Chapter Twenty-Two #2
The next couple of hours passed in a welter of establishing that the guest, once she’d come round, at least knew she was Gwyneth Robertson, holidaying with her sister, Doreen.
Calling an ambulance. Calling Doreen, who, unfortunately, had taken a ferry to Torno.
Jade really had no choice but to accompany Gwyneth to Ospedale Valduce, glad that it was accepting emergencies as the larger Ospedale Sant’Anna was further away.
From the waiting room, she tried ringing Leo. He didn’t answer. She left a garbled, apologetic voicemail, explaining her emotional brain fart after a long period of stress. He didn’t reply.
It was early evening before poor Gwyneth’s sister finally arrived at the hospital, tearful to learn of concussion and X-rays.
Jade stayed another half-hour, uncomfortable at leaving Doreen upset, who said fearfully, ‘But I don’t speak Italian,’ over and over, despite the sympathetic medical staff plainly speaking English to her.
Eventually she calmed down sufficiently for a nurse to take her to Gwyneth’s side, supplied with a bottle of water and Jade’s personal phone number in case of need.
Finally, Jade was free to trail down Via Alighieri towards the lake and then along to Villa Panorama.
Looking neither left nor right as she trudged through the hotel on weary legs, she prayed not to encounter any of the Sartori family except for Leo.
In the gardens, a few guests enjoyed coffee in the cool of the evening.
At the gate, she input the code and traipsed through.
Up the cobbled path. Elbow right. Up. Elbow left.
But when she reached Villetta Nascosta she found it locked, with no light showing.
Despondently, she flopped down on a chair on the terrace and tried to call Leo again. It rang out. She sat there, staring into the gathering twilight, barely noticing the garden glowing apricot with the setting sun. Finally, she saw a familiar figure approaching slowly up the zigzag path.
But not Leo. Sheenagh.
Jade rose. ‘I can’t find Leo. We had . . . an argument.’
Sheenagh halted. ‘So I gather. He’s gone storming back to the UK.’ A note of accusation hung on the evening air.
‘Oh,’ Jade answered blankly. ‘To see Isabella?’ Her mind flew back to the way he’d told Teddy off on the phone for breaking up their relationship.
And he’d initially left Isabella out when telling Erin and Rosalie about the fraud against him, as if protecting her. Jade had tried not to mind, but . . .
Sheenagh shrugged. ‘He wouldn’t tell me. I thought you’d keep him in Como,’ she grumbled.
Jade was stung by Sheenagh turning disagreeable again, just when they’d put snitty behaviour behind them.
‘That’s twice I’ve failed, then.’ Brushing past the older woman, she dragged herself off to Three Sisters, uncaring if she’d been rude, or how upset Gran would have been.
Tears burned. It wasn’t great that Leo had stalked off to the UK – even if it might be with good reason, if Isabella was falling apart with the stress of being ripped off by her dad.
But Jade had assumed the worst of him. She was to blame.
Finally, she reached the apartment and slumped onto a sofa in the salotto, miserable and tired. Wretchedly, she closed her eyes.
Perhaps she drifted into a doze, because she startled at the sound of an unfamiliar text tone.
Blinking, her gaze searched the coffee table, floor and window ledge.
Finally, Rosalie’s lilac-coloured handset gleamed at her from between the sofa cushions.
She fished it out. Should she call Erin, in case the two were together?
Or leave it on Rosalie’s bed? But then a notification leapt out at her from the screen.
Let me know how it went. Dad.
Jade’s stomach cartwheeled. How surreal that Joey messaged Rosalie so casually.
From any other father, it would have seemed an innocent catch-up with his child’s news.
But from Joey, who’d been ungenerous with contact with his loving mother and had actively avoided two of his daughters?
It was an insult. In her current shitty mood, it slid a blade of anger through her middle, allowing all the bile she’d suppressed for so long to boil out.
The phone was scratched and worn. It wasn’t recent enough for facial or fingerprint recognition.
Jade had noticed Rosalie tapping out her PIN and that it had made a distinct pattern: the four corner numbers, bottom first, right to left, and then the centre number twice.
Tentatively, heart skipping, she tried it.
Nine-seven-three-one-five-five. The home screen sprang to life.
She should have put the phone down then and walked away with a mental apology to Rosalie for the intrusion.
But instead . . . she entered Contacts and scrolled down to Dad.
As if someone else controlled her finger, she tapped and watched, fascinated, as the display changed to calling.
For her whole life she’d accepted Joey’s wish for no contact, refusing to grant Mairead’s request that Jade make the first move.
Yet any moment now . . . he could answer his phone.
The ringtone sounded once. Twice. Three times.
This is wrong. Panicking, she made to end the call. But then the ringtone was replaced by a deep, impatient voice with a faint Italian accent. ‘You didn’t need to call. I just wanted to know if the formalities went through.’
Jade began to shake. In Italian, she whispered, ‘It’s not Rosalie, it’s Jade.’
Silence.
She couldn’t keep back a snarky, ‘You once got Geneva Gallo pregnant. I’m the result.’
More silence. Then, gruffly, quietly, he replied, ‘I don’t know what to say.’ He didn’t sound embarrassed. More searching for pointers.
She licked her lips. ‘You could ask how I am. How are you?’
‘I’m fine. How are you?’ he asked, like a student parroting simple phrases in a language class.
‘Well . . .’ Jade pretended to consider. ‘It’s been a difficult summer with Gran dying and me discovering your other children. But I’ll cope.’
Rather than respond to the mention of his mother’s death, he sounded cautiously intrigued. ‘Do you want something from me?’
Jade examined that question. Did she? ‘Not really,’ she said aloud.
‘Curiosity got the better of me. Listening to Rosalie talk about you, a real man emerged. An extremely flawed man, it’s true, but a human.
Just like my flawed, human mother, who abandoned me too, yet I met recently.
When I saw your name on Rosalie’s phone, I dialled on impulse. Goodbye.’
Gently, she ended the call and sat cradling the phone, her heart careering around her chest as she tried to analyse his demeanour. Intrigued? Yes. Interested? Maybe hesitantly. Shocked. Uncertain. Wrong-footed.
Then, from the doorway, came Rosalie’s voice. In Italian, she said, ‘Feel better now you’ve made him feel bad? You knew he’d answer a call from my phone.’
Jade jumped. The phone flew from her hand. Stupidly she said, ‘Tu parli italiano.’
‘My dad’s Italian,’ Rosalie replied sarcastically, stepping forward to snatch her phone. ‘I didn’t mention it because you didn’t ask. You asked Erin, but I expect you didn’t think I’d be educated enough.’
Jade screwed up her face, trying to remember. ‘I don’t think I thought about it. I’m sorry if that felt like a judgement, or dismissive,’ she added belatedly.
Rosalie lifted one eyebrow. ‘But not sorry for invading my privacy by using my phone and calling Dad without checking how he’d feel?’
‘Um, those too.’ Jade nodded. Then, truthfully, ‘Not particularly sorry if I upset him. I owe him nothing.’
Rosalie dropped down beside Jade. ‘So you expect to be cut some slack?’
Gloomily, Jade propped her head on her hand. ‘That would be a novelty. Dealing with whatever comes my way is more my thing.’
Rosalie sighed, her face relaxing into its usual friendly lines. ‘OK. You work like a horse. And we were a huge, unwelcome shock. And you miss Gran.’
Jade’s throat tightened. ‘Yeah. Even though she told me not to.’
Rosalie switched back to English. ‘Do you want to know what she told me in her letter?’
Instantly, Jade sat up. ‘I knew she left a letter for Erin. I didn’t ask you after you made such a point of saying you and Joey didn’t like people nosing into your business.’
‘I’ll fetch it.’ Rosalie rose.
In a minute she returned, Erin in tow, though Jade hadn’t known she was even in the apartment. Probably she’d overheard angry voices and kept out of the way. ‘Erin wants to share her letter too.’ Evidently, Rosalie was back to her usual cheerful self.
Erin’s eyes were watchful, though her lips smiled.
Jade swallowed. ‘Then I’ll share mine.’ On oddly wobbly legs, she crossed the tiled passage and retrieved the folded letter from her bedside drawer. Back in the salotto, she found Rosalie waiting on the sofa and Erin on a chair.
‘How about Erin reading them aloud?’ said Rosalie. ‘She has the most Scottish voice. I know you’re from the opposite coast of Scotland,’ she continued, when Erin began to demur, ‘but you sound more Scottish than Jade.’