Just South of Rome by Judy Nunn Read Free Book Online Page A

collecting the dishes that Annita was methodically and efficiently stacking. The night was clearly over and I longed to go to bed.
    Rosella and Natale joined me at the table. ‘But I thought you were going to sing for us, Rosella,’ I said. The sooner we started, the sooner we could get it over with.
    ‘Yes, yes!’ Umberto exclaimed. He took a CD from his pocket and flourished it at me. ‘Here, she sing. You listen, you listen.’ He dashed over to the sound system.
    ‘They play this song on the radio,’ Rosella said, glowing with pride.
    ‘Umberto has friend in the radio.’ It was Natale. I was surprised to hear him speak at last. ‘He ask for his friend to play this song.’ Natale glowed with a pride that equalled Rosella’s. ‘He say he will make Rosella a star. Umberto is good to Rosella.’ The two of them nodded, held hands and smiled fondly at Umberto as he returned to the table.
    The speakers started to hiss … Then came the sound of a third-rate band playing disco music … ‘Is good, si ?’ Umberto pulled his chair up to the table. ‘I have friend with studio. He has band …’ Natale put his finger to his lips … Then, finally, there was Rosella, twittering faintly and prettily in the background:
    ‘ Ah, ah, ah, ah, stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive.
    Ah, ah, ah, ah …’
    It took me a while to discern the fact that she was singing in English. When she wasn’t being drowned out by the ghastly backing, her accent was so appalling that it sounded like a different language altogether.
    Rosella herself was leaning on the table, hands clasped beneath her chin, eyes staring radiantly up at the ceiling, lips mouthing the words of a song that had been a hit nearly forty years ago. Natale and Umberto were both beaming at me and I was left with nowhere to look. I fixed my sights on the nearest speaker, painted on a smile and nodded along to the rhythm, although even that part was difficult to discern every now and then.
    The song seemed to last forever. Just when I thought it had finished, off she’d go again:
    ‘ Ah, ah, ah, ah, stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive.
    Ah, ah, ah, ah …’
    And I’d have to go back to my nodding. Finally, the sounds faded to the hiss of the speakers and I realised that it was over.
    I applauded. There was nothing else I could do, they were all waiting expectantly. ‘Very good, Rosella, what a pretty voice you have.’
    ‘You think?’ she asked, breathless with excitement.
    ‘Yes. Very pretty.’ The sound system was making some ugly noises and Umberto left to rescue the CD. ‘Do you sing songs in Italian?’ I asked, trying to make it sound innocent.
    ‘Oh no,’ the answer was most definite, ‘is not fashionable.’
    ‘You take this,’ Umberto was back, thrusting the CD into my hands. ‘You take this and you make Rosella a star in the Sydney radio, si ?’
    I looked into his beaming, asinine face. It was in full contortion, eyebrows and moustache working overtime and, again, I wanted to punch him. But then I looked atRosella, the breathless expectation, the pathetic hope in her eyes. And I knew I couldn’t make a scene.
    ‘I’m going to London.’ I handed the CD back to Umberto.
    ‘You take it to London.’ He thrust it at me once again.
    ‘I don’t know anyone in London.’ This time I placed the CD on the table in front of Rosella. ‘I wish you every success with your career, Rosella.’ I knew I had to leave before my temper got the better of me and I let Umberto know what I thought of him in no uncertain terms. But, as I rose to leave, I saw the shadow of disappointment in Rosella’s eyes. I couldn’t leave her like that.
    ‘You have a very pretty voice, Rosella.’ The shadow departed, she glowed once more. ‘And you have the looks to go with it too.’ I smiled. ‘Goodnight.’ As I left, she radiated happiness, it was that easy. Bloody Umberto, I thought, how dare he delude her with such false hope?
    I was still angry when I got to my room. A