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risk them stopping me.
Little else in my life changed. I went to school and worked hard at my French and my English. I went to Mass twice a week and waited on tables in the café every day. Other girls in my class were dreaming of film stars and experimenting with make-up and cigarettes, but I only had one dream: to one day sing on the stage at La Scala with the man who had begun it all for me. I thought of Roberto often and believed – hoped – he sometimes thought of me.
Most days, Carlotta would bring her lovely daughter, Ella, to the café to visit us. Looking back, I realise she was terribly unhappy. The vivacity she’d always possessed had left her and the sparkle had disappeared from her eyes. Of course, at the time, I had no idea why . . .

4
    Naples, May 1972
    ‘Rosanna, welcome. Please come in and sit down.’ Luigi indicated a chair by the enormous marble fireplace in the music room.
    Rosanna did as he asked and Luigi sat down in a chair opposite her.
    ‘For the past five years you’ve been coming to me twice a month. I don’t believe you have ever missed a lesson.’
    ‘No, I haven’t,’ agreed Rosanna.
    ‘And in those five years we have mastered the basics of Bel Canto. We have performed the exercises so often you could sing them in your sleep, yes?’
    ‘Yes, Luigi.’
    ‘We have seen performances at Teatro San Carlo, we have studied the great operas, learnt their stories and explored the personalities of the characters you may one day play.’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘So, now your voice is a perfectly prepared canvas that is ready to be given colour and shape and turned into a masterpiece. Rosanna’ – Luigi paused before continuing – ‘I have taught you all I know. I can teach you no more.’
    ‘But . . . but, Luigi . . . I . . .’
    He reached over and took her hands in his. ‘Rosanna, please. Do you remember when you first came to see me with your brother? And I told you that it was too early to tell whether your gift would grow as you did?’
    Rosanna nodded.
    ‘Well, it has grown, grown into something that is too rare for me to keep to myself. Rosanna, you need to move on now. You’re almost seventeen years of age. You must go to a proper school of music that can give you what I cannot.’
    ‘But—’
    ‘I know, I know,’ sighed Luigi, ‘your mamma and papa are still unaware of your visits here. I’m sure they hope that when you leave school this summer, you’ll find a nice boy, marry and give them many grandchildren. Am I right?’
    ‘Yes, Luigi.’ Rosanna winced at his accurate appraisal.
    ‘Well, Rosanna, let me tell you something. God has given you a gift, but with that gift comes hardship, decisions that will be difficult to make. And it’s only you who can decide whether you’re brave enough to take them. The choice is yours.’
    ‘Luigi, during the past five years I’ve lived for my lessons with you. It hasn’t mattered if Papa has shouted at me, or if Mamma made me wait on tables every night, because I could always think of coming here.’ Rosanna’s eyes glistened with tears. ‘What I want more than anything else in the world is to sing. But what am I to do? My parents have no money to pay for me to go to a school of music.’
    ‘Please don’t upset yourself, Rosanna. All I wanted to hear is that you wish with a passion to make singing your future. I am, of course, aware of your parents’ financial situation, and that’s where I might be able to help you. I’m having a soirée, a musical evening, here in six weeks’ time,’ Luigi explained. ‘All my pupils will be performing. And to this soirée I’ve invited my good friend Paolo de Vito, who’s the artistic director at the great opera house of La Scala in Milan. Paolo is also a director of La Scala’s scuola di musica , which, as you know, is the best school of music in Italy. I’ve told Paolo all about you and he’s prepared to come all the way from Milan to hear you sing. If he thinks, as I do, that