Rosemary By Any Other Name

By Anna Clarkson

Rosemary finds herself alone, apart from her sisters baby in a foreign land on the run. What she needs is a knight on a white horse what she gets is an Italian in a rusty car. Together they gain wealth acquire two children and finally find love and happiness.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Anna Clarkson
• Release date: Oct 27, 2013
• ISBN: 9781310358371

Anna Clarkson

Anna is English and lives in Oxfordshire within half an hour's drive of her immediate family (except for a niece who with her partner has been exiled to Scotland). Currently single she lives in a household that contains seven cats. Six of them Birmans.Anna has worked as a Civil Servant, in a bank, as a cleaner, a child minder and in retail.When not working or writing Anna is gardening, growing fruit and veg and can thoroughly recommend Salad Blue Potatoes, try serving purple blue mash to your family.

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Rosemary By Any Other Name

By

Anna Clarkson

Copyright 2013 Anna Clarkson

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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The characters and events in this book are completely imaginary they bear no relation to any real person or events.

Chapter One

It was mid-morning as a tired, hungry and greatly discouraged Rosemary trudged slowly through the rain up a mountain road that seemed to go on forever. The backpack she carried was getting heavier with every step she took, and the straps were digging uncomfortably into her shoulders. Her day having started badly had grown steadily worse and worse. She'd overslept and consequently and despite spending some of her precious store of money on a taxi to the bus station, they'd missed their coach.

The highly important coach which she had been relying on to get them over the border and into the comparative safety of Switzerland. Desperate to get out of Italy as quickly as possible Rosemary had at first been only to pleased to accept a lift when she was offered one by the very friendly middle-aged man who had also been making inquiries at the coach station.

What she had not considered was that the pleasant man giving her the lift would expect payment in kind! He had seemed so nice middle-aged plump and balding he had talked about his wife and family. He had a daughter almost her own age of whom he was very proud, so pretty, so well behaved not like some of these modern girls chasing after boys all the time. Then he had made a heavy pass at Rosemary and turned nasty when very shocked and angry, she had turned him down good and hard.

He had been even angrier than she was, swearing nastily at her in before driving off the main roads into the middle of nowhere and dumping her at the roadside. Rosemary knowing, she should be pleased that they had escaped so lightly had consoled herself with the thought that things were already so bad that they could only get better. It had been at this point that the rain had started.

Lost in depression and trying desperately not to give in to the tears that pricked at her eyes, Rosemary didn't hear the car coming up the narrow road fast behind her. It was a voice calling out to her in Italian that drew her attention to the fact that they were no longer alone. A small shabby car well provided with rust and liberally splashed with mud had stopped close beside her. The driver getting no reply repeated his remark.

Non parlo Italiano. Rosemary offered listlessly. Sai parla Inglese. The driver scowled at her from under arrogant black eyebrows and immediately switched to heavily accented but perfect English.

Why it is the English never learn any tongue but their own? He remarked in a cold controlled voice.

Not all the British. Rosemary returned in excellent Spanish before switching to French and continuing, Are as insular as you appear to believe. She finished in fluent German, Especially in today's European trading partnership.

It seems I should apologise. The voice from the car remarked coldly, no trace of apology in his tone at all. You had better get in. I'll give you a lift. Where are you going?

Switzerland. Rosemary told him shortly.

She didn't really want to risk taking another lift, but it was either that or walking for whoever knew how many miles in the rain and she had no idea how far the next town or village was. Rosemary edged slowly around the car taking of her backpack and putting it onto the back seat before reluctantly climbing into the front passenger seat.

The driver she noted, as she struggled with the seat belt, was in his late twenties and very good looking in a dark Italian fashion. When she continued her struggles with the seat belt, he impatiently stopped the car again and leaned over to help her. However, his composure received a shock when he put his arm across her and felt something move under her jacket.

Are you keeping something alive under there? He exclaimed, showing the first sign of animation.

Rosemary sighed ruefully and undid her jacket exposing the sleeping Ricardo in his baby sling. While she didn't understand the next remark the car driver ejected that didn't stop her glaring at him at him and snapping fiercely.

I'd rather you didn't swear in front of the baby.

Isn't it a little young to understand? The driver questioned indifferently raising his eyebrows at her tone and then as she struggled out of the jacket he added thoughtfully, I thought you were a boy.

He took the jacket from her and threw it carelessly onto the back seat then watched as she carefully threaded the seat belt between herself and the baby sling. She was very young he observed perhaps sixteen or seventeen and while far too thin (as so many young girls were these day's) was quite definitely female.

The baby he noted was also very young, probably just a few weeks old. It was olive skinned with a thatch of black hair, while in contrast the girl was red headed with cool blue eyes and a very pale skin. He indicated the arrangement she had contrived with the seat belt.

That looks very uncomfortable. He remarked in his cold voice as he started to drive on again.

It is a little, but it's much safer for the baby. Rosemary returned quickly.

May I ask its name and yours also of course? He questioned and Rosemary wondered if he was always this formal and why such a cold manner.

His name is Richard. Rosemary returned emphasising his. ‘It’ indeed! Anger gnawed at her mind.

And yours. He questioned again.

Mine. Rosemary said her mind going blank. Mary. She managed finally relief clear in her voice.

Really. He returned sceptically lifting his eyebrows again; he didn't believe her that was obvious.

Mary Rose Lamb. Rosemary returned neatly, pleased with herself. And yours, your name. The driver paused for a moment before he offered slowly. Vittorio.

Rosemary smiled she knew this wasn't true but since he didn't believe in the name, she'd given she could hardly challenge his. Then in sudden amusement she remembered the cowboy book she had been lent on the long aircraft journey across the Atlantic.

That would be your summer name, would it? She asked, he glanced at her puzzled and raised his brows in question. Well, she had succeeded in startling him again, though he was trying not to show it.

What are you doing on this road? Vittorio asked thoughtfully. Hardly the place to hitchhike. I would have expected you to choose the main roads. Should you be hitching on your own anyway, it could be very dangerous?

I'm not on my own. Rosemary pointed out. And I didn't set out to hitchhike. Only Ricardo.

I thought the child’s name was Richard. Vittorio interrupted quickly. Rosemary started annoyed with herself; she really was no good at telling lies.

It is. She snapped angrily. He kept me awake half the night, so we missed the bus. A man who was in the coach office offered me a lift.

And you accepted a lift with a total stranger. Vittorio interposed.

He looked perfectly respectable, and he has daughters of his own. She defended, but even to her own ears she sounded sulky.

I presume he turned out not to be respectable after all.

No and when I wouldn’t - co-operate, he drove me here and dumped us. She shrugged It could have been worse.

Very much worse for both of you. Vittorio exclaimed irritation edging his voice. I apologise for my fellow country man. He went on smoothly, his brow wrinkled with thought. However, Marie Rosita, I hope it will make you more careful in the future. I think it will be as well if I undertake to escort you and the child into Switzerland. If his voice hadn't been so cold his remarks would have been pompous!

Rosemary didn't think it necessary to tell him her previous lift had been Swiss. She rather liked being called Marie Rosita she decided, and it amused her to be scolded for taking lifts from strangers by a stranger who had just insisted on giving her a lift! At midday Vittorio stopped for lunch in a small village and Rosemary attracted more attention than she wanted by having to go to the kitchen to make up some bottles for Ricardo.

I thought mothers’ milk was considered better for babies. Vittorio remarked with cold indifference as she joined him at the table. Rosemary starting to feed Ricardo glared at him angrily.

It may be best. She snapped furiously. But it's not always possible.

It took all her self-control not to retreat into tears. She would have given anything for poor little Ricardo too have been able to feed directly from his mother.

Vittorio had ordered lunch for her, and Rosemary devoured everything that was put before her. She had not had time for breakfast and, annoyingly, it appeared Vittorio had guessed this. In Vittorio's eyes she realised she was a bad mother, she bottle fed her child, accepted lifts from strange men and didn't even eat properly! If she didn't need this lift so badly it would have given her a lot of pleasure to start a fight with him! Sophie would have thrown something by now Rosemary thought tearfully. Vittorio didn't know how lucky he was to have met the placid Lampton sister.

They had been back on the road for just over an hour when the car started to play up and Vittorio halted to look at the engine. After a few minutes he climbed back into the car and Rosemary thought that he was not pleased although he showed very little emotion as he restarted the car.

Do you know what's wrong? She asked diffidently.

No, I'll have to stop at the next village and have someone take a look at it for me.

That will make it very late before we cross the border. Rosemary pointed out in a worried voice. Vittorio gave her a sharp look.

I was intending to stop for the night anyway. He informed her austerely. I've been driving since very early this morning and you are clearly exhausted. It will also be better for the child.

Rosemary wasn't pleased to hear this but there was nothing she could do about it. If only she hadn't overslept, they would have been safely over the border by nightfall. The car continued running very badly and was clearly 1ezoverheating by the time they found a garage in a small hill village.

Vittorio had a word with the mechanic and then drove the car on to stop outside the village Locanda. While Vittorio unloaded the backpack and a suitcase from the boot Rosemary climbed reluctantly out of the car. Vittorio had left the keys in the ignition as Rosemary hesitantly pointed out to him.

Someone’s coming down from the garage to pick it up. He informed her in his cold precise voice.

Inside the Locanda he put the luggage down before seating Rosemary at a small table while he went away to speak to the inn keeper. He had quite beautiful manners Rosemary realised thoughtfully. He was right as well she was exhausted the last few days had been almost too much for her. Vittorio soon returned followed by a young girl carrying a tray of coffee, he sat down opposite Rosemary and let her pour coffee for them both.

We have a problem. He stated sipping at his coffee slowly. They are not in the habit of letting rooms, however in the circumstances they are prepared to put us up for the night.

And the problem. Rosemary asked warily.

They only have one spare room, fortunately it has two beds. Rosemary interrupted him.

Is this where you promise not to try and take advantage of me. She asked thoughtfully and at her words Vittorio's manner became, if possible, even colder.

Are you saying you would not believe me? There was a faint sneer in his cold voice.

Rosemary regarded him over the rim of her coffee cup, she was openly amused now. Vittorio do you remember the Inn where we had lunch. She enquired; he blinked clearly surprised at the apparent change of subject. We were served by a very pretty young woman she kept trying to flirt with you.

I really didn't notice, is there any point to this conversation. Vittorio asked with impatient indifference.

That is the point. Rosemary assured him bluntly. If you didn't even notice a sexy little bit like that, you’re hardly going to be bothering me. It's Ricardo who'll be bothering you I'm afraid.

He wakes in the night. Vittorio asked he had noticed that she had once again called the olive-skinned baby Ricardo and not Richard.

He usually wakes twice a night. Rosemary explained. "Do you think they would let me leave everything ready in the kitchen for his bottle? Then I would only have to boil a kettle and nobody else would have to get

I expect it can be arranged. He returned coolly. If you've finished your coffee. I'll see you upstairs and you can have a rest before we have dinner.

Rosemary had to admit that despite his cold formal manner he was a very thoughtful man. As she curled up to sleep on one bed with Ricardo on the other, she realised she had been very lucky to meet Vittorio. Anybody could have come along he may not look like a Knight in shining armour, but he was behaving like one. A Knight in a rusty car she giggled wearily as she went off to sleep.

Rosemary managed to get two hours sleep before Ricardo woke her demanding attention, having changed him she went down looking for the kitchen to make up his bottle. The kitchen was easily found, and Ricardo proved to be a big hit with the inn keeper’s family. They took it in turns to cuddle and admire him while Rosemary made up his bottle. It was here that Vittorio having looked for her in vain in the bedroom finally tracked her down. Rosemary was sitting in a large rocking chair with Ricardo on her lap; he had just finished his bottle. The inn family was busy cooking talking and quarrelling all around her. Rosemary sat in the middle of it all completely serene and undisturbed.

As soon as Vittorio was noticed in the doorway, he was overwhelmed with compliments on his little wife so young, such beautiful hair and their beautiful bambino. It was a good thing he thought, escorting Marie Rosita to the dining room, that she didn't understand Italian. After dinner with Ricardo fast asleep Rosemary was extremely pleased to go back to bed. She was sleeping so deeply she didn't even notice when Vittorio quietly entered the room undressed and went to bed himself.

She woke however at Ricardo's first cry, leaping out of bed with the baby in her arms and hurrying him out of the room before he could wake Vittorio. She raced down to the kitchen, Ricardo clutched tightly to her, afraid that he would rouse the household. The church clock struck two as she put the kettle on and started to change the baby. It took some time to boil the water and then to cool it down again by which time Ricardo was in a real paddy.

You'd think he was the one with the red hair. She muttered as she coaxed him to take his bottle.

Even after he'd been fed Ricardo refused to settle and Rosemary spent an hour walking up and down the kitchen with him tucked against her shoulder, while she sang nursery rhymes. When he finally went back to sleep it was almost four and Rosemary was asleep on her feet.

Waking slowly the next morning she knew immediately something was wrong, but it took several seconds for her to work out what it was. Then she jumped with shock the baby, who had been sleeping in the crook of her arm, was missing. Rosemary in a total panic, disregarding the fact that she was only dressed in an old cotton kaftan, ran out of the room and clattered down the stairs.

She was met at the bottom by the inn keeper chattering at her in Italian as he led her into the kitchen. Where Ricardo was fast asleep on 'Grandmas' lap as she sat in the rocking chair. Somebody handed Rosemary coffee and then the whole family explained to her, in Italian and sign language, that il bambino had had his bottle and been changed. She was to sit down right now and have some breakfast. She was far to thin; it was no wonder she couldn't feed her bambino herself.

Rosemary ready to collapse with relief let them ply her with food and more coffee. Then she tried to ask about Vittorio, she hoped to goodness he hadn't abandoned them. Il marito she was given to understand had gone to see about the car. Since she wasn't wearing a ring and had only referred to him as Vittorio, she could only wonder what he had been saying to them. Her husband indeed! Rosemary had just finished breakfast when Vittorio arrived looking for her.

What on earth is that you're wearing? He asked a puzzled crown on his face.

It's a kaftan. Rosemary explained with a sigh. I know it's a bit colourful but it's very sensible bed-wear if you’re going to have to get up in the night.

Perhaps you would like to get properly dressed and then join me for some more coffee. Vittorio suggested politely.

Rosemary looked at him warily she suspected something more was wrong with the car than they had thought. She collected Ricardo from Grandma thanking her for looking after him and went quietly upstairs and dressed herself and Ricardo before packing their things away.

Vittorio was already drinking coffee by the time she got back downstairs. He rose to his feet as she approached and having pulled out a chair for her sat her down at the table and poured her some of the coffee. His manners might be cold and formal but Rosemary, not being used to being looked after, decided she rather liked them.

They are not going to be able to fix the car. Vittorio announced calmly.

Why not, what's wrong with it. Rosemary asked unhappily.

It needs some new parts. Vittorio explained. Apparently by the time they've been ordered and fitted I'd have spent more money than the car is worth. Also, it would take several days for the parts to come.

"What on earth am I going to do