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‘His work was the reason?’ Leonardo was not quite getting the picture.
‘Yes. When my mother confided to Laurence that she planned to have a baby through IVF at this particular clinic, he wa
s appalled.’
‘Appalled? Why?’
‘Because he thought they didn’t know enough about the prospective sperm donor’s genes. Yes, the clinic records showed the one she’d chosen was tall, dark and handsome. And intelligent. But Laurence questioned his medical and mental backgrounds, the details of which he said were superficial at best. He said she was taking a risk because she didn’t know enough about the sperm donor’s DNA, whereas his own had been thoroughly checked out. By him.’
Leonardo nodded. Now he understood what had happened.
‘So he offered his own sperm instead,’ he said.
‘Yes. When Mum initially refused, he argued with her about it. Made her feel that if she didn’t agree she was being silly.’
Leonardo nodded. ‘Laurence could be very persuasive when he wanted to be. He introduced me to classical music. And opera. I told him I hated opera but he proved me wrong in the end. Now I love it. I can well understand how he talked your mother into using his sperm. He would have convinced her that she owed it to her child to make sure she wasn’t carrying any unfortunate genes. But what about Ruth? I gather she didn’t know anything about this arrangement?’
‘No. He insisted they keep it a secret from his wife. He said it would upset Ruth terribly if she found out. Mum had to promise to put “father unknown” on the birth certificate and go along with the charade of my father being a Latvian university student.’
‘That makes Laurence sound a bit heartless.’
‘That’s what I thought. Mum said he wasn’t but I don’t agree. Okay, so he bought her the house we live in. Big deal! She still had to live on the single mother’s pension until I went to school and she could go back to work. I mean… Okay, so he didn’t want to upset his childless wife… I get that, I guess. But why didn’t he contact Mum and me after his wife died? Why leave me to find out he was my father after he was dead? What good was that?’
‘I’m sorry, I cannot answer those questions, Miss Hanson. I am as baffled as you are. But at least he left you his villa.’
‘Yes. I’ve been thinking about that too. Why leave me anything at all? And why this villa? On the island of Capri, of all places. He must have had a reason. He was a highly intelligent man, from the sounds of things.’
Something teased at the back of Leonardo’s mind. Something about the last day he’d talked to Laurence. But the thought didn’t stick. He would think about it some more later, when he was calmer.
‘Maybe he just wanted to give you something of value,’ he suggested.
‘Then why not just give me money? From reading his will, I gather he had plenty.’
‘I must admit that thought had occurred to me too, Miss Hanson.’
‘Oh, please stop calling me that. My name is Veronica.’
‘Very well. Veronica,’ he said, and found himself smiling for some reason. ‘And you must call me Leonardo. Or Leo, if you prefer. I know Australians like to shorten names.’
‘I prefer Leonardo,’ she said. ‘It sounds more… Italian.’
Leonardo laughed. ‘I am Italian.’
‘You speak beautiful English.’
‘Grazie.’
‘And grazie to you too. Now… I have made a decision about the villa. I appreciate your offer to buy it, Leonardo. And I will sell you the villa. Eventually. But, first, I want to come and stay there for a while. Not too long. Just long enough to find out all I can about my father…’
CHAPTER FIVE
EXCITEMENT FIZZED IN Veronica’s stomach as the ferry left Sorrento on its twenty-minute ride to Capri. The day was glorious, not a cloud in the sky, the water a sparkling and very inviting blue.
It had taken two weeks for her to organise this trip. She hadn’t wanted to leave her patients in the lurch by departing abruptly so she’d seen them all one more time—or contacted them by phone—telling them that she was taking a much-needed holiday.
Naturally, she hadn’t been about to blurt out the truth behind her trip to Italy. That would have set a cat among the pigeons, sparking far too many questions. They’d all been sweetly understanding, bringing her to tears on a couple of occasions, because they mistakenly thought she was still grieving Jerome’s death.
Which she had been, in a way. For far too long.
