He held her tight, and she rested her head against him, almost falling asleep. After a while he shook her gently. ‘Time to look for adghaisa,’he said.
They found one easily and as they were taken out on the water, she looked back at the town. And then, as the fat morning sun came up, it painted everything pink and the battlements gradually turned red, scarlet even. ‘Ah,’ she whispered. ‘Just as if they are on fire. Isn’t Malta the most wonderful place on earth?’
CHAPTER 32
Malta, 1929
Time, the years, and life moved on. Now Riva was sitting alone, decked in beads, feathers and ribbons, feeling tawdry and listening to the sounds of stomping feet coming from the dance hall and drunken men shouting the odds in the street. Worse than unwholesome, the place was turning her stomach. She hadn’t been to the doctor, after all she wasn’t married, but already curvaceous and even more so recently, she was certain she was pregnant.
‘All right, darling?’ Tommy-O said as he made himself comfortable on the stool next to her and tipped his head to one side. ‘You look a bit blue.’
‘I’m twenty-three and sick to death of the smell of smoke, beer, fried fish and garlic.’
‘Oh dear. You’ve got it bad.’
‘Got what?’
‘The “there must be a better life than this-itis”.’
He was right. She had become repulsed by the brightly coloured lights and the artificial enchantment that was not enchanting at all. It was killing her, and she had to find the courage to make a change before it became clear she was carrying a baby.
Tommy-O stood up and patted her on the shoulder. ‘We all go through it sooner or later. And now, my love, I have to slip into something fabulous.’
She blew him a kiss. ‘See you later.’
She and Bobby had been happy together since 1925 – four years now – but he had missed their last date almost two weeks before with no explanation and she had been worrying ever since. It wasn’t that their relationship had been all plain sailing. Like any couple they squabbled, argued, irritated each other. She could be fiery, opinionated, and at those times he had been mainly conciliatory, which only made her worse, but they always made up and survived his absences in England and her difficult working hours. She had planned to tell him she was pregnant the day he hadn’t turned up and really needed to tell him soon.
And now that she was growing more and more jaded with the dancing life, and had a baby on the way, she didn’t know what to do. Strait Street was cheap and gaudy, but Bobby was still the one light at the end of the tunnel, although she still enjoyed the bits and pieces of detective work she did for Otto.
On the second day off after Bobby hadn’t turned up, she was determined to track him down. In all the yearsthey’d been together he’d always been as good as his word, always letting her know if he was held up, always telling her if he was going to be away. So, what had happened? She had no idea how he’d feel about a baby. She had no idea howshefelt about a baby. Part of her was thrilled, but they had never discussed marriage and the thought of having a child out of wedlock terrified her.
They’d often talked about life and how best to live it. ‘Grasp hold of every chance,’ was his mantra. ‘Make every single day count.’
They talked about commitment and he always confirmed how much he loved her, buying her presents, taking her wherever she wanted to go and these days in public too. Nobody gave them a second glance. She accompanied him to cocktail parties at Addison’s in Mdina, spent time in the apartment there, and met all sorts of interesting people, elegant men, glamorous women, the rich, the not-so-rich but entertaining. But Bobby never mentioned marriage and neither did she. It hadn’t seemed to matter. They were young with their whole lives before them. He knew her real name and that she’d run away from Paris. She told him she wanted to be more than just the wife and mother her own mother had insisted she was born to be.
‘I’m not going to fall into the trap my sister Claudette has,’ she’d said defiantly. ‘It will never be enough for me.’ Now she wondered if that had been a mistake. Should she have sounded so adamant? She wished she’d said more about her parents and her childhood, explained more about what she meant.
And now where was he and why hadn’t he let her know?
She tried not to worry but failed. Apart from feeling nauseous there was a pain in her chest that didn’t quite go away. A breath she couldn’t quite draw. A feeling of life being on pause. She wandered disconsolately through Valletta’s main thoroughfares squinting into the bright light as if by doing so she might conjure him tucked away somewhere and waiting for her. As luck would have it, she found Lottie sitting in the window of one of the nicer cafés. Her friend smiled, beckoned her in.
Inside, Riva pulled up a chair. ‘I just called at your apartment,’ she said.
‘Someone else lives there now. Archie still has his ‘bachelor’ pad, as you obviously know because Bobby stays there, but we have a house on Gozo now.’
‘That’s what I thought Bobby said, but I hadn’t seen you around for ages, so I called at the apartment on the off-chance.’
‘You were looking for me?’
‘In a manner of speaking. I’m actually looking for Bobby.’
Lottie coloured slightly and fidgeted in her seat.
‘What?’ said Riva.
Lottie pulled a face. ‘It’s tricky.’
‘Come on. If you know something, tell me. We are still friends, aren’t we?’
