She nuzzled his cheek and smelt his skin, his hair. Bobby. Her Bobby. And this time forever.
CHAPTER 48
Riva and Bobby chose the old stone-built church of Santa Maria Ta’ Doni in Rabat for their wedding. A gorgeous little sixteenth-century church, not ostentatious but with lovely frescoed walls and a beautiful vaulted ceiling. Addison would give her away, and a few of their closest friends, including Otto, Tommy-O and a couple of Bobby’s RAF pals would be among the guests. They planned a simple affair, with a small reception to be held in Addison’s apartment and they kept very quiet about it. Gerry sent a telegram with warmest wishes for their happiness, sad that the war prevented him from being there. Dear Gerry, Riva thought, dear, dear man.
‘But what shall I wear?’ she complained as she sat with Bobby on Addison’s terrace.
Addison was just coming out and overheard her. ‘One moment. I have a solution to that,’ he said and went back inside.
Bobby reached across and kissed her. Joy bubbled up inside her and spread tingling and fizzing throughout her body. They had reached a new frontier in their relationship. There was vulnerability – how could there not be with the war still raging? – but Riva felt little fear. The days of intoxication were long gone but this quieter love was a revelation. Of course, she had found a way to forgive him, but she’d only been able to do it because she’d allowed herself, with his help, to feel how much he really had hurt her. And she had encouraged him to forgive himself too. Brick by brick she’d removed the barriers she’d spent so long erecting, and now they were both living in the present, still with an uncertain future, but everyone shared that, didn’t they?
Addison came back out with a long dress in palest sea-glass green draped over his arm. ‘This was my wife’s. It’s silk, designed, embroidered and made in Paris. We can get it to altered to fit you.’
She rose to her feet and touched it. ‘Oh Addison. It’s exquisite but are you sure? I don’t really mind what I wear.’
‘No, my dear. You must look your best on your wedding day. It’s an order. And you’ll be doing me a favour. The dress has spent far too long hanging in my wardrobe. It’s yours now.’
She took it from him. ‘Bobby shouldn’t really see it though.’
‘Close your eyes, nephew,’ he ordered. ‘Come, Riva. Let’s see how it looks on you.’
They went down to Bobby’s apartment and Riva tried on the dress in the bathroom. When she came out toshow it to Addison, he looked as if he were lost in the past. Then he shook himself out of it and smiled.
‘You look beautiful. But since I first met you, my dear, you’ve lost weight.’
‘I know. We all have, haven’t we?’
‘There’s a woman in Rabat who makes my shirts. I’m sure she can take it in a little here and there. Come back when you’re next off duty and I’ll make sure she’s here.’
‘No need. I’ve given in my notice at the war rooms.’
He looked surprised. ‘Oh.’
‘We haven’t told them we’re getting married, but if they knew, Bobby and I wouldn’t be allowed to work on the same watch. And if we were on different watches, we’d rarely see each other, so it seems the right thing to do.’
‘Well, you’ve already done your bit what with delivering babies and everything else.’
She laughed. ‘I didn’t do a thing.’
He laughed and wagged his finger. ‘False modesty. Now have you thought about a bouquet?’
She shook her head. ‘Not really.’
‘Will you leave it to me? Any preference for colour? I rather think something red or orange to go with your extraordinary hair. Thank God this marvellous island is still blessed with flowers. The Germans can’t take that away.’
He came over to touch her hair which, long now, tumbled to her shoulders in her natural fiery red. She smiled, delighted by Addison’s involvement in all this. With her marriage they would become family, of course, but he was already more than a father to her.
On a beautiful bright day in May, a day filled only with enchantment and love, Riva and Bobby married. The ceremony was brief, over quickly, but then came the reception. As everyone trooped up to Addison’s apartment, smiling and happy, you could almost have believed there was no war, there were no bombs, no deaths, no grinding fear. Life was as it had once been with light-hearted chatter, unrestrained laughter, raising of glasses and toasts, so many toasts. The scent of roses and tobacco drifted in the air and the simple country food was delicious. Addison had opened his wine cellar, the hundreds of bottles accumulated over many years, so despite the deprivations on the island the champagne flowed. Riva saw herself and Bobby together for ever and blew him a kiss across the room, imagining herself in bed with him later. His face glowed with happiness and she knew nothing could break their bond now. And as she stood on Addison’s terrace all she could feel as she gazed out across the spring green fields was hope, and the kind of spaciousness she’d rarely known before. This time their love would not stall. This time she had absolute faith in him and in herself.
The summer and autumn passed.
After days of bruised purple skies, endless rain and violent storms, the sky had been washed clean and when Christmas Eve came it was sunny and bright. Bobby, Addison and Riva took akarozzin, or cab, along with throngs of other people to the Porta Reale. The evening air thrummed with the scent of incense and the chanting that rose up along the streets of Valletta. The churches were overflowing and as they entered the bombedCarmelite church in Old Theatre Street they glanced up and saw stars. It seemed significant. Special. That amid the destruction the stars still shone down on them.
All the churches were packed with kneeling people who, heads bowed, were praying for deliverance and the end of war. Riva, followed by Bobby and Addison, squeezed into the back of the baroque church of Our Lady of Victory. Inside it glowed, golden and bright, from the dozens of altar candles. Riva felt tears pricking her eyes and reached for Bobby’s hand. The hope in the human heart was truly incredible.
CHAPTER 49
Ten days later, while Bobby had gone into Valletta for a lunch appointment with one of his RAF colleagues, Riva heard the sound of an air raid over Valletta. She crossed her fingers and told herself it would be fine. But an hour or so later she heard a knock at their apartment door. It was January and cold, so she threw on her robe and went to open up.
