* * *
‘Hey, Cammie. How are you and my gorgeous niece doing?’ Angelo asked his sister.
‘Fine.’
He coughed. ‘This is a video call, Cammie. I can see your face.’
His sister looked around, and whispered, ‘Mamma’s fussing is driving me insane!’
‘She’s just worried about you.’
‘Remember when she had that two weeks in London playing Lucia di Lammermoor in Covent Garden and stayed with you? Imagine that, times a thousand.’
Angelo couldn’t suppress a grin.
‘It’s not funny, Angelo. Just you wait until you have—’ She stopped, her face stricken.
Yeah. He knew what she’d almost said. Until you have a baby and Mamma decides she has to stay with you for a month to ‘help out’. Except he couldn’t actually have children. Which was why Stephanie had dumped him; and he’d been wary about starting another relationship since. What was the point, when he couldn’t give a woman what she really wanted—when he’d totally failed at being a husband? Much better to avoid the risk of rejection and not let anyone else into his life.
‘I’m sorry, Angelo. I didn’t mean—’
‘I know you didn’t, Cammie. It’s OK,’ he cut in. ‘Really. I was just calling to see how you all are. And I hope to come up to see you next week. It’s about time I met my niece. Serafina’s two weeks old already.’
‘I’ll understand if you don’t w—’
‘Of course I want to come and see her, Cammie. She’s yours and Ed’s. I can’t wait to meet her.’ And he meant it. He’d ignore the fact that his heart ached for what might have been. For the babies he’d never have.
‘You can really get the time off work to come and see us?’
‘I’m delegating a lot and I’m working out of the office as much as I can,’ Angelo said. ‘I want to spend time with Nonno.’ While he was still here.
‘I’d love to bring the baby to see him,’ Camilla said, ‘except I worry it might be too much for him.’
‘And for you and Serafina,’ Angelo said, mindful that Serafina had been a month premature. ‘You must be worn out with night feeds and nappy changes.’
‘I’m a bit sleep-deprived,’ his sister admitted. ‘But I’ll manage. Mamma says that Mariana Thackeray has agreed to look at Nonno’s paintings.’
‘I’m bringing her to Florence tomorrow. And hopefully seeing the paintings at the palazzo will convince her to take the job,’ Angelo said. ‘And then keep your fingers crossed that we can find everything out we need for Nonno. Get that painting authenticated.’ In the few weeks they had left before their grandfather died.
‘Even if it doesn’t work out,’ Camilla said gently, ‘you’ve done your best, and he’ll know that. It’s enough, Angelo.’
No, it wasn’t. But he wasn’t going to make her miserable by arguing.
‘Let me know when you’re coming. I can’t wait to see you.’
‘I will. Lots of love to you all,’ Angelo said, and tried to ignore the guilt he felt at not supporting his sister better.
It was just... Babies.
To distract himself, he moved a couple of books on the shelves; and then he wished he hadn’t when a small cardboard wallet fell onto the floor.
He knew exactly what was in it.
He knew he shouldn’t look.
And yet he couldn’t help opening the wallet and taking them out. Photographs that an old family friend had taken on their wedding day and sent copies.
How young they looked. How happy. Literally glowing with joy, Stephanie’s golden hair bright in the sunlight.
And how easily it had all faded. How quickly love—or what he had thought was love—had vanished, submerged beneath Stephanie’s need for a baby. Lovemaking had turned from a spontaneous joy to a clinical planning of having sex at the most fertile times in her cycle.
When two years of trying to have a baby had ended in failure, they’d gone for tests. They’d both been shocked to discover that, thanks to a bout of mumps nobody really remembered him having as a young child, Angelo was practically infertile. The only way they’d have a baby of their own was with the help of gruelling IVF treatment which had no guarantee of success; the odds were one in four.