her eyes, and wondered if she was weeping because of her father’s unkindness or because she knew it was all a fantasy. She felt helpless.
Billy had listened to this, saying nothing, but watching Renata with kindly eyes. At last he drew her away, giving his mother a brief nod, as if to say that he would take over now.
He’s years older than ten, she thought with a wry smile.
As the days wore on the heat mounted until the afternoons were almost unbearable.
‘All right, guys, time for a break,’ she called out one day when it was nearly one o’clock. ‘Take a siesta; come back when it’s cooler.’
They headed for the house, eager to find shade. As often before, Joanna didn’t go with them. She loved being left alone with the work, not doing anything, simply absorbing the past.
She brushed earth from her clothes, thankful that she’d worn wide canvas trousers that let in some air to cool her legs. Over them she had a man’s shirt, tied at the waist with one of Freddy’s old ties that she kept for the purpose. Her head was protected by a vast-brimmed canvas hat.
She loved to stretch out in the warmth, even though someone as fair-skinned as herself had to work hard not to be burned. Years of working in the sun had turned her a permanent light brown, and bleached her hair.
She kicked off her old canvas shoes and lay flat on the ground, arms flung wide, head obliterated by the huge hat. She supposed she looked like a hobo, but she didn’t care. This was bliss.
Beginning to doze, she was only vaguely aware of a car stopping nearby. She sensed rather than heard someone looming over her then dropping to one knee.
‘Go away,’ she muttered. ‘I’m asleep.’
‘Excuse me…’
The man’s voice was polite but firm, and there was power in the hand that grasped her shoulder. Reluctantly Joanna moved the hat aside and looked up.
At first she couldn’t see properly. His head blotted out the sun, throwing his face into darkness.
‘Who are you?’ she asked, grumpy at being disturbed.
But she knew before he replied. Her vision was clearing and the face gazing