23. Louise

I slept badly. Seeing Marco in the flesh had floored me. It wasn’t just that he had Clara’s nose, he had her smile – her beautiful crooked smile that she didn’t give away easily, but when she did, it was as if the sun was shining on you. Obviously I was glad Marco seemed like a good, steady man, but now I had to deal with the reality of introducing a stranger – albeit her biological father – into Clara’s life. His English was poor, he’d have to work on that, and Clara and I would have to learn Italian.

I also had to be very careful about Marco’s expectations. He needed to understand that I would be controlling access, and that if Clara did not warm to him, he would be out of her life again. Her happiness was the only thing that mattered. My head throbbed from lack of sleep and stress. I had worked so hard to give Clara the best life and to get her to the best place. I was terrified of Marco messing things up. I’d really have to assess his suitability today. I wished for the millionth time that Mum was still alive. She would give me the best advice and help calm my nerves about this whole palaver. It was nice having Dad there, but he had behaved very oddly in the bar, like some kind of Mafia boss. I don’t know what got into him, but I needed him to calm down and let me do the talking today.

I gave up on sleeping and got up early to go for a run. As I ran up the narrow, cobbled lane away from the hotel, the sun rose from behind the distant Apennine mountains. The golden light spread across the surrounding hills, which were covered with olive trees and grape vines. It was utterly breathtaking. I stopped and took it all in. I breathed deeply and began to feel less anxious. I could do this. I could make it work. I had no choice now. I had done what Clara had begged me to do. I had taken the note as a sign from Mum and I had found Marco. I’d told him about his daughter and now I had to make him comply with my terms.

By the time I got back from my run, showered, dressed and headed down for breakfast, it was almost nine. Dad was sitting at the table looking like he hadn’t slept much either, but there was no sign of my sisters. I drank the rich dark coffee, embracing the kick it gave me, and ate the warm, freshly baked bread slathered in butter.

‘How are you feeling this morning, pet?’ Dad asked.

‘Shattered and apprehensive about meeting Marco. I’ve been texting back and forth with him this morning and we’ve agreed that I’ll go over to his farm at ten to meet his mother, see the olive farm and have a private chat with him. He’s desperate for me to meet his mother and show her the photos.’

Dad stirred sugar into his coffee. ‘I reckon it’s a good sign that he’s close to her and wants her to be involved in the discovery of his daughter. It shows that he respects her. Sure, look at Gavin and your mother. They were very close.’

‘I suppose so, but is it not a bit strange that he lives with her? He must be fifty-plus.’

‘It’s different with farms. In rural Ireland lots of different generations of families live together on farms. They all help run them.’

He had a point. This wasn’t suburban Dublin: it was a small village in the hills.

‘I’d forgotten how spectacular Italy is. I came here with your mum before you were born. We spent a few days in Rome and then we came to a village like this one, but not as far out, for two nights. Great memories. We always said we’d come back, but sure, life got in the way and it won’t happen now.’

Dad and I were not touchy-feely, but I reached out and held his hand. ‘I feel her close to me,’ I admitted. ‘I feel her here, cheering me on. Does that sound mad?’

‘Not at all. I talk to her all the time.’ He smiled sadly.

‘I’m glad you’re here, Dad.’

‘Me too, pet, and from the little I saw of Marco, he seems like a decent enough fellow. We’ll know more today when we see how he reacts to your terms.’

I rubbed my eyes.

‘You look worn out. You need to get some rest. Could you take a few days off when you get back?’

I shook my head. ‘No chance. I’ve a crazy few weeks coming up in work and I’m still trying to manage Zo?, the worst intern in the history of interns.’ I turned a sachet of sugar between my fingers. ‘I dunno, Dad, I’m beginning to wonder, what’s it all about?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I’m working long hours, trying to juggle single-parenting, putting money aside for Clara, because who knows what kind of job or career she’ll have? But am I missing out on life? Should I be spending more quality time with her? I have no life outside work and Clara. I don’t have time for anything else. Do I want to work in a firm where I’m beholden to the managing partner and have to babysit his wretched goddaughter? Is this what I want to do for the next fifteen years?’

Dad poured more coffee into my cup. ‘When something big happens in your life it throws up all of these questions. Losing your mum and now finding Marco has turned your life upside-down. It’s normal to question things. And you’re also at a stage in your career where you’ve achieved great things. Now you have to think about the future and what you really want from life. Maybe you need a better work-life balance. Could you go to a four-day week?’

‘I don’t think so. I could work from home, but that’s still working.’

‘Don’t make any rash decisions. Take time to let everything that’s happened sink in. When I retired, I was lost. Work was such a huge part of my life. It took a while to adjust. I should have cut back slowly instead of working full-time and retiring overnight. I drove your poor mother mad at first because I didn’t know what to be doing with myself all day. She found me jobs, got me into the golf and helped me navigate retirement. My advice to you is to take your time. Deal with the Marco situation first and then, when your head is clearer, think about what you really want for the future.’

‘Thanks, Dad. It helps to talk about it. My head is scrambled at the moment.’ I glanced at my watch. It was nine thirty and my sisters still hadn’t come down. ‘Speaking of Marco, we’re going to be late if Sophie and Julie don’t hurry up.’

Dad laughed. ‘They were the same getting up for school. They never wanted to get out of bed. You were always up and dressed before they’d even opened their eyes.’

Dad and I went up to knock on their door. We had a lot to do and no time to waste.

Sophie answered the door in pink silk pyjamas with her matching sleep mask pushed up on her forehead.

‘It’s nine thirty, come on. Get up. Louise has a big day ahead.’ Dad clapped his hands together.

‘Sorry, we stayed up for ages chatting,’ Sophie croaked.

Julie was lying in the bed with the duvet over her head.

‘I just need a little more sleep.’ She groaned.

‘Julie! Your sister needs to get going, she has important matters to attend to,’ Dad said sharply.

‘Okay, keep your hair on.’

Julie scrambled out of bed. Her hair was all over the place and she was wearing an oversized T-shirt. ‘How are you feeling?’ she asked me.

‘Tired and stressed, but I went for a run and had some coffee and a chat with Dad and I feel a little calmer now.’

‘God, Louise, you’re amazing. When I’m tired and stressed I stay in bed, eat junk food and feel worse,’ Julie said.

‘I can’t drink coffee when I’m stressed. It makes me too jumpy,’ Sophie said.

I could feel my overstretched patience wearing very thin. ‘As much as I’d love to stand here and analyse what you do and don’t do when you’re stressed, I need you to get your arses downstairs ASAP. We’re going to Marco’s farm.’

‘He’s so lovely, Louise. You can just tell he’s a good man,’ Julie gushed.

‘Such kind eyes, and his smile!’ Sophie said.

I fiddled with my necklace. ‘We’ll see. It’s baby steps for now.’

‘I’m so happy for you.’

Oh, no, Julie was getting emotional.

‘For the love of God, Julie, we haven’t time for tears. Get dressed,’ Dad said firmly. ‘Less talking, more moving. Hurry up.’ He left the room.

Julie threw on a crumpled top and jeans from the bottom of her suitcase. ‘I need coffee and food,’ she said.

‘The kitchen is about to close.’

Julie rushed out the door.

Sophie asked if she had time to iron her dress. I stared at her.

‘Okay, that’s a no. I’ll have the quickest shower ever and meet you downstairs in ten minutes.’

‘Fine.’

‘Can you order me a skinny cappuccino?’

‘I’ll order you a cappuccino. They don’t do skinny milk here.’

‘Then I’ll have an Americano with hot milk on the side and a plain yogurt if they have it. If not, maybe just some fruit but only berries and maybe some muesli.’

I couldn’t listen to Sophie’s irritating breakfast order. Ignoring her I left the room as she said, ‘Actually, an egg-white omelette would be good.’

I sat opposite Julie, having my third coffee of the morning.

‘I’m very proud of you, Louise. Mum would be too. This was such a selfless act. You could have told Clara that Marco was dead. But you took the hard road and did the right thing for her. You’re amazing.’

‘Thanks. I just hope it’s not a huge mistake.’

‘Mum would love it here. She loved Italy and this village would be right up her street. “Authentic Italy,” she’d say.’ Julie laughed.

‘That’s what Dad said. Apparently they came to Italy years ago. It’s mad, I never imagined I’d miss Mum as much as I do,’ I admitted.

‘That’s because you got so close to her in the last few years.’

‘True. I’m so glad I had Clara. She was the glue between me and Mum.’

‘I think Clara brought us all closer. I loved working at the Clara Devlin Foundation with Dad and Gavin, and doing fundraisers, with Sophie and Mum pitching in. It was an amazing time.’

I smiled. ‘It was, but we were right to let it be subsumed into Supporting Autism Ireland. All the same, it was hard to let it go.’

‘I know, but you’re right. It was the best thing to do. It grew so fast we couldn’t handle it on our own. I have really fond memories of that time. Sophie and Jack getting back together, Dad and Gavin getting along, you and Colin … Do you ever miss him?’

I put my coffee down. ‘In the beginning I did, more than I’d care to admit, but after about six months the hole he left filled with work and Clara. I’m glad we’re still friends, though.’

‘What about Marco? Any sparks when you saw him last night?’

I rolled my eyes. ‘None. He is so completely the opposite of my type.’

‘To be fair, he’s more attractive in the flesh and seems lovely.’

‘We’ll see how lovely he is when I show him the contracts.’

Dad and Sophie walked in, Sophie looking fresh and rosy.

‘How the hell do you look so good?’ Julie asked.

‘Make-up.’

Will you do mine, please?’

‘We don’t have time for that, Julie.’

‘Did you order my breakfast?’ Sophie asked.

‘No, Sophie, it’s not the Hilton. I ordered you coffee and there is bread if you want a quick slice.’

‘I don’t eat carbs,’ she muttered, as she drank her coffee.

‘You could do with a few bread rolls. You’re too thin,’ Dad grumbled.

‘Do you think so?’ Sophie was thrilled.

Ping ping ping . Julie’s phone had been pinging non-stop since we left Dublin. It was doing my head in.

‘Julie, turn off your bloody notifications before I throw your phone into my coffee. It’s infuriating.’

‘I need to keep on top of it. If I turn them off, I’ll have hundreds to deal with when I get back to it.’

‘It’s a stupid, pointless WhatsApp group. Who cares?’ I had no patience for the WhatsApp nonsense.

Julie bristled. ‘It is actually important. Harry and I have to give out all the information the coaches give us about the games and all that.’

‘To be fair, you do need to keep on top of these school WhatsApp groups,’ Sophie said. ‘They’re incredibly annoying, but they keep you in the loop. Besides, Julie is the captains’ mum. It’s a big job.’

I snorted. ‘Come on, it’s a few messages about match times, not press officer to the White House. Julie, you said yourself a lot of it is people complaining or pontificating.’

‘True, but I don’t want to let the triplets down so I have to make sure everyone feels included and involved. I know what an outsider I felt at first in the school, so I want everyone, even the parents of boys who will never get to play, to feel part of the experience.’

‘Fine, but the constant pinging of your phone is too much.’

‘I agree with Louise. The notifications are relentless,’ Sophie said.

‘It’s ridiculous,’ Dad said. ‘You’re like a prisoner to that phone and Harry’s worse. He’s never off his.’

‘I know, Dad, and it drives me nuts too, but it’s only for a few more weeks.’

‘Fine, but for the rest of today I need you to put it on silent. My nerves are frayed enough,’ Dad said. ‘And Louise does not need it distracting her.’

Julie pulled out her phone as it pinged again and put it on silent. ‘Fine.’

‘Can we please go?’ I stood up. ‘Dad, you’re driving, I’ll navigate.’

‘What can I do?’ Julie asked.

‘Ideally, keep quiet,’ I snapped. I was feeling more and more anxious, and all this prattling was starting to grate on me.

Julie did not look happy. ‘I’m giving you a pass because you’re stressed, Louise, but I suggest that you smile, not snarl, at Marco’s poor mother.’

Ignoring her, I headed out to the car.

Marco had texted me directions and thank God he had because we would never have found the farm otherwise. It was down the end of several winding and narrow old roads.

‘It’s certainly remote anyway,’ Dad said, as we turned the final corner and were met with a large farmhouse. The stone was a pale grey and the shutters on every window were painted sky blue, which gave the house a warm and welcoming feel. Acres of olive groves surrounded it.

‘It’s so pretty,’ Sophie said.

‘Gorgeous,’ Julie agreed.

‘I have to be honest, it’s much nicer than I imagined,’ Dad said.

The front door was open, and before we had come to a halt, Marco was rushing out, followed by his mother, who was a tiny woman with a head of snow-white hair. ‘ Benvenuti! ’ she cried, waving her arms.

‘Aww, she’s lovely,’ Julie said.

‘Julie!’ I snapped.

‘Jesus! Okay, fine, I’ll say nothing.’

We climbed out of the car and were all swept up in big hugs. When she got to me – ‘Louisa’, as she called me – she clung on. It was awkward as her head was squashed against my boobs and I’m not a big hugger, especially not with strangers.

Thankfully, Marco peeled his mother off me and showed us into the house. Despite my earlier threats to silence Julie, I was so glad that she, Sophie and Dad were there to keep the conversation flowing and try to make this crazy situation seem normal.

‘Anna.’ Marco’s mum pointed to her chest.

‘Julie.’

‘Sophie.’

‘George.’

‘Louise.’

‘Our mother was called Anne,’ Sophie said.

‘My wife,’ Dad explained.

Marco translated.

‘Is she also coming to Italy?’ Marco asked.

‘No, she’s dead,’ I said.

‘ Morta ,’ Marco said to his mother.

‘ Le mie condoglianze ,’ Anna said, her eyes filling with tears.

‘Thank you,’ I said.

She looked at Dad and tilted her head to one side. ‘ Mi dispiace per la tua perdita .’

‘I think that means “I’m sorry for your loss,”’ Sophie said.

Dad put his hand to his heart and said slowly and loudly, ‘Thank. You. Very. Much.’

‘She’s Italian, not deaf,’ Julie whispered.

Anna said something. Marco translated. ‘My mother say she know how you feels. My father die ten years ago. Her heart was breaking.’

Dad tried to fight back tears while Anna patted his hand.

It was all too much. I could feel my own emotions welling up. I felt Julie’s hand on my back.

‘Breathe.’

I did as she said, and regained some control.

We sat down at their big kitchen table on wooden chairs covered with checked blue and white cushions. The house was bright, airy, clean and uncluttered. Clara would like that.

Marco made us coffee while Anna produced a freshly baked lemon ricotta cake from the oven.

When we were all sitting down, Anna, who had perched beside me, looked over at Marco and said something in Italian.

‘My mother would like to see photo of Clara.’

I pulled up my briefcase and handed her the photos.

‘ Dio mio ,’ she exclaimed. She looked up at Marco. ‘ Tua zia .’

He nodded. ‘She say Clara look like my aunt.’

Anna wept as she looked through the photos. She kissed Clara’s picture and stroked her head. I could feel pain shooting through my heart. Here was a grandmother seeing her grandchild for the first time. It reminded me of when Mum first held Clara. I felt a wave of emotion crash over me. I gripped the table to steady myself. I had to stay focused for the conversation ahead.

Around me everyone was crying. Julie and Sophie were wiping their eyes while Marco dabbed his and rubbed his mother’s back. Even Dad was looking misty.

‘ Mia nipoté ,’ Anna sobbed. Looking up at me she said, ‘ Grazie, mia cara .’

I nodded, unable to speak for the raw emotion on her face.

I drank my fourth cup of coffee and then, clearing my throat, said, ‘Marco, we need to talk about logistics.’

‘Logistics?’ He looked confused.

‘Plans, details,’ Dad said. ‘Louise has documents for you to look over.’

‘ Ah, sì .’

I opened my briefcase and handed him a folder.

‘In there is a return ticket to Dublin dated for three weeks’ time. I need that time to prepare Clara to meet you. I’ll take photos now and videos to show her where you live and for her to see you and your mother. I will organize a FaceTime in one week when you can talk to Clara. You will need to improve your English. Clara and I will take Italian lessons. I have a tutor lined up. I have written a list of things Clara likes and dislikes. I have also explained that she is different and needs to be handled with care. The documents are in English but I also had them translated into Italian so there is no language barrier. You must understand Clara before you meet her. She is the most precious thing in my life. I will not have her upset. If she decides she doesn’t want to meet you, then this is over. Clara is the one who will decide, not you or me. Is that clear?’

‘I only see Clara if Clara want?’

‘Yes. She has to want to meet you. She’s very … she’s …’

‘I understand. Clara ees fragile.’

‘Yes, she is fragile. But also incredible.’

‘ Sì, sì , incredible. Be calm, Louisa. I only do what Clara want. I want her to be happy. No stress.’

‘I will need you to sign some documents.’

‘Why?’

‘Because she needs to protect her daughter and herself,’ Dad said firmly.

‘Louisa, no need for documents. I do what you say. I do what Clara want. I only want to make my daughter happy. I can see you are good mother, protective mother. I understand, but no need for documents.’

‘I’m afraid it’s non-negotiable. You have to sign, Marco. I’m giving you rights to visit and be in her life as long as Clara is happy. It’s a very fair deal that protects Clara.’

‘Okay, okay, I sign.’

Anna tugged Marco’s sleeve and asked him something.

‘Do you ’ave the video of Clara with you?’

‘Yes, lots of videos. I’ve put a few on this USB stick for you, but I can show you some now on my phone.’

I brought up the file of videos I had chosen to show Marco and pressed play. Clara’s face filled the screen. She was singing along to ‘Fernando’.

Anna held her hands to her mouth and shook her head as she cried, ‘ Mia sorella Maria .’

Marco explained. ‘Clara is looking like my mother’s sister, Maria.’

‘Can we meet her?’ Julie asked.

He shook his head. ‘She die when she twenty-two, in a car accident.’

‘Oh, that’s desperate,’ Dad said softly. ‘I’m very sorry,’ he said to Anna.

She smiled sadly at him, then touched the screen with her hand. ‘Maria.’

She turned to me and there was so much pain mixed with joy in her eyes that it floored me. ‘ Grazie ,’ she said, holding my hand.

‘You’re welcome,’ I croaked, as tears welled in my eyes.

Anna stroked my cheek and patted my hand. I sobbed with relief, fear of the future, happiness that Clara had a lovely dad and grandmother, worry about how it would all work out, sadness that Mum was missing it, and also from pure emotional exhaustion.

My sisters and father gathered around me and we watched as Clara finished her song and her beautiful crooked smile lit up the screen.