Francesca showed him out. ‘Please don’t go far.’
‘I’ll be just here. Don’t worry.’ He checked the coast was clear before kissing her gently on the lips. ‘We’ll sort it out.’
‘And thank you also for the apartment.’ Francesca gave an appreciative smile and made her way back to Elena’s bedside, where she perched on the edge of the mattress. ‘I’m so sorry, Mamma. I never wanted this to happen to you.’
Their eyes locked. ‘This wasn’t your fault. It was a terrible accident.’ Elena sighed again. ‘This business about London . . .’
‘Mamma, let me explain.’
‘No. I’ll talk first. The fact that all three of you kept this from me for so long is incredibly hurtful and unfair.’
‘I know—’
‘But what hurts most is that this situation shows what you really think of me. Perhaps all three of you.’ Elena, who was stoic at the best of times, suddenly melted into tears.
The doctor, who had been preparing his plaster bandages at a table by the window, cleared his throat and excused himself.
‘Mamma. Things haven’t been good between us for a very long time. We . . . we felt we had no other choice.’
‘And your father?’
Giacomo wasn’t there to speak up on his own behalf. But in the spirit of their sacred relationship, Francesca spoke only the truth. ‘It was Papà who suggested we use the cover of the English lessons to get me across the line. So I could study a more refined, complex . . . well, study what I couldn’t learn from Papà and Impastino.’
Elena’s eyes closed and she shook her head. ‘What’s happened to us? This isn’t what I want.’
Francesca edged her way closer up the mattress and gently patted Elena’s bruised, scratched hands. ‘Me either.’
And there, in that little room which smelled of lavender-scented disinfectant and musty linen, a truce was called.
‘I do love you, Cesca. You may not believe me.’
‘I know you do.’ Francesca moved to sit beside Elena, sharing her pillow. As her head dropped to rest on Elena’s shoulder, she said, ‘I love you too.’
‘We will have to offer half-days in the trattoria until I’m healed. We can alternate between lunch and dinner services.’
‘No, Mamma. This happened because of me. I’ll just work right through. Nonna can help with the prep and wash-up.’
‘You’re not doing double service on your own! That’s ridiculous. Half-service. And perhaps for the first time ever we don’t open on Sundays.’
‘Sorry to interrupt.’ Alessio’s head poked through the door. ‘May I?’ Francesca nodded. ‘I happened to overhear. Don’t worry about any of this. It’s not necessary.’
‘There’s no other way, Ale,’ said Francesca firmly.
‘Yes there is. I’ll cook with you.’
‘What?’ Francesca scrambled from the bed to his side. ‘Alessio, you’re not ready for the kitchen. You told me yourself.’
‘I know. I remember.’ His hands balled themselves in his pockets. ‘But that was before.’
Elena raised an eyebrow. ‘Before what?’
‘Before you saved me, Francesca.’
‘But I . . .’
‘You did. You made the kitchen a safe and exciting place for me again. And if that means I get to ease back into this world with you by my side, then I’m in.’
To her astonishment, Francesca suddenly thought she might cry. A tidal wave of pride filled her to the point of rupture. ‘Oh, Alessio. Are you truly sure?’
