‘And you carried on painting.’
‘Not right away. But you can’t make another person your purpose in life. I found that out when Filomena died.’
She gave him a sympathetic look.
‘So yes, after she died, I carried on painting, and I did do rather well. But now my fingers are stiff with arthritis and my publisher is coming over in a couple of monthsto see how far I’ve got.’ He raised his hands hopelessly. ‘I urgently need someone to help me choose and collate. Someone I like.’
She could feel her mouth falling open in surprise. ‘Me? I …’
‘Don’t decide straight away. Mull it over. I would pay you, of course, and I think it might take six months or so. Something like that. You can use my automobile if you need to get about.’
‘I don’t drive.’
‘Easily sorted.’
‘My typing isn’t brilliant either. My mother forced me to take classes, but a trained secretary might suit you better.’
He shook his head. ‘I need someone I trust, someone with the right heart for the job and I think it might help you too.’
‘I’m touched you think so. But … well … the thing is, I don’t know how to tell you this but I’m not who you think I am.’
He smiled indulgently and patted her hand. ‘My dear girl. I know who you are. You are Rosalie Delacroix, from Paris.’
Hearing her real name, tears stung Riva’s eyes, but she managed to stop them falling.
‘Don’t blame Bobby for telling me. Not for that anyway. I wheedled it out of him. And I have news about your family, too.’
Her hand flew to her mouth.
He told her there had been a high-profile policeinvestigation, but it transpired the entire thing had been a swindle. There had been no fraud, although her father’s hidden addiction to gambling had been exposed. He lost his job because of it, and because of that and his debts, they had been forced to sell the Paris apartment and her mother’s jewellery. They then moved to a small town in the countryside where they lived a much-reduced quiet life. Riva was relieved her father hadn’t gone to prison but felt desperately sad to think of his humiliation. And now, thinking of the life and people she’d left behind, the tears did fall.
CHAPTER 36
Malta, several months later
Riva hadn’t needed time to think about Addison’s offer and accepted it the day after he brought it up. She had put her work for Otto on pause but expected to resume at a later stage. Now the lovely little apartment had become her solace and the work she was doing with Addison her respite. All the time she’d been staying in Bobby’s apartment she had dreaded he might turn up with his American girl, despite his uncle’s warning to keep away. She had buried the grief over her lost baby; it hurt too much. And now she was living in her little upside-down house, doing her best not to dwell on Bobby’s betrayal. She still missed him though, still felt the crushing grief, the inconsolable loss, the memories, the anger. Never again would she wake up next to him and yet he was not dead, only lost to her.
She dressed carefully in a navy cotton dress and slipped into white high heels, wanting to make a good impression on Addison’s publisher, Gerard Macmillan. She wasn’t sure what to do about her hair. The dye was fading rapidly, and she had decided to go back to her natural bright red, but you could still see a dividing line. She found a blue and red scarf among her things and tied it turban-style round her head, grimaced as she looked in the mirror, added some red lipstick, then rubbed it off again. She wanted to look serious, not like a cabaret dancer from Strait Street.
Later, as she walked into Addison’s study after knocking on the door that divided his apartment from hers, he looked up at once and smiled.
‘Will I do?’ she asked, still feeling dubious.
‘Darling girl, you always look beautiful. Coffee?’
She nodded.
He rose and went to call the butler who brought them both coffee a few minutes later.
‘We don’t have long, because I need you to pick Gerard up.’
‘Oh God. Really?’
‘Think you can do it?’
She tipped her head and grinned at him.
A little later she set off in Addison’s beautiful car, petrified she might crash it, but determined to prove she could be trusted. Every day he’d taken her out for lessons along the quiet lanes in the countryside around Mdina and she had regularly driven to the nearby town of Rabat to buy groceries. This was the first time she had driven to Valletta harbour.
