world.
Marco Menici stared disbelievingly at the slim figure standing in front of him. Was this really his Rosanna, the shy child who’d always been so easy to ignore? He’d known she had a sweet voice, but tonight . . . why, she was singing in front of all these people as if she had been born to it! If only Antonia could have been here to see her daughter. Marco wiped the tears away from his eyes.
Luca Menici surreptitiously watched Marco’s expression and thanked God for helping him persuade his father to come. He too blinked away a tear. The die was cast. He knew nothing could stop Rosanna now.
As the last notes died away, there was silence from the audience. Rosanna stood in a trance as her mamma’s face, the face she had sung to for the past few minutes, disappeared. A storm of rapturous applause broke in her ears, then Luigi appeared at her side and together they took bow after bow. The other performers joined them as the audience rose to their feet.
Luigi raised his hands and begged for quiet. ‘Thank you for joining us here tonight. I hope our humble performance has brought you pleasure. Drinks will now be served, during which there will be a chance to mingle with our artistes.’
Another burst of applause followed his short speech, then he was surrounded by people clapping him on the back and shaking his hand. Rosanna stood alone, unsure what to do. A waitress offered her a glass of Prosecco. She took a sip and spluttered helplessly as the bubbles fizzed in the back of her throat.
‘ Piccolina , oh Rosanna, you were . . . magnificent!’ Luca was by her side. ‘You will be such a star one day – I have always known it.’
‘Where’s Papa? did he enjoy it? Was he angry that we didn’t tell him about the singing lessons?’ asked Rosanna anxiously.
‘When Signor Vincenzi announced that you’d been coming to him for five years, his face looked like thunder. But now he’s heard you sing, well . . .’ Luca chuckled. ‘He’s boasting to everybody that you’re his daughter.’
She looked out onto the terrace and saw Marco talking to several people. She realised he was smiling for the first time since her mamma had died.
‘Rosanna, I have someone I want you to meet.’ Luigi appeared by her side, accompanied by an elegantly dressed middle-aged man. ‘This is Signor Paolo de Vito, artistic director of La Scala, Milan.’
‘Signorina Menici, it’s delightful to meet you. Luigi has told me much about you. And having heard you sing, I have to say he was not exaggerating. Your performance tonight was breathtaking. As always, Luigi has done a wonderful job. He has a nose for special talent.’
Luigi shrugged modestly. ‘I can only work with the tools I am given.’
‘I think too, my friend, you have a little genius of your own. Would you not agree, Signorina Menici?’ Paolo smiled down at her.
‘Luigi has been wonderful to me,’ Rosanna replied shyly.
‘And he tells me your papa is here?’ continued Paolo.
‘Yes,’ answered Rosanna.
‘Well, if you would excuse me, I wish to speak to him. Will you introduce us, Luigi?’
Luca and Rosanna watched nervously from the other side of the terrace as Luigi introduced Paolo de Vito to Marco. The three men sat down and Luigi signalled to a waitress to bring more Prosecco.
Rosanna turned away. ‘I cannot bear to look,’ she said. ‘What do you think they’re talking about?’
‘You know what they’ll be saying. After your performance tonight, there’s no need for false modesty.’ Luca turned his attention to a heavily bejewelled lady and her husband who had come up to congratulate Rosanna on her performance.
Eventually, Luigi stood up and beckoned to Rosanna and Luca to join them.
‘Rosanna, bravissima !’ Marco stood up and kissed his daughter on both cheeks. ‘Why did you not tell me you were having singing lessons all this time? If I had known, I would of course have helped. You are a bad girl, eh?’ Her papa smiled. ‘Well,
Marco Menici stared disbelievingly at the slim figure standing in front of him. Was this really his Rosanna, the shy child who’d always been so easy to ignore? He’d known she had a sweet voice, but tonight . . . why, she was singing in front of all these people as if she had been born to it! If only Antonia could have been here to see her daughter. Marco wiped the tears away from his eyes.
Luca Menici surreptitiously watched Marco’s expression and thanked God for helping him persuade his father to come. He too blinked away a tear. The die was cast. He knew nothing could stop Rosanna now.
As the last notes died away, there was silence from the audience. Rosanna stood in a trance as her mamma’s face, the face she had sung to for the past few minutes, disappeared. A storm of rapturous applause broke in her ears, then Luigi appeared at her side and together they took bow after bow. The other performers joined them as the audience rose to their feet.
Luigi raised his hands and begged for quiet. ‘Thank you for joining us here tonight. I hope our humble performance has brought you pleasure. Drinks will now be served, during which there will be a chance to mingle with our artistes.’
Another burst of applause followed his short speech, then he was surrounded by people clapping him on the back and shaking his hand. Rosanna stood alone, unsure what to do. A waitress offered her a glass of Prosecco. She took a sip and spluttered helplessly as the bubbles fizzed in the back of her throat.
‘ Piccolina , oh Rosanna, you were . . . magnificent!’ Luca was by her side. ‘You will be such a star one day – I have always known it.’
‘Where’s Papa? did he enjoy it? Was he angry that we didn’t tell him about the singing lessons?’ asked Rosanna anxiously.
‘When Signor Vincenzi announced that you’d been coming to him for five years, his face looked like thunder. But now he’s heard you sing, well . . .’ Luca chuckled. ‘He’s boasting to everybody that you’re his daughter.’
She looked out onto the terrace and saw Marco talking to several people. She realised he was smiling for the first time since her mamma had died.
‘Rosanna, I have someone I want you to meet.’ Luigi appeared by her side, accompanied by an elegantly dressed middle-aged man. ‘This is Signor Paolo de Vito, artistic director of La Scala, Milan.’
‘Signorina Menici, it’s delightful to meet you. Luigi has told me much about you. And having heard you sing, I have to say he was not exaggerating. Your performance tonight was breathtaking. As always, Luigi has done a wonderful job. He has a nose for special talent.’
Luigi shrugged modestly. ‘I can only work with the tools I am given.’
‘I think too, my friend, you have a little genius of your own. Would you not agree, Signorina Menici?’ Paolo smiled down at her.
‘Luigi has been wonderful to me,’ Rosanna replied shyly.
‘And he tells me your papa is here?’ continued Paolo.
‘Yes,’ answered Rosanna.
‘Well, if you would excuse me, I wish to speak to him. Will you introduce us, Luigi?’
Luca and Rosanna watched nervously from the other side of the terrace as Luigi introduced Paolo de Vito to Marco. The three men sat down and Luigi signalled to a waitress to bring more Prosecco.
Rosanna turned away. ‘I cannot bear to look,’ she said. ‘What do you think they’re talking about?’
‘You know what they’ll be saying. After your performance tonight, there’s no need for false modesty.’ Luca turned his attention to a heavily bejewelled lady and her husband who had come up to congratulate Rosanna on her performance.
Eventually, Luigi stood up and beckoned to Rosanna and Luca to join them.
‘Rosanna, bravissima !’ Marco stood up and kissed his daughter on both cheeks. ‘Why did you not tell me you were having singing lessons all this time? If I had known, I would of course have helped. You are a bad girl, eh?’ Her papa smiled. ‘Well,
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