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‘Hey, come on, that’s enough of that,’ Josh chided her gently. ‘You’re a stunning-looking girl, Rosie, a real beauty.’
‘I’m different, I’m—’
‘Special,’ Josh told her firmly. ‘That’s what being different is. It’s being special. You and me, we’re both special, and that’s important. It’s more important than anything else, because when you’re special, then you’ve got something that other people don’t have. You’re luckier than them. At least that’s the way I look at it. It’s the way you’ve got to look at it.’ He added fiercely, ‘It’s either sink or swim, Rosie. You can let the so-and-sos put you down and kick you in the arse, or you can get up and smile and promise yourself that one day you’ll be the one kicking them, and I know which I want to be. There’s no law that says that the people who think they’re better than we are have it all their own way.’
Rose tried to smile. Josh was only trying to cheer her up, but it was different for him. He might be Jewish–and some people were, she knew, antagonistic towards Jews–but at least Josh was part of a community. London had a large Jewish population and he had a family, a proper family. She was a one-off, someone who didn’t fit in anywhere, neither into her father’s family, nor the Chinese community in London, because she was neither one thing nor the other.
Cassandra’s cruel disclosures haunted her. She had tried not to give them any credence but Cassandra had been so confident, so sure, so knowing, as though aware all along she had been privy to this secret from which Rose had been excluded.
‘I thought that Amber should have told you the truth,’ Cassandra had said to her. ‘I said so all along. After all, you had a right to know, and I believed you could be trusted with the secret, but Amber obviously didn’t agree with me. But then Greg was her brother and she had her own children to think of–and herself.’
Was Cassandra right? Rose didn’t know. She only knew that she felt desperately alone and confused, and that she couldn’t bear to be in Amber’s company right now and had taken to avoiding her to protect herself–to protect them both and, of course, John. She would have been so proud to have been publicly able to claim John as her brother. Oddly it now felt right and much more comfortable somehow to love him in that way rather than as she had done before, with a schoolgirl crush. But as his stepmother had said, John would not be proud to claim her as his half-sister. He would not want to have the possibility of a blood relationship with her forced on him. He would be horrified and ashamed because of what she was.
‘I cannot bear the thought of us having to part. When I return to my own country I shall be wishing every day that I could be here with you. I would do anything to be with you.’ Alessandro was close to tears.
Emerald’s emotions, on the other hand, were firmly under control and focused on something far more important than Alessandro’s misery.
It had been Emerald’s suggestion that they met in Hyde Park; it was one of the few places they could go where they could have some degree of privacy.
There had scarcely been a day since the night of Emerald’s coming-out ball when they hadn’t seen one another and, thanks in the main to Emerald, had managed to find somewhere to snatch a few private minutes together, all of which, just as she had planned, had fanned the flames of Alessandro’s passion for her.
The previous day, though, he had told her that his mother was talking about summoning someone from Lauranto to escort Alessandro back to the
principality because she felt that he had been away for long enough; her own return would have to be delayed to allow her to remain with her dying cousin.
Right from the start Emerald had realised that Alessandro was in awe of his mother and that she controlled him. Alessandro himself had naïvely told Emerald that his mother wasn’t happy about him having the amount of personal freedom he was currently enjoying.
‘Poor Mama worries so about me,’ he had told Emerald. ‘She would prefer to be with me but of course she cannot leave her cousin.’
‘What a saint she must be,’ Emerald had responded mock sweetly. ‘I would so love to meet her.’
Alessandro’s reaction to her suggestion had told her all she needed to know about his relationship with his mother. He had positively squirmed with discomfort and had even looked over his shoulder as though he half feared that his mother might actually appear.
‘She is a saint, as you say,’ he had agreed, ‘but she is not used to the ways of London society.’
‘Oh, what do you mean?’ Emerald had asked him.
Alessandro had looked uncomfortable. ‘Well, she would not approve…That is to say that Laurantese girls do not have the same freedom that girls have here in London. Of course, we are a Catholic country.’
‘Oh dear,’ Emerald had responded with false concern, ‘I do hope that your mother won’t disapprove of me, Alessandro. I do so want her to like me.’
‘She will like you, of course,’ Alessandro had rushed to assure her.
Thinking of Alessandro’s mother now reminded Emerald that there was something she needed to know.
‘Dearest,’ she asked him sweetly, taking hold of his hand, ‘it is not because of me that your mother is sending you home, is it? Only I know that you did say that she might not approve of me and—’
‘Oh, no, it isn’t because of you. She doesn’t even know that I see you,’ Alessandro answered her.
Emerald squeezed his hand and hid her real feelings. She knew perfectly well that Alessandro’s mother would not approve of her. The princess had controlled so much of her son’s life that it was impossible that she wouldn’t also want to control his choice of friends.
‘It isn’t that I haven’t wanted to tell her about you,’ Alessandro was saying.
‘Do you think she would like me, Alessandro?’
‘Of course she will,’ he confirmed. ‘She will love you, as I do.’
Emerald moved closer to him. The May sunshine was warm enough for her to be wearing a button-through cotton dress, the fabric splashed with large cornflowers. Emerald had unfastened the top few buttons so that the upper curves of her breasts were revealed. She smiled with satisfaction when she saw the way Alessandro’s ardent gaze kept returning to the unfastened buttons.
