a little money, but he would still, in all important senses, have nothing.
He was cut adrift from his family and everything he knew, and he had no way of going home, because home no longer existed.
Gino opened his eyes to darkness. He must have slept again after all, so deeply that evening had passed into night. His watch told him it was nearly midnight.
He rose, feeling strangely well rested after his turbulent sleep. Looking into the corridor he saw that the rest of the house was dark and quiet.
The other guests must have returned, eaten and gone to bed, shutting their doors. He could see some of those doors in the gloom, all alike.
Which one was the bathroom? How did a stranger find out? Try each one? Hell!
To his relief he heard the front door open and looked over the stair rail to see Laura coming in.
‘Psst!’ he said urgently. ‘Aiuto!’
‘Pardon?’
‘Help. T’imploro!’
‘Why, what’s the matter?’
‘I need—’ in his panic his English deserted him. ‘Un gabinetto,’ he said. ‘Ti prego—ti prego, un gabinetto.’
Laura knew no Italian but she guessed the frantic note in his voice was the same in every language.
‘Here,’ she said, opening a door under the stairs.
‘Grazie, grazie!’
He leapt down the stairs three at a time, shot into the tiny bathroom, and she heard the lock. Grinning in sympathy she slipped upstairs to check Nikki, who was asleep. As she returned to the kitchen and put on the kettle, Gino emerged looking a lot happier.
‘Thank you,’ he said fervently. ‘I’m sorry I shouted at you in Italian. Gabinetto means—’
‘I think I have a pretty good idea of what it means by now,’ she said, and they both laughed.
The kettle boiled, but when she turned to it he stopped her.
‘You sit down,’ he said. ‘I make the tea. You must be very tired.’
‘Thanks.’ She flopped gratefully into a chair. ‘Do you know how to make English tea?’
‘I watched you this afternoon. There, did I do it right?’
The tea was delicious.
‘How many evenings do you work behind a bar?’ he wanted to know.
‘Three, usually.’
‘On top of running this place? When do you have a life?’
‘Nikki is my life. Nothing else matters.’
‘And you are alone?’ he asked delicately.
‘You mean, do I have a husband? I did have. We were very happy, until Nikki was four years old. She adored Jack and he seemed to adore her. Anyone seeing them together would have said he was the perfect father.
‘Then something happened to her face. It began to grow too much, and in ways that it shouldn’t. You can see that her forehead is too large. And Jack left. He just upped and left.’
‘Maria Vergine!’ he exclaimed softly. ‘Un criminale!’
‘If that means what I think it does, yes.’
‘And the piccina, how much does she know?’
‘She knows that her father rejected her. She pretends not to, for my sake. But she knows.’
‘But is there no cure?’
‘Eventually they might be able to do some surgery that puts things right. But not now, while her bones are still growing. In the meantime, she has to wait and suffer. People can be so cruel. They think because she looks different she must be stupid.’
‘No, no, she’s a very bright little girl.’
‘I know, but they tell their children not to play with her. Sometimes they try to be “nice”, but there’s something self-conscious about it, as though they’re congratulating themselves on how nice they’re being.’
‘How does she manage at school?’
‘She’s got a few good friends, and most of the teachers are decent. But some of the other kids bully and tease her, and one teacher actually dared to tell me I should take her out of school because she “couldn’t fit in”. She said Nikki needed a place for children with special needs.’
Gino swore softly.
‘I told her the only special need Nikki had was to be treated with intelligence and understanding. Then I complained to the headmistress, who, luckily, is one of the good guys, and I didn’t have any more trouble from that teacher. But there are always plenty more where she came from.
‘With luck, Nikki will be all right one day. But by that time she’ll have been through all these experiences.’
‘And what happens to her now will mark her for life,’ he said, nodding.
‘You made her so happy in the park today, because you didn’t seem to notice. You looked straight at her and didn’t register anything—not shock, or surprise, nothing. It was—oh, I can’t tell you how wonderful it was, and what it meant to her.’
Gino concentrated on his tea, hoping that his unease didn’t show in his face. He was guiltily aware that he did not deserve her praise. The fact was that he’d been too wrapped up in himself and his own troubles that morning to be aware of anything else.
Laura was still talking eagerly.
‘She’s got this theory that someone must have cast a magic spell, so that you didn’t really see her face.’
‘In a way she’s right,’ he said. ‘But the spell was my own self-absorption. I was so busy feeling sorry for myself that I actually didn’t see her for several moments, even though I was looking at her. So I haven’t earned your kindness.’
‘But don’t you see, that doesn’t matter? You made her happy without even knowing. So maybe she’s right, and it really was a magic spell.’
He nodded. ‘Who cares about the reason if it gave her what she needed? Her face doesn’t matter. She’s a lovely child.’
‘Yes, she is,’ Laura said eagerly. ‘But all she sees is what she reads in the eyes of other people.’
‘I promise you, she’ll never suffer from what she sees in my eyes,’ Gino said seriously.
‘Thank you. You have no idea how important that is.’
Next day at breakfast he met some of the other boarders. Sadie and Claudia, the sisters, were quiet, thin and middle-aged. Their lives revolved around computers, and they could launch into a discussion of the latest technology at the drop of a hat. They worked in Compulor, a nearby computer factory, where they both held positions of responsibility.
Mrs Baxter was the eldest, a bright-eyed little bird of a woman, who looked Gino up and down, and gave a grunt which seemed to imply approval.
Sadie and Claudia were also friendly.
‘We’ve been to Italy,’ Sadie confided.
‘There was a very interesting computer fair in Milan,’ Claudia added. ‘Do you know Milan, Signor Farnese?’
‘Gino, please,’ he said at once. ‘No, I’ve never been to Milan. Tuscany is my part of the world.’
They were full of intelligent questions about Tuscany which Gino answered courteously but reluctantly. He didn’t want to dwell on his home just now.
‘We don’t usually see Bert and Fred at breakfast,’ Laura explained. ‘Fred doesn’t come home until the nightclub