As soon as I heard the bell, I ran to the door. I waved them in. ‘Lovely to see you again. Was the train okay?’
Ben stood back a bit, shyer than I remembered, but then last time, we hadn’t been about to spring the whole Farinelli family on him. Dawn had jumped at the chance when I’d suggested it to her. ‘Ben’s asked loads of questions about his dad’s side of the family, but over the years, I just kept sticking my head in the sand. But I’m afraid he’ll get chatting to Francesca on the swimming circuit and put two and two together. Even though I gave Ben my surname, he knows his dad’s name and that he was from Brighton. As long as Massimo isn’t there, I’ll give it a go. I’d love to see Nico and Francesca again.’ She’d laughed as she added, ‘Not so sure about Anna.’
I gestured for them to stay in the hallway.
I marched into the sitting room and clapped my hands. ‘Right. Got a little birthday surprise. A couple of people who are really looking forward to meeting you all.’ Nico, who was in on the plan, might as well have had ‘I bloody hope you know what you’re doing’ tattooed on his forehead. Sam’s cake consumption slowed long enough for him to raise an eyebrow but not long enough for him to stop arguing with Francesca about who really needed the orange Smartie. But Anna must have picked up on something in my voice. She straightened up like a dog expecting his owner’s key in the door at any time.
I shouted through to the hall. ‘Come on in!’
Lara led the way.
I kept my eyes on Anna to see if she realised who it was without me introducing them. Her gasp told me she did.
‘You brought me Beniamino!’
She was straight out of her seat. I did have a little moment of panic when I imagined her having a heart attack from the excitement and crumpling onto my lovely slate floor, but my overactive imagination had to be content with her walking up to Ben, putting her hands on his shoulders and saying, ‘My grandson. Thank you. Thank you so much for coming.’
Ben was surprisingly tactile for a fifteen-year-old boy, kissing Anna on both cheeks before giving her a heartfelt hug.
Lara put her arm round Dawn as she fought back tears. ‘I didn’t come here to cry.’
Mum broke the tension by blurting out, ‘Lordy, I keep expecting Noel Edmonds to pop through the door in his Christmas outfit! Mags, I think we all need a drink!’
Anna wasn’t to be outdone. ‘Nico, bubbles!’
I shot Mum a grateful look as she clamped her lips together to stop herself imitating Anna.
And then everyone was talking at once, shaking hands, kissing cheeks, commenting on family resemblances.
Nico handed a glass of champagne to Dawn, asking, ‘So you were already pregnant when Caitlin was expecting Francesca?’
I deliberately wandered off, wanting to give Nico space to talk honestly, to reminisce for a moment without ‘what came next’ spoiling every single memory he had. Despite Anna’s wheedling, he refused to have any contact with Massimo. Lara had almost certainly told Dawn about the affair, but I was sure Nico wouldn’t rush to discuss it. He must have alluded to it though because I overheard Dawn say, ‘Your brother was very difficult to resist once he’d set his mind to something.’
I wondered if the massive family rift could ever be healed. And whether it would be in anyone’s interests. I felt a rush of protectiveness as I imagined Lara and Nico in the same room as Massimo. He’d try and make light of all of it, somehow tricking us into thinking we’d overreacted. I wouldn’t be on the #ForgiveMassimo team anytime soon.
And anyway, we had our own mini-Massimo in Ben, without the bastard behaviour.
Sam was straight in with a hundred questions – ‘How many swimming trophies have you got? Twenty-seven? Francesca’s only got nine,’ creating an awkward pause while Ben came up with a tactful reply. Francesca seemed rather overawed, but whether that was because she was taking in the fact that she had a new cousin or because he was the god of the swimming circuit and ridiculously handsome, I wasn’t sure. I did know that a lot of kudos from her friends angling for an introduction was heading her way.
After a while, Sam got bored with the whole trip down the Farinelli memory lane and demanded that Ben played table tennis with him. I watched them on the patio, loving Ben for tolerating Sam’s erratic smash style, which was brilliant when it worked but was let down by its ten per cent success rate. Eventually, Ben asked Sandro to have a game. Much to Sam’s irritation since we’d bought the table tennis table at the beginning of the summer, Sandro had found his sporting niche. He won the best of three. Ben high-fived him, saying, ‘Beaten fair and square by my little brother!’
Sandro’s face was a picture. His eyes widened and a huge grin spread over his face. I had to clear my throat to stop my eyes welling up as he said, ‘Can I call you my brother?’
Ben ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Well, I’m actually your half-brother. But we don’t have to tell people that.’
Not to be outdone, Sam piped up, ‘You can be my brother too if you like. And Francesca’s.’
At a later date, I’d have to help Sam grasp the fact that you couldn’t just go around muscling in on other people’s siblings and claiming them as your own.
I wanted to capture this moment in time and take a photo of this funny old family but didn’t want to intrude on the emotions of the moment – the apologies, the explanations, the reminiscing, the hope for the future. Who would have predicted that Anna, who’d so often sneered at the very mention of Dawn’s name, would now be tugging at her sleeve and begging her to keep in touch? That Mum would be belting out ‘My Way’ giving a demonstration of the sing-song she’d had with Robert last time she visited him? That the intimidating Farinellis would turn out to be just like any other family with their secrets but also their strengths – a right hotchpotch of half-brothers, ex-wives, new wives, unlikely friends and even more unlikely allies. It was the human equivalent of Nico’s potting shed where bits were grafted on, cuttings taken and planted elsewhere, half-dead twigs watered, fed and given a new lease of life.
Francesca tapped me on the arm. ‘I forgot to give you your birthday card.’
‘Thank you.’ There was something in her face that made me not want to open it. I hoped it wasn’t a jokey evil stepmother card I’d have to laugh off but secretly be cut to the quick. She stood there all expectantly. I prepared my face.
I pulled out a picture of a Great Dane. My voice came out all false. ‘Oh, isn’t he cute? That’s lovely.’
I dreaded opening it up in case it just said a bald ‘From Francesca’ like the year before.
I steeled myself and tried not to make it obvious I was reading through the tiniest corner of one eye.
‘To my second mum, have a lovely birthday, I’m so glad Dad married you.’
A Letter from Kerry
Hello there.