Dante's Unexpected Legacy

by Catherine George

  ‘Dante,’ she said awkwardly, ‘could I pay, please?’

  He stared at her in blank astonishment. ‘Cosa?’

  She felt her colour rise. ‘You’ve given up your time to show me round. I can’t expect you to feed me as well.’

  ‘It is my privilege,’ he said, looking down his nose. ‘Also a great pleasure.’

  ‘But I feel I’m imposing.’

  Dante shook his head. ‘You are not.’ He took her hand and stayed close enough to make himself heard as they threaded their way through the crowds in the Piazza. ‘I was forced to rush away from you last time, Rose, with only a brief apology. This time perhaps you will think better of me after we say goodbye tomorrow.’

  Less likely to murder him, certainly. ‘When you’ve been so kind, how could I not?’ she said lightly. She stood looking up in wonder as they reached Perseus and his grisly trophy. ‘Wow! I’ve seen Renaissance art in books but the bronze reality is something else entirely.’

  ‘Cellini was a master,’ he agreed, and moved on to the next, graphic sculpture. ‘So was Giambologna, yes? You like his Rape of the Sabine Women? It is carved from a single block of marble, but it is flawed, as you see.’

  Rose wrinkled her nose. ‘I’m not so keen on that one.’

  ‘Then let us go to the Bargello, which was once a prison, but now houses sculpture. Donatello’s bronze David from a century earlier is there. You will like that, I think. Then you cannot leave Firenze without a visit to the Accademia to gaze in wonder at the greatest statue of all—the marble David by Michelangelo.’

  Rose found that Dante was right when they arrived at the rather forbidding Bargello. On the upper loggia, it needed only one look at Donatello’s jaunty David, nude except for stylish hat and boots, for Rose to fall madly in love. She turned to Dante, her eyes bright with recognition. ‘I’ve seen him before on a television programme.’ She grinned. ‘The handsome lady in charge of his restoration couldn’t help smoothing his bottom!’

  He laughed, his eyes alight as he squeezed her hand. ‘You have not changed so much after all, bella. But now you must have a tramezzini and a drink. We may have to wait for some time in the Accademia.’

  She shook her head. ‘I don’t need anything yet after all that breakfast, Dante. Let’s go now.’

  As Dante had forecast, at the Academy of Fine Arts they had quite a wait among throngs of tourists with cameras and students with backpacks, but when they finally gained entrance to the star attraction Rose stood motionless in pure wonder at the sight of the monumental white figure gazing sternly far above their heads, the sling he would use to kill Goliath at the ready over one shoulder.

  ‘You are impressed?’ murmured Dante in her ear.

  ‘How could I not be?’ With reluctance, she dragged her eyes from the statue. ‘Thank you so much for bringing me here.’

  ‘It is my pleasure as much as yours, Rose. But now, if you have looked at David long enough, we shall go in search of food. Shall we go back to Caffe Rivoire, or would you like to try a different place?’

  ‘The Rivoire again, but just coffee and a snack, please.’

  ‘You shall have whatever your heart desires.’

  CHAPTER TWO

  TO DANTE’S AMUSEMENT Rose took surreptitious glances at her phone from time to time when they were seated among the greenery at a table close to the building, a little away from the press of crowds and pigeons in the Piazza.

  ‘You are expecting a call from your lover?’ he demanded at last.

  ‘Sorry. Just checking for any client problems,’ she lied. No way was she telling him she was checking on her child—who just happened to be his daughter. She thrust the phone in her bag, feeling suddenly cold. Would Dante try to lay claim to Bea if he found out about her? No way was she sharing her child with him. Bea was hers and hers alone.

  ‘You look tense. Forget the work for today,’ commanded Dante. ‘Let us enjoy this unexpected gift of time together. First you must rest for a while in your room and then later we shall go wherever you wish.’

  Rose forced a smile and insisted that she couldn’t waste precious time in resting, but after some of the café’s famous hot chocolate conceded that Dante’s idea was a good one after all.

  ‘Bene,’ he said as they walked back to the hotel. ‘Those beautiful eyes look heavy. We shall meet in the foyer at three, yes?’

  She frowned. ‘Look, Dante, I’m taking up a lot of your time. If you have other things to do—’

  ‘What could be more important than spending time with you, Rose?’

  ‘If you’re sure—’ A yawn overtook her mid-sentence, and Dante laughed.

  ‘You see? A rest is good, yes?’

  Rose nodded, embarrassed to feel glad of the rococo gilded cage instead of trudging up the stairs. ‘If I stayed in Florence for any length of time I’d get very lazy.’

  Dante smiled indulgently. ‘It is good to be lazy sometimes, Rose. I shall see you at three—unless you would like to sleep longer than that?’

  She shook her head. ‘I’ll be ready on the dot.’

  Rose rang her mother for a brief update and learned that Tom had collected Bea from nursery school, and afterwards the three of them had gone for a walk in the park to feed the ducks and buy ice cream.

  ‘Did she cry for me in the night, Mum?’

  ‘No, darling. She told me I wasn’t quite as good at reading stories as Mummy, but otherwise settled down fairly well, and went off happy to school this morning. So do stop worrying. Enjoy yourself.’

  Reassured, Rose had a brief rest on the bed, showered herself awake afterwards and changed the white tee for a navy polo shirt. When she saw Dante waiting for her in the foyer downstairs her unruly heart gave a thump as his eyes lit up at the sight of her. He was too good-looking by half, she thought resentfully as he took her hand.

  ‘You slept, Rose?’

  ‘I had a shower instead.’

  ‘So did I.’

  Since he was wearing a fresh shirt, his black curls were damp and he smelt delicious, Rose had already gathered that.

  ‘Where now?’ she asked as they left the hotel.

  ‘To look at shops, naturalmente!’

  Their first stop was on the Ponte Vecchio to look at the jewellery on display, but with her eyes popping at the prices Rose soon abandoned the jewellers for a shop selling silk ties.

  ‘You want a gift for the boyfriend?’ asked Dante.

  Tempted to lie and say yes, she shook her head. ‘For Tom, Charlotte’s father.’ She pointed to one in cream-dotted bronze silk. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘A good choice. What will you buy your mother?’

  ‘I think I’ll go for one of these silk scarves. Which do you fancy?’

  Dante pointed to one in colours similar to the tie. ‘That one, yes?’

  Rose was very pleased with her purchases, sure she would have paid a lot more without Dante’s help. Later, window-gazing at designer clothes in the Via da Tornabuoni, they spent fantastic pretend fortunes on a wardrobe for her before Dante took her to the Piazza della Repubblica to browse through La Rinascente, a department store where Rose could have spent hours.

  ‘Next time stay longer and linger here as long as you wish. Also explore the Palazzo Pitti and the Tivoli Gardens,’ Dante told her. ‘But now, if you are not too tired, let us walk to Santa Croce to visit the Bar Vivoli Gelateria. The best ice cream in the world is made there.’

  ‘An offer I can’t resist!’ She laughed up at him and saw his eyes light up. ‘What?’

  ‘At last you laugh! For a moment I saw the younger Rose again.’

  The smile faded. ‘A fleeting illusion, Dante.’

  Their progress was slow on the way to the Vivoli due to the lure of the small shops in the Santa Croce area. In one o
f them Rose spotted attractive plaques in papier mâché painted with vegetables and bought a pair for her mother and Tom. ‘They both love gardening, and these will be light enough to stow in my suitcase.’

  He smiled. ‘You have done much shopping for others, but nothing for yourself.’

  ‘I don’t need anything,’ she assured him. She felt guilty enough about spending Fabio’s money as it was. ‘I’ll settle for this ice cream you promised.’

  At the Bar Vivoli Rose rolled her eyes in ecstasy when she tasted her strawberry ice cream. ‘It’s gorgeous—aren’t you having any, Dante?’

  He shook his head, smiling indulgently. ‘I will protect the shopping from your gelato while you enjoy. Is there more you wish to buy? Or we could explore the great church of Santa Croce here.’

  ‘I’d like to very much, but I’d better leave that for another time.’ Not that there would be another time. She looked up at the magnificent facade with regret. ‘Shall we go back now?’

  ‘Whatever you wish, Rose. Where would you like to dine tonight?’

  So he meant them to dine together again. Irritated by her pleasure at the prospect, she told him that at that moment, her palate still rocking with strawberry gelato, it was difficult to think of food. ‘Maybe we could eat in the hotel again?’ At least that way the cost of dinner would appear on her hotel bill and she would feel less obligated.

  Dante frowned. ‘If you really wish to. But there are many restaurants in Firenze. One of my favourites is right here in Santa Croce. We could take a taxi if you are tired. You can decide later when you have rested.’

  She nodded. ‘Fine.’

  ‘I will see you at nine then, Rose.’

  ‘I’ll be ready. Are you taking a rest, too?’

  He nodded. ‘Also I must make a few phone calls, touch base, as you say. Ciao.’

  Rose waited to make sure Dante stayed put in his room and then, praying she wouldn’t get lost, hurried out of the hotel to make her way back to the Piazza della Repubblica to buy some of the delightful things she’d seen earlier in the department store. It might be Fabio’s money, but he would approve of presents for Bea. When she got back she stowed her packages away in her suitcase and, feeling hot and grubby after her rushed, guilty shopping spree, checked her messages, grateful to find a brief but totally reassuring one from her mother. The other, at last, was from Charlotte, so obviously happy Rose felt a searing pang of envy for an instant before stepping into the shower, but afterwards fell into instant sleep so heavy it took the phone to wake her.

  ‘Willow House Bookkeeping,’ she muttered sleepily, and bit her lip at the sound of Dante’s chuckle.

  ‘You are in Firenze now, cara. You obviously slept well!’

  She stifled a yawn. ‘Very well.’ She sat bolt upright after a look at her watch. ‘And much too long!’

  ‘Bene. You obviously needed this. Sleep longer if you wish.’

  ‘No, indeed. Just give me half an hour and I’ll be ready.’

  ‘I shall knock on your door.’

  Rose shot off the bed to wash and get to work on her face. Wishing she had something different to wear, she brushed her hair loose to ring the changes a little with the faithful black dress, and flung the scarf bought for her mother over one shoulder.

  ‘You glow, cara,’ Dante told her when she opened the door to him later.

  ‘Surprising what a little nap can do for a girl.’ She smiled guiltily. ‘I thought Mum wouldn’t mind if I wore her present just once first, but I must be careful not to get anything on it—no more gelato, for a start.’

  ‘Should such a tragedy happen, I will buy you another. So, Rose, do you still wish to dine here, or would you like something more animado, where locals eat?’

  ‘Animado with locals, definitely. And I’m perfectly happy to walk.’ Maybe she could persuade him to let her go halves with the bill.

  ‘Then I shall take you to a trattoria near the bar where you had your gelato. It is basic and traditional, and so popular it is always crowded.’

  ‘Sounds good. Lead on.’

  After her hot, furtive dash earlier on it was dangerously pleasant to stroll with Dante through the balmy warmth of the Florence evening. For one night like this she would pretend he was just a friend she was enjoying an evening with, rather than the man who’d once broken her heart and turned her life upside down. The trattoria was packed, as he had forecast, but a place was found for them in a long red-walled dining room filled with laughing, talking, gesticulating diners sitting elbow to elbow, in total contrast to the formality of the night before, and Rose loved it.

  After discussion with the waiter who brought their menus Dante ordered wine and mineral water and sat back, amused to see Rose so obviously enjoying the proximity with her fellow diners.

  ‘This is more like it,’ she said with satisfaction, sneaking a look at the dishes set down at the next table. ‘Will you help me choose, Dante?’

  He leaned close to translate the names of the dishes, and after much discussion about the various delights on offer Rose settled on a mixed grill of fish with spinach. ‘I don’t cook fish much at home, so this is a treat for me. What are you having?’

  ‘I like your choice. I will have the same.’ Dante nodded in approval as he studied the bottle of wine a waiter offered for his inspection. ‘Grazie. Try the wine, cara, and give me your opinion.’

  ‘Mmm,’ she said with relish. ‘Gorgeous. What is it?’

  ‘A Fortinari Classico,’ he said with pride. ‘I am impressed that they keep this range here.’

  ‘Which means it’s very pricey.’ Rose drank a little more. ‘I can see why.’ She raised embarrassed eyes to his. ‘I’m putting you to so much expense, Dante. Please let—’

  ‘No!’ he said flatly. ‘To see you enjoy your dinner is reward enough.’

  ‘I’m enjoying everything.’ She looked round the packed, noisy dining room with pleasure. ‘I love it here.’ Her eyes sparkled as plates were set in front of them. ‘Grazie,’ she said to the waiter.

  Dante laughed indulgently as she sniffed in rapture. ‘Enjoy, carina.’

  ‘I will! It’s a long time since that gelato.’

  ‘So tell me about this house you live in,’ Dante said later, after Rose had refused a dolce in favour of coffee.

  ‘It’s my own family home. Mum signed it over to me when she moved in with Tom. He wants them to get married,’ she added, ‘but Mum is happy the way things are, afraid that formalising the arrangement might change it. She believes in the saying “If it ain’t broke don’t fix it”.’

  Dante’s eyes darkened. ‘She is wise.’

  Rose looked at him questioningly. ‘Were you heartbroken when your wife left you?’

  He gave a mirthless laugh. ‘Dio, no! My brother, as always, was right. I had a fortunate escape—forgive me, Rose. You cannot want to hear this.’

  How wrong could a man be? ‘Is Elsa still with the new man she left you for?’

  ‘Yes, though new is not the right word.’ Dante’s expressive mouth turned down. ‘Enrico Calvi is old enough to be her father, but so wealthy Elsa is now enjoying a life of idle luxury.’

  ‘She wanted to do that?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ He smiled sardonically. ‘Younger faces—and bodies—were winning the top jobs. She was glad to abandon her career while still known as a supermodel. Allora, I no longer see her face on magazine covers everywhere to remind me of my folly.’

  ‘Is she very beautiful still?’

  He nodded carelessly. ‘I have not seen her since she left, but Elsa was obsessed with her looks and I doubt she has changed much. Calvi has children from a former marriage and does not demand the babies that would ruin his trophy wife’s perfect body. I, fool that I was, wanted children very much.’

  Rose drank some water, sud
denly sorry she’d eaten so much as her stomach lurched at Dante’s heartfelt admission.

  His mouth tightened. ‘She waited until our wedding night to tell me she had no intention of having babies. Ever. But no more talk of Elsa.’ Dante looked at Rose in silence for a while, his blue eyes intent. ‘Now I must take you back. I wish you could stay longer, Rose.’

  ‘Not possible, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Que peccato! In the morning I will drive you to the airport in Pisa—unless you would prefer the train journey?’ He beckoned to a waiter to bring the bill.

  ‘No, indeed. But won’t that take up too much of your time?’

  ‘It is not far out of my way home,’ he assured her, ‘and will give me the pleasure of more time with you before you leave. But this will not be goodbye, Rose. I shall see you when I come to England again next.’

  Her heart lurched. If Dante still wanted babies no way was she letting him anywhere near Bea. He took her arm to steer her past an approaching entwined couple as they walked back, the contact raising her pulse rate even higher.

  Rose paused when they reached the foot of the hotel steps, her eyes raised to the handsome, intent face. ‘This has been a lovely evening, Dante. Not the kind of thing that features much in my life as a rule.’

  ‘Yet Charlotte told me you have someone in your life.’

  ‘He’s a friend from my college days.’

  ‘But surely you will marry one day, Rose?’

  She shrugged. ‘I doubt it.’

  Dante held the door open for her. ‘When you see Charlotte so happy with Fabio, do you not wish for a relationship like theirs?’ His eyes darkened as they made for the lift. ‘I have always envied them their marriage.’

  ‘They’re very lucky.’

  Dante halted when they reached her room. ‘Ascolta, it is early yet, Rose. I would so much like to sit with you on your balcony and talk for a while longer like old friends. I can order tea. You would like that?’

  She looked at him in silence for a moment. ‘All right, Dante.’ She gave him a wry smile. ‘But only because you said the magic word.’