Free The Italian Girl by Lucinda Riley Page B

his misgivings, he’d pick up the telephone tomorrow and call her.

8
    ‘Do I look okay?’
    ‘Rosanna, you look as you always do – lovely.’
    ‘Oh, you’re just saying that, Luca.’
    ‘Listen, piccolina , you’re only going to your first day at music school, not entering a beauty pageant. Come, or we’ll be late.’ Luca offered his hands.
    Rosanna took them. ‘I’m so nervous, Luca.’
    ‘I know you are, but you’ll be fine, I promise. Now, we need to go.’
    Luca shut and locked the door to their tiny fifth-floor apartment and they began to walk down the many stairs.
    ‘I like our new home, but I hope the lift will be mended soon. I counted seventy-five steps last night,’ Rosanna giggled.
    ‘It will keep us fit, and besides, the climb is worth it for the beautiful view we have of Milan.’ Luca knew they’d been lucky to get an apartment so centrally located and suspected that Paolo had pulled a few strings to secure it for them.
    The two of them reached the downstairs hall and Luca opened the front door. They stepped out onto the wide pavement of the Corso di Porta Romana, narrowly avoiding a collision with the steady stream of pedestrians that flowed busily in both directions. Luca consulted a sheet of paper on which he’d scribbled down the directions that Paolo had given him.
    ‘We could take the tram, but it’s so crowded at this time of the morning.’ He watched one rattling past at that moment, with passengers spilling out of the open windows. Two young men ran behind it and daringly leapt onto the rear footplate to hitch a ride. ‘Signor de Vito says it’s only a fifteen-minute walk to the school from here. Well, we’ll try it and see if he’s correct,’ Luca shouted above the hubbub.
    ‘I keep having to pinch myself to believe that today is happening,’ said Rosanna, drinking in the atmosphere as they walked along the noisy street, past teeming cafés and shops opening their shutters for business. ‘What will you do while I’m at school?’
    ‘I think I’ll be a tourist,’ Luca said. ‘There are so many beautiful old churches in the city and I’ll start with those. The Duomo di Milano is only a few streets from here. And I must find a place of worship that’s near our apartment. I promised Papa I’d take you to Mass every Sunday.’
    As Paolo had predicted, after fifteen minutes or so, the two of them turned left into the Via Santa Marta. ‘Look, there’s the school.’ Rosanna paused on the street corner and turned to her brother. ‘There’ll be no need to walk me here every morning. I want you to have your own life in Milan too, Luca.’
    ‘I know. And I will. But my first priority is you.’ The two of them crossed the road and stood looking at the entrance to the school. Other young men and women were streaming past them, funnelling into the door that led to the hallowed corridors of Italy’s most illustrious music academy. ‘Well, here we are,’ Luca said, smiling at her. ‘I’ll say goodbye now and meet you back here at five o’clock.’
    Rosanna clutched his hand. ‘I’m scared, Luca.’
    ‘You’ll be fine. Remember, this was our dream.’ Luca kissed her on both cheeks. ‘Good luck, piccolina .’
    ‘Thank you.’
    Three hours later, Luca was sitting in a small café writing a postcard to his father, eating crostini and drinking a glass of beer. He’d spent an hour inside the great Duomo, then walked through the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele, marvelling at the exotic shops and the cost of the goods they contained. He’d exited the Galleria into the Piazza della Scala and stood for a while gazing up at the fabled facade of the world-famous opera house, where one day he hoped he would hear his sister sing.
    Tonight, he wanted to organise a celebration supper for both of them. Glancing at his watch, he realised he still had a lot to do before he went to collect Rosanna. He finished the remains of his meal, paid the bill and headed off in the direction of