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‘Christmas is especially hard,’ Antonietta admitted. ‘It is then that I miss them the most. And I find it hard to believe that they don’t think of me and miss me also. Especially my mother. I want to give them one final chance...’
‘Fair enough—but what about fun?’ Aurora persisted. ‘I get that it hasn’t been all doom and gloom, but you haven’t spoken of any friends. I never hear you saying you’re going on a date...’
‘Younever dated anyone until Nico,’ Antonietta said rather defensively.
‘Only because I have loved Nico my entire life,’ Aurora said. ‘No one compared. But at least I tried once...’
They both laughed as they recalled Aurora’s attempt to get over Nico by getting off with a fireman, but then Antonietta’s laughter died away. There was a very good reason she hadn’t dated. One that she hadn’t even shared with her closest friend. It wasn’t just the fact that Sylvester was her second cousin that had caused Antonietta to flee on her wedding day. It had been her dread of their wedding night.
Sylvester’s kisses had repulsed Antonietta, and the rough, urgent roaming of his hands had terrified her. And her reluctance to partake had infuriatedhim.
It had all come to a head for Antonietta in the weeks before the planned wedding, when she had come to dread time spent alone with her fiancé. On more than a couple of occasions he had almost overpowered her, and Antonietta had been forced to plead with Sylvester and say that she was saving herself for her wedding night.
‘Frigida,’he had called her angrily.
And very possibly she was, Antonietta had concluded, because to this day the thought of being intimate with a man left her cold.
At the time she had tried voicing her fears about it to hermamma, but her advice had been less than reassuring. Hermammahad told her that once she was married it was her wifely duty to perform‘once a week to keep him happy’.
As the wedding night had loomed closer, so had Antonietta’s sense of dread. And that feeling of dread, whenever she thought of kissing a man, let alone being intimate with a man, had stayed with her.
She wished she could speak about it with Aurora. But her friend was so confident with her sexuality, and so deliriously happy in her marriage that instead of confiding in her, Antonietta remained eternally private and kept the darkest part of her soul to herself.
‘It’s time to live a little,’ Aurora pushed now.
‘I agree.’ Antonietta nodded, even if she didn’t quite believe it herself. ‘But first I have to give my parents this chance to forgive me.’
‘Forwhat, Antonietta?’ Aurora was blunt. ‘Sylvester was your second cousin; the fact is they just wanted to keep their money in the family and keep the Ricci name strong—’
‘Even so...’ It was Antonietta who interrupted now. ‘I shamed my parents in front of their entire family. I left Sylvester standing at the altar! You saw the fallout, Aurora...’
‘Yes...’
Apparently a huge fight had broken out in the church. Antonietta hadn’t hung around to witness it, though; she had timed it so she had been on the train out of Silibri by then.
‘I miss having a family.’ It was the simple truth. ‘They are not perfect—I know that—but I miss having them in my life. And even if we cannot reconcile I feel there is unfinished business between us. Even if it is a final goodbye then I want it to be said face to face.’
‘Well, the offer’s there if you change your mind,’ Aurora said. ‘Nico and I want Gabe to celebrate his first Christmas in Silibri...’ Her voice trailed off as she pulled a swathe of scarlet fabric from Antonietta’s case. ‘This is beautiful—where did you get it?’
‘Paris.’ Antonietta smiled and ran her hands fondly over the fabric. ‘I bought it just after I arrived there.’ It had been a late summer’s day and, having just written to her parents, she had been buoyed by the prospect of reconciliation. ‘I was walking through Place Saint-Pierre and I wandered into a fabric store.’
She had decided to celebrate her happy mood and there amongst the brocades and velvets she had found a bolt of stunning crimson silk and bought a length.
‘You have had it all this time and done nothing with it?’ Aurora checked as Antonietta wrapped it back in its tissue paper and placed it in the bottom drawer of a heavy wooden chest. ‘Youcannotleave this hiding in a drawer.’
‘I might make some cushions with it.’
‘Cushions?’ Aurora was aghast. ‘That fabric deserves to be made into a dress and taken out!’
‘Oh? And when will I ever wear it?’
‘As a last resort you can wear it in your coffin,’ Aurora said with typical Sicilian dark humour. ‘You can lie there dead and people can sayLook how beautiful she almost was!Give it to me and let me make something with it.’
Aurora was a brilliant seamstress, and would certainly make something beautiful, but it was almost reluctantly that Antonietta handed over the fabric.
‘Let me get your measurements,’ Aurora said.
‘I don’t have a tape measure.’
