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‘Tony,’ Joseph said, and welcomed the embrace of his friend, the kiss on both cheeks.
Loretta’s son wasn’t young, but neither was he my parent’s age. Slightly rotund and short legged, Tony spoke quietly, inviting us in. I realised, very quickly, he was nervous, and his apprehension mirrored mine. He wanted to look at me, but glanced away each time I tried to make contact with his dark, flitting eyes.
He led us into a spacious living room, which was cool and dotted with elegant, yet simple furniture. However, my attention was drawn to another man in ash chinos and navy blue t-shirt. Still the epitome of smart casual, David Carmichael hadn’t lost any of his suave. Where he differed were the rings around his eyes and the extra flecks of white in his thinning hair. He seemed much older than I remembered from six months ago.
‘David,’ I said, bluntly, and licked my lips. ‘You’ve not met Joseph Smith, the artist I mentioned in my emails to you.’
It was hard not to add daggers to my tone.
David held out his hand and Joseph cautiously shook it. Meanwhile, Tony bustled, bringing over a tray of tumblers and a jug of water.
‘Please sit.’ David assumed the role of host. For the moment, my mind focused upon him. The questions I had brought with me were for him alone.
Joseph and I sat facing David. Tony had his hands pressed together as if in prayer, his eyes full of anxiety. I loosened, relieving my face of a stiffness that I had carried into the house; this man was my cousin, and I was behaving ungraciously, as if I was in enemy territory.
‘It’s beautiful here. I’m sorry we couldn’t give you any more warning of our visit.’
Tony held up a hand. ‘You are welcome to visit.’ His English was heavily accented, used sparingly. When Joseph had stayed alone with the family, he had opened up to English-speaking Loretta, not Tony.
David cleared his throat. ‘I knew Lora had instigated another project alongside yours, Robyn, but she kept me in the dark. I’m sorry. Neither did she explain her connection to you. I only found that out recently, when I returned to help her with the final stages of her book, which was when she told me I was to inherit her gallery. Tony spoke of your mutual friend Joseph, which led me to recall your email, and Tony reminded me of the connection to Coalville. It all fitted.’
‘Did she see the last email I sent her about Joseph?’ I asked.
‘She was aware of it. She was frail and determined to put her affairs in order. By the time I got here, there was little for me to do. You should know, Lora gave me a description of a young woman whom she said I would meet at the Curzon.’ David blushed. ‘Not a painter, but a photographer. She had an uncanny ability to predict things. I thought it was highly unlikely I would find what she was looking for. I confess, I never had her faith in destiny.’
‘I thought she was… the Medici name misled me,’ I said, still bruised on the inside by David’s complicity.
‘I am sorry,’ David repeated with feeling. ‘It wasn’t intentional. Only, later, it became convenient. Lora was bemused by your misconception, but asked me to maintain it. She meant no harm. Maybe she never anticipated you would work out who she was.’
‘Didn’t she?’ I said sharply. ‘There were letters, you see, from Loretta to my grandmother. Decades old. They were only discovered after I went back to Coalville.’ I didn’t want to mention Beryl’s interference in front of Tony.
‘Well, I would think she thought it unlikely.’
It probably was. Loretta’s letters to my grandmother wouldn’t have been discovered if Beryl hadn’t died, and I suspected Loretta thought that they had been destroyed long ago. Without the letters, there was a slim chance I might have worked at the connection to Loretta through David and Joseph’s mutual friendship with her. With hindsight, whether that friendship would have been sufficient to lead me here, I didn’t know.
‘In any case,’ David said, ‘If you hadn’t come here, my instructions were to contact you and pass on her last request. I think her entire intention was not about dredging up her past. She hid her identity specifically to avoid—’
‘No, not avoid. To ensure I was drawn to Joseph’s story, not hers.’
David nodded, slowly.
I dare not look at Joseph, and instead I turned to face Tony. ‘Do you know who I am?’
He lowered his eyes. ‘Mamma’s mother was English - Catherine. This I knew, we all knew. My grandfather married an Italian.’ Tony laboured over the choice of words. ‘He loved his wife much. Mamma was happy in Italy.’
I didn’t doubt that, and there was no indication in the letters I had read that Loretta was neglected by her father and stepmother, and they had educated her to a high standard.
‘We are kind of cousins,’ I said.
Tony nodded. ‘Yes. Your mother is my cousin.’
‘And it wasn’t a secret that Loretta had a half-sister in England?’
Tony caught David’s eye and said something in Italian.
David nodded. ‘Tony says it was a secret for many years until his grandparents died. Lora had honoured her father’s wishes not to speak out of respect for her step-mother, who raised her as her own. Only later did she speak of her mother in England, and her family in Coalville.’
Tony hadn’t said all that.
