Maggie, of course, was oblivious to the million scenarios that could unfold simply by shaking the notions of ‘unexpected guest’, ‘secret’ and ‘surprise’ into one combustible mix. As always, I felt a little rush of self-loathing that I’d allowed myself to play along. What kind of grown woman sneaked broken crockery out of the house to dispose of in a litter bin instead of simply saying, ‘I dropped a plate.’ Now I couldn’t even recall Massimo making a fuss about me breaking anything. I just felt like he might.
Maybe it was all in my head. Perhaps the antidepressants I’d taken after Sandro was born had permanently skewed my grip on reality. Maybe this time I really did need them, to shake me out of my warped thinking, seeing problems where there weren’t any.
I forced myself to believe it would all turn out okay, taking Massimo’s briefcase and coat from him and smiling, or at least, managing to turn up the corners of my mouth.
Massimo threw his arm round my shoulders. Today he certainly seemed in an expansive mood: ‘Let’s get everyone in for a cup of tea. Francesca can tell us about her fantastic win.’ He turned and nudged her on the arm. ‘Brilliant, you are. I’m so proud of you, Cessie, you little swimming star. I’d love it if Sandro took after you.’
Maggie’s head snapped round, as though Massimo had said something odd.
Massimo smiled at her. ‘What? Are you going to give me a lecture about comparing the kids again? You know us Farinellis are ridiculously competitive, it’s in our genes.’
Maggie seemed to shake herself. ‘Yes, I’m beginning to see that.’
Unlike the rest of us, Maggie was hopeless at hiding her emotions. I hoped I never bought her a present she didn’t like. But it wasn’t like her to be snippy and difficult. Maybe she was just exhausted after a day of biting her tongue with Francesca, though actually they seemed a little more relaxed with each other.
I paused on the doorstep, waiting to warn Massimo before we went in that Dad was here, when Maggie said, ‘I don’t want to intrude if Massimo hasn’t seen your dad yet.’
I wanted to back away, afraid of seeing Massimo’s expression, the big cloud that preceded a rant, the invective forming on his lips.
But all that happened was that his eyes flew open wide. ‘Your dad?’
Maggie rushed to apologise. ‘Sorry, sorry, I didn’t realise Massimo didn’t know. I spoilt the surprise.’
Massimo just laughed. ‘You dark horse, Lala. Kept that quiet. I didn’t know he was well enough to come out for the day.’
Maggie tried to make up for putting her foot in it. ‘It was my idea. Mum’s been helping, so if you need her at all, she’s just next door.’
Massimo loosened his tie. ‘Come on in, Maggie, I’m sure he’ll be fine.’
Maggie turned to me. ‘What do you think is best, Lara? I don’t want to overwhelm him with lots of people arriving at once.’
Francesca piped up. ‘Can we just go in for a minute? I want to show Sandro my medal.’
I couldn’t refuse, so I smiled and ushered them through the front door. Dad was playing ‘Lily the Pink’ in the sitting room, with Sandro looking rather bemused at the gusto with which Dad was singing the words. Given that they were rather nonsensical at the best of times, I couldn’t blame him for taking the opportunity to disappear into the playroom to watch telly with Francesca.
Maggie breezed in. ‘Hello Robert! Loving the singing. You’re pretty nifty on the keyboard, aren’t you?’
My heart constricted as I saw him force himself to his feet, the gentlemanly habit of standing for the lady in the room still there, hovering under the surface of the person he used to be. He put his head on one side, trying to understand who she was.
She immediately put her hand out. ‘I’m Maggie, Lara’s sister-in-law.’
Dad nodded. ‘Sister-in-law.’
The words sounded uncertain in his mouth, as though he was repeating a foreign word without knowing the meaning.
Massimo strode in. ‘Hello there. What a lovely surprise. Haven’t seen you in ages.’
All the tension I’d been clinging onto dissolved. I’d been so wrong about Massimo. He did want the best for us all. Of course there were moments when we wound each other up, but I’d blown those out of proportion. Half the time I’d probably been oversensitive anyway.
Dad’s face fell. He turned to me. ‘Who is this?’
I put my hand on Massimo’s back, pushing apology out of my fingertips, trying to transmit calm to him, hoping he wouldn’t take it personally. ‘It’s Massimo, Dad. My husband.’