The Innocent's Secret Baby(5)

'Venice.'

'I wasn't there long enough to forgive her,' Lydia admitted.

'What happened?'

'Just being a teenager...'

She could easily dismiss it as that, but it had been more. Oh, she  didn't want to tell him that her father had just died and left behind  him utter chaos, for while it might explain her unhappiness then, it  wasn't the entire truth-it had been more than that.

'Schoolgirls can be such bitches.'

'I don't think it is exclusive to that age bracket.'

'No!' Lydia actually laughed at his observation because, yes, those girls were now women and probably still much the same.

She glanced at her phone, which had remained silent.

Arabella hadn't responded to her text.

Neither had she responded to Lydia's last message.

And suddenly Lydia was back in Italy, hurting again.

'What happened in Venice?'

Raul chose his moment to ask. He knew how to steer conversations, and yet he actually found himself wanting to know.

'We went to Murano...to a glass factory.' She shook her head and, as she had then, felt pained to reveal the truth.

It felt like a betrayal.

Money should never be discussed outside the home.

'And...?' Raul gently pushed.

Why lie? Lydia thought.

She would never see him again.

It wasn't such a big deal.

Surely?

'My father had died the year before.'

He didn't say he was sorry-did not offer the automatic response to that statement.

It was oddly freeing.

Everyone had been so sorry.

If there's anything I can do... The words had been tossed around like black confetti at his funeral.

Yet they had done nothing!

When it was clear the money had gone, so had they.

'I'd told Arabella, my best friend, that my mother was struggling  financially.' Lydia was sweating, and that wasn't flattering. She wanted  to call the waiter to move the shade umbrella but knew she could be  sitting in ice and the result would be the same.

It wasn't sexy sweat.

Lydia wasn't turned on now.

She felt sick.

'I told Arabella that we might lose the castle.'

She offered more explanation.

'The castle was in my mother's family, but my father ran it. I thought  he had run it well, but on his death I found out that my parents had  been going under.'

Raul offered no comment, just let her speak.

'He took his own life.'

She'd never said it out loud before.

Had never been allowed to say it.

'I'm sorry you had to go through that.'

And because he hadn't said sorry before, now-when he did-she felt he meant it.

'I still can't believe he left me.'

'To deal with the fallout?'

He completed her sentence, even though Lydia thought she already had. She thought about it for a moment and nodded.

'Things really were dire. My mother kept selling things off, to pay for  my school fees. The trip to Italy was a compulsory one. I got a  part-time job-saved up some spending money. Of course it didn't come  close to what my friends had. They were hitting all the boutiques and  Arabella kept asking why I wasn't buying anything. In the end I told her  how bad things were. I swore her to secrecy.'

He gave a soft, mirthless laugh-one that told her he understood.

And then they were silent.

In that moment they met.

Not at a breakfast table in Rome but in a bleak, desolate space a world away from there.

They met and he reached across and took her hand, and together they walked it through.

'At the factory, after a demonstration, everyone was buying things. I  held back, of course. There was a table with damaged glassware and  Belinda, another friend, held up a three-legged horse and suggested it  was something that I might be able to afford. I realised then that  Arabella had told everyone.'

She could still feel the betrayal.

Could still remember looking over to her best friend as everyone had laughed.

Arabella hadn't so much as blushed at being caught.

'She suggested that they all have a whip-round for me.'

'So you walked off?' Raul asked, impatient to know and understand her some more.

'Oh, no!' Lydia shook her head and then sighed. 'I used up all my  spending money, and the money I'd been given for my birthday, and bought  a vase that I certainly couldn't afford.'         

     



 

It was that response in herself she had hated the most.

'How shallow is that?'

'People have been known to drown in shallow waters.'

'Well, it's certainly not easy to swim in them! Anyway, I didn't see them much after that...'

'You left school?'

'I went to the local comprehensive for my final year. Far more sensible...but hell.'

Everything-not just the fact that she was a new girl for the last year,  but every little thing, from her accent to her handwriting-had ensured  she didn't fit in from the very first day.

Raul knew it would have been hell.

He could imagine his schoolmates if an Italian version of Lydia had  shown up in his old schoolyard. Raul could guess all she would have gone  through.

'I was a joke to them, of course.'

He squeezed her hand and it was the kindest touch, so contrary to that time.

'Too posh to handle?' Raul said, and she nodded, almost smiled.

But then the smile changed.

Lydia never cried.

Ever.

Not even when her father had died.

So why start now?

Lydia pulled her hand back.

She was done with introspection-done with musings.

They hurt too much.

Lydia was somewhat appalled at how much she had told him.

'Raul, why am I here?'

'Because...' Raul shrugged, but when that did not appease her he elaborated. 'Maurice was getting in the way.'

Lydia found herself laughing, and it surprised her that she could.

A second ago she had felt like crying.

It was nice being with him.

Not soothing.

Just liberating.

She had told another person some of the truth and he had remained.

'Maurice is my stepfather,' she explained.

'Good,' Raul said, but she missed the innuendo.

'Not really.'

Lydia didn't respond to his flirting as others usually did, so he  adopted a more businesslike tone. The rest they could do later-he wanted  information now.

'Maurice wants you to be at some dinner tonight?'

Lydia nodded. 'He's got an important meeting with a potential investor and he wants me there.'

'Why?'

Lydia gave a dismissive shake of her head.

She certainly wasn't going to discuss that!

'I probably shan't go,' Lydia said, instead of explaining things. 'I'm  supposed to be catching up with a friend-or rather,' she added,  remembering all he had heard, 'an acquaintance.'

'Who?'

'Arabella.' She was embarrassed to admit it after all she had told him. 'She works in Rome now.'

'I thought you fell out?'

'That was all a very long time ago,' Lydia said, but she didn't actually like the point he had raised.

They hadn't fallen out.

The incident had been buried-like everything else.

She conversed with Arabella only through social media and the odd text.  It had been years since they had been face-to-face, and Lydia wasn't  sure she was relishing the prospect of seeing her, so, rather than admit  that, she went back to his original question-why Maurice wanted her to  be there tonight.

'The family castle is now a wedding venue.'

'Do you work there?'

Lydia nodded.

'Doing what?'

'I deal with the bookings and organise the catering...' She gave a tight  smile, because what she did for a living was so far away from her  dreams. When her father had been alive she had loved the visitors that  came to the castle. He would take them through it and pass on its rich  history and Lydia would learn something new every time.

'And you still live at home?'

'Yes.'

She didn't add that there was no choice. The business was failing so  badly that they couldn't afford much outside help, and she didn't get a  wage as such.

'Bastiano-this man we're supposed to meet tonight-has had a lot of  success converting old buildings... He has several luxury retreats and  my mother and Maurice are hoping to go that route with the castle.  Still, it would take a massive cash injection...'

'Castles need more than an injection-they require a permanent infusion,' Raul corrected.

All old buildings did.

It galled him that Bastiano had been able to turn the convent into a  successful business venture. On paper it should never have worked, and  yet somehow he had ensured that it had.

'Quite,' Lydia agreed. 'But more than money we need his wisdom...' She  misinterpreted the slight narrowing of Raul's eyes as confusion. 'A lot  of these types of venture fail-somehow Bastiano's succeed.'

'So why would this successful businessman be interested in your castle?'         

     



 

Lydia found she was holding her breath. His question was just a little  bit insulting. After all, the castle was splendid indeed, and Raul could  have no idea what a disaster in business Maurice had turned out to be.

'I'm sure Bastiano recognises its potential.'

'And he wants you there tonight so he can hear your vision for the castle?'

Lydia gave a small shake of her head. The truth was that she was  actually opposed to the idea of turning it into a retreat-not that her  objections held much weight.

'Then why do you need to go?'

'I've been invited.'

'Lydia, I have had more business meetings than I've had dinners.' Raul  spoke when she did not. 'But I can't ever remember asking anyone-ever-to  bring along their daughter, or rather their stepdaughter.'

She blushed.

Those creamy cheeks turned an unflattering red.

Lydia knew it-she could feel the fire, not just on her skin but building inside her at the inappropriateness he was alluding to.