of visiting Jim’s family. He was worried that seeing the new baby would get her worked up. But she was determined to be strong.
The last few days in Italy had been wonderful and she’d worked hard to get over her disappointment. Now that they were home again, she would get on with her life. She would calmly congratulate Jim and Maria on the newest addition to their family and hand over the gifts. And that would be all. No fuss. No tears.
Before she could knock against the peeling paint, the door opened and a trio of eager little faces beamed up at them.
‘Hello, darlings!’ Claire bent low, opened her arms to Tony, Luke and Toto and was swamped with boisterous hugs and kisses. ‘My, look at you. You’re all growing far too quickly.’
Over their heads she saw her sister-in-law, Maria, coming towards her with her sweet toddler Francesca in her arms. Claire kissed Maria and thought she looked pale and tired. How could she not be tired with this house full of demanding little people?
And now there was another.
She entered the house and looked around her, her stomach bunching nervously. She could do this! There was no sign of a bassinet and she wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed.
When Tony had been born, the bassinet had stayed proudly in this front room so that every visitor had to tiptoe and whisper while they admired Jim and Maria Tremaine’s son and heir.
She guessed that the new baby must be tucked away from her noisy brothers and sister, asleep in a back bedroom.
Behind her, Adam piled the gifts they’d brought onto a coffee-table, while Tony and Luke tried to tackle him to the floor for their favourite uncle sport—wrestling. He’d always been a great hit with his nephews.
‘Hold on, tigers, let me say hello to your mother first,’ he said, laughing.
As he ducked his dark head to kiss Maria’s cheek, Claire noticed that even her careworn sister-in-law brightened with a spark of feminine interest.
Adam always had an instantaneous effect on women—any woman, any age—and every time Claire saw it, she marvelled that she’d been the lucky one he’d wanted to marry.
‘Jim’s probably still fighting his way through the peak-hour traffic, but, please, sit down,’ Maria said.
Claire wanted to ask about the new baby, but instead she took her seat and pointed to the gifts. ‘We brought you some souvenirs that can’t wait till Christmas and there’s a panettone from Siena.’
An image of the narrow, ancient, cobbled streets of Siena, dark and crowded in by tall medieval buildings, flashed through her mind as she handed Maria the boxed traditional cake and she felt a pang of sympathy for her brother’s wife, who had never seen the fascinating homeland of her family.
‘Thank you,’ Maria said, waiting until her guests were seated before she took her place in an old lounge chair. ‘Did you like Italy?’ She frowned as she tried to poke some stuffing back through a tear in the upholstery.
‘We loved it,’ Claire said gently. ‘We’ve brought you lots of photos.’
The children, their dark eyes big with excitement, crowded closer and it seemed as good a time as any to hand out all the things she and Adam had brought for the family. For the next few moments there was a flurry of unwrapping and cries of delight.
Maria set Claire’s gift, the delicate Venetian glass angel, on the sideboard and Claire felt a stab of discomfort as she noticed that it looked sadly out of place next to the roughly painted nativity scene the children had made from play dough. In this little house, it suddenly looked as unsuitable and showy as an exotic orchid in a bunch of humble field daisies.
The little layette she’d bought in Florence was left till last.
‘This is for the baby,’ Claire said, handing Maria the slim parcel wrapped in tissue paper and hoping no one noticed how her hands shook.
‘Oh,’ gasped Maria as she pulled the tissue aside and drew out the contents. She held the dainty garments out in front of her. ‘How—how exquisite.’
Tony ran to his mother’s side. ‘Rosa will look like a baby princess.’
Claire and Adam exchanged a quick glance and Claire read mild concern in her husband’s eyes. She looked again at the delicate baby clothes trimmed with exquisite hand-stitched embroidery and then at her sister-in-law’s simple cotton dress that had gone out of fashion at least five summers ago.
Her eyes strayed to the hovering circle of happy, bright-eyed children. Their feet were bare and they all wore obvious hand-me-downs—tee shirts and shorts, faded from much washing.
Claire compressed her lips tightly as she realised how impractical she’d been. Maria wouldn’t have time to hand wash and take special care of this delicate baby wear. Rosa would no doubt spend her first long, sizzling summer in their hot little box of a house, dressed in little more than a nappy and a cotton singlet.
‘I couldn’t resist it,’ she said weakly.
‘It’s beautiful. Thank you so much. Rosa will wear it to mass on Christmas Day and be the best-dressed baby in Sydney.’
Maria’s eyes shone warmly and Claire felt a little better. She looked again to Adam for support, but he’d finally succumbed to a wrestling match on the floor with Tony and Luke. The two boys were gleefully bouncing on top of him while little Toto watched and cheered.
Before she could indulge in second thoughts about the suitability of her gifts, a lot of things happened quickly. Jim strolled through the front door with a six-pack of beer under his arm. Toto tried to join the wrestling, banged his head on the corner of the coffee table and began to bellow loudly. The telephone rang and a tiny little wail sounded from down the hallway.
After a quick ‘Hi, sis,’ and a peck on the cheek, Jim dealt with the phone call. Only Maria could console Toto.
‘Would you like me to see to the baby?’ Claire asked.
Maria looked at her over the top of Toto’s curly head. Her eyes were underlined by heavy, dark circles. She looked dreadfully tired. ‘Thanks,’ she mouthed above her little boy’s wails.
And as Claire crossed the room before heading down the hall she fancied she saw tears in Maria’s eyes.
The baby’s cries were coming from the main bedroom at the back of the house. As soon as Claire entered the darkened room, her eyes flew to the bassinet in the corner by the curtained window.
Making her way around the bed, she stepped over a mattress on the floor. No doubt it was where Francesca slept. Then she held her breath as she saw the tiny form in the basket.
Rosa Claire Tremaine, just a few weeks old.
She couldn’t help her reaction. Her throat grew painfully choked and her eyes brimmed with a rush of hot tears as she stepped closer.
The little baby lay on her side in the simple, unadorned crib. There wasn’t even a ribbon threaded through the cane work and, as Claire had guessed she would be, the tiny girl was dressed in a simple white singlet and nappy.
Her little face was
