‘But they had a good knees-up anyway,’ complained Ma. ‘The fireworks kept me awake too.’
When Bill appeared, having been into town to get the English newspapers, the whole table turned and looked at him expectantly.
‘Good morning, everyone.’
‘Darling, did you corridor-creep in the middle of the night?’
‘Not that I’m aware of.’
‘And did you make a trip to the folly at about one in the morning?’ asked Luca.
‘There was someone at the folly?’ interrupted Romina.
‘I heard footsteps.’
‘Not you too!’ his mother wailed.
‘Not guilty,’ said Bill, dropping the papers on to the table, and pouring himself a cup of coffee. ‘Looks like I’ll be needing a strong one of these.’
‘Then it can only be the ghost,’ said the professor matter of factly.
‘Surely you, Professor, with your good brain, don’t believe in such things?’
‘A good brain does not only accept the tangible. Think of radio waves, my dear, and ultraviolet light to name but a couple. There is far more to this planet than can be experienced with our five senses. The Marchese was murdered in this very house; who’s to say his energy isn’t still here?’ Dizzy’s mouth dropped open in horror.
Romina gasped. ‘Murdered, here?’ She turned on her son. ‘You said you didn’t find anything out!’
‘I didn’t want to frighten you.’
‘You’re not frightening me, darling. I was the one who sent you two out on a mission, the least I can expect is that you come back and tell me what you have discovered.’
‘Well, as you’re interested, the Marchese Ovidio di Montelimone was having an affair with a local girl called Valentina who fell in love with an Englishman called Thomas Arbuckle. In a fit of jealousy the Marchese murdered her. Her brother took revenge and killed Ovidio, here in this palazzo.’
‘An honour killing,’ said the professor. ‘Very common in these hot-blooded countries.’
‘Oh dear, that is gruesome,’ said Romina. ‘The Sunday Times will love it!’
‘Ah yes, the Sunday Times,’ said Bill with a sigh.
‘Well, that accounts for the strange things going on up here,’ said Ma. ‘You should get the priest to come and exorcise the place.’
‘Rubbish!’ Romina scoffed. ‘Anyhow, the priest won’t come up here as I’ve barely set foot in his church. Religion is not my thing. I was given too much of it as a child and now I can’t be doing with it. So I hardly think he’s going to hurry to my aid.’
Ventura appeared with the telephone. ‘A call for signore Luca,’ she said, handing it to him. Luca got up to take it in private. Claire was the only person who had the number of the palazzo.
‘Hello,’ he said, positioning himself at the other end of the terrace.
‘Are you having a nice time out there?’ she asked.
‘Sure. How are the children?’ Her friendly tone made him suspicious.
‘Fine. No one found you yet?’
‘No.’
‘People are getting desperate. They’ve even started calling me!’
‘Who?’
‘One or two journalists.’
‘Tell them I’m abroad. They’ll give up in the end.’
‘I’m not your secretary. I’ve told your friends to leave messages on your mobile. You’ll get back to them when you’re ready.’
‘You make it sound as though I’m ill.’
‘Well, it is an illness of sorts, isn’t it?’
‘When can the girls come out?’ he asked, changing the subject.
‘Well, that’s why I’m calling, actually. You see, we’ve been invited to Barbados over half-term and I was wondering whether you’d have the girls then. I’ll send them out with Sammy. It’s only for a week.’
‘Of course,’ he replied. ‘I’d love to have them.’
‘I’m so pleased. Friends of John’s have a house in Sandy Lane.’
Luca didn’t rise to the bait. ‘When will you send them out?’
‘Next Friday. You can send them back the following Friday.’
‘That’s fine.’
‘I mean it’s only fair that I take some time off, you know, I’m with them twenty-four seven. You were always travelling or working, so it’s good for you to spend time with them other than alternate weekends. You’ll really get to know them. They’re adorable girls.’
‘You don’t need to tell me that, Claire. I’ve said I’m happy to take them. I’m not blaming you for going away. In fact, I’m delighted to have the opportunity to have them with me.’
‘Oh, good.’ She sounded relieved. ‘I don’t want you thinking I’m not a good mother.’
‘Why would you care what I thought?’
‘Don’t be like that,’ she snapped. ‘I only want a little appreciation for all I’ve done over the years.’
‘You have it, Claire.’
‘So, I’ll send them on Friday. I’ll call you with the details. You will pick them up yourself, won’t you?’
‘Of course.’
‘I don’t want some chauffeur they’ve never met.’
‘You have a great time in Sandy Lane.’
‘Well, I’m sure I will,’ she said brightly. ‘John knows everyone.’
12
‘She won’t eat,’ said Alba in exasperation. ‘She just lies in bed, staring at the ceiling, waiting to die.’ She allowed Panfilo to wrap her in his arms. ‘I don’t know what to do any more.’
‘You’ve done all you can, my love,’ he replied, kissing her hair. ‘She has to do the rest on her own.’
‘But she’ll die.’
‘Then she’ll be where she wants to be, with Francesco.’
‘You can’t say that! She’s thirty-seven years old. She has her whole life ahead of her. I have a responsibility.’
‘She’s Toto’s responsibility.’
‘But I’m the mother she never had. I was there during her growing up. I love her like my own daughter.’
‘Don’t let Rosa hear you say that.’
‘Rosa knows that. There are many ways to love.’
‘Cosima needs more than love to rouse her out of the rut she’s got herself into. She needs will and a change of mind. Perhaps Rosa’s right, all this fussing over her is enabling her to wallow in self-pity. While she’s doing that she doesn’t have to face up to her life.’
‘You mean, she’s frightened to move on?’
‘That’s exactly what I mean.’
Rosa sat on the end of Cosima’s bed. Her cousin was pale, her hair dark against her pillow. She looked frail. ‘I’m sorry we haven’t been getting along,’ said Rosa, finding it difficult to apologise. ‘I didn’t understand.’ When Cosima failed to reply, Rosa stood up and walked over to the little shrine with its burning candle. Francesco’s face grinned out from his photograph. ‘You know, the man who rescued you is called Luca. He’s very handsome. I think you should thank him.’
‘I don’t want to thank him. He did me a disservice.’ Cosima turned her face away.
‘He risked his life for you.’
‘He should have left me alone.’
‘What decent man would watch a woman walk into the sea and not try to save her?’
‘It was none of his business.’
Rosa decided to take a gamble. ‘He said a little boy ran into the church and cried for help.’
‘So?’
‘He said he carried a feather.’
‘A feather?’ Cosima looked at her at last, eyes glittering.
‘A feather.’
‘Who was he?’
‘No one else saw him.’
‘You’re lying!’ Cosima’s cheeks flushed. ‘He’s lying!’
‘Ask him yourself.’
‘I don’t want to see him.’
‘Then you’ll never know.’
‘It’s impossible.’
But Rosa could see she was curious. Her heart b
egan to race at the prospect of being the one to lure her cousin out of her mourning. ‘Fine. Whatever you want, Cosima. But if I were you, I’d want to know.’ She left the room, passing Toto on his way up.
‘How is she?’
Rosa shrugged. ‘I think she’ll be getting up soon.’
Luca was in his usual spot by the pool when his mother appeared in a fluster. ‘Good God!’ she exclaimed dramatically. ‘Someone’s been in the folly again! Your father swears it isn’t him. Didn’t you say you heard footsteps there last night?’
‘I was joking, Mother,’ he replied, recalling the rabbit.
‘Well, it’s no joke. There really was someone there last night. The bed has been slept in again!’
‘Why don’t you change the lock?’
‘Ghosts can walk through walls.’
‘I didn’t think you believed in ghosts.’ He got up to help her to a chair.
‘Maybe I’m wrong about that,’ she hissed, in case anyone should overhear. She never liked to admit she was wrong. ‘Your grandmother used to see them all the time. I’d find her deep in conversation with herself, but she’d insist she was talking to spirits. She’d lay extra places at the table for her dead relations. Nanni thought it was funny; I thought it was sad. My mother thought it the most natural thing in the world. I resented her for her madness. But was I wrong?’
‘You’re not wrong. You’re a sane, intelligent woman. Ventura is a superstitious peasant. As for your guests, they’re enjoying the idea of the ghost, but none of them really believes. There are no such things.’
Even, as the words came out, he knew he was lying. He thought of the little boy in the church and the people who used to appear to him in the night as a child. Buried deep in the hidden recesses of his heart was the knowledge that there was more than this three-dimensional world. ‘We’ll get to the bottom of this, Mother. Trust me, the person lurking around the folly is made of denser stuff than Ventura’s ghosts!’
That afternoon Caradoc invited him into town for a coffee. ‘I’d like another look at that delightful girl,’ he explained, meaning Rosa. ‘Girls like her keep old men’s dreams alive.’
‘You’re not going without me!’ said Ma, catching them in the hall. ‘Or have you forgotten our shared adventure?’
‘Certainly not, dear lady. We are now linked for ever. Luca is coming too.’
‘Dizzy is on the telephone to a long-suffering friend,’ she grumbled. ‘A good moment to escape. I can’t tolerate listening to her gushing.’ She looked at Luca. ‘Ah, yes, the translator. I’m getting a sense of déjà vu.’
‘I hope not,’ he replied. ‘I don’t fancy wading out into the sea again.’
Ma arranged her red hat in the mirror. It was made of straw and decorated with brightly painted wooden fruit. She liked to keep the sun off her pale skin.
‘I’d avoid the harbour then if I were you. If she’s intent on drowning, nothing will stop her.’ She grinned at him through the mirror, her face transformed by her elusive smile. ‘Well, maybe you can. Men don’t come more handsome. Italy is doing you good, Luca.’
‘Ah, Luca,’ said Caradoc. ‘I was handsome once but age is a great leveller. The flowers anew, returning seasons bring! But beauty faded has no second spring. Enjoy it while you have it, young man.’ They went out into the dazzling sunshine.
They borrowed Romina’s car again, but this time Ma squeezed into the back where she could spread herself across the entire seat. Inside, it smelled of hot leather. Caradoc wound down the window to let in the breeze, lifting his nose like a dog. As the car hummed down the hill Luca felt his spirits rise in the company of these two most unlikely friends. How different this life was, and how different he was beginning to feel.
They arrived at the trattoria and chose a table on the terrace overlooking the harbour. Boats came and went, children played on the quay, a bony dog trotted along the pavement until he spotted a black cat lurking in the shadows and made chase. A pair of old men in caps sat arguing about the game of scopa they had played the night before.
Ma took a while to choose a chair in the shade and Caradoc nearly tripped over his own feet when Rosa emerged in her scarlet dress. She greeted them warmly and waited for them all to sit down. Luca hoped she wouldn’t mention his ‘heroism’ again. It was an episode he would rather forget.
Rosa addressed the professor. ‘So, coffee for you, signore?’ Her voice was sweet as chocolate.
Caradoc beamed. ‘You remember?’
‘Of course. How could I forget?’
‘Black coffee,’ he said. ‘And something sweet. You choose, I’m sure you will find me something special.’
‘Shame on you, Professor,’ said Ma disapprovingly. ‘You’re a silly old man.’
‘The day I stop being a silly old man, I will simply be an old man, and a sad old man at that.’
Ma snorted. ‘I’ll have a nice cup of Earl Grey tea, with a little honey and milk on the side.’ She expected the girl to shrug in that infuriating Italian way and declare that they didn’t stock such a thing, but she nodded agreeably and turned to Luca.
‘Coffee with milk on the side, piping hot?’ she asked with a flirtatious smile.
‘Thank you.’
Rosa’s eyes lingered a little longer than was proper for a married woman. ‘Can I get you anything sweet?’
‘Yes,’ interjected Ma stridently. ‘We’ll have whatever the professor has.’ Rosa disappeared inside and Luca breathed a sigh of relief that she hadn’t mentioned her cousin.
‘Pretty girl!’ said Caradoc with a sigh. ‘If I were your age, Luca, I’d bed a succulent Italian girl like Rosa. They’re like ripe fruit, ready to be picked and tasted.’
‘Good God, Professor!’ snapped Ma. ‘What’s got into you?’
‘It must be the heat.’
‘It’s Incantellaria,’ Caradoc corrected. ‘I feel twenty years younger.’
‘Well, it hasn’t had that effect on me,’ said Ma. ‘I’ve never rated sex that much. I can’t bear a man clambering all over me, heavy breathing and fumbling about. There are so many better things to do with one’s time.’
The professor looked crestfallen. ‘How about you, Luca?’
‘I agree with you, Professor. The heat does turn one’s thoughts to girls.’
‘But divorce has the effect of a cold shower, I should imagine,’ said Ma. She patted his hand. ‘You’ll have better luck next time. You’re young and foolish enough to give marriage another go. I’d find a nice Italian girl to look after you.’
‘Like Rosa,’ said Caradoc.
‘Not like Rosa,’ said Ma sternly. ‘If I were her husband I wouldn’t trust her as far as I could throw her. She’s got a mischievous glint in her eye that’s nothing but trouble. Mark my words, she’s a handful.’
Rosa returned with their drinks and three slices of lemon cake. ‘My grandmother’s recipe,’ she said. ‘It melts in your mouth.’
‘Like a succulent fruit,’ said Caradoc, gazing up in adoration. Luca saw from the intent look on her face that she was about to mention Cosima.
‘My parents would like to thank you properly for saving Cosima.’
‘There’s no need.’
Her face fell with disappointment.
‘You must all be going through a difficult time,’ he added. ‘I would hate to impose.’
‘Impose? If you hadn’t been so brave she would have drowned. It’s the very least we can do. Besides, Cosima would like to thank you herself.’
‘You’d better go,’ said Ma. ‘If only to ensure the poor girl doesn’t try to drown herself again.’
‘Now’s no time for modesty,’ cajoled Caradoc. ‘If you play the hero you should accept gratitude with grace.’
‘Please,’ Rosa begged. ‘You’re the first ray of light she has had in such a long time. She just wants to say thank you. We all do.’
‘Then I would be delighted,’ Luca conceded, despite his apprehension.
‘Good. Come to
night at seven and I will escort you myself. It is not easy to find the house and I’m no good at giving directions. You can drive me home. Everyone will be so happy!’ she gushed, clapping her hands. No one would be happier than Rosa.
‘Now that smile is worth a million gold pieces,’ said Caradoc, watching her bottom as she went to another table to take orders. ‘Do you want me to come with you?’
‘No, I’ll go alone,’ said Luca. ‘I’m a big boy.’
That evening Cosima waited with her family on the terrace beneath the vine. Curiosity had got the better of her as Rosa had predicted. Beata sat with Toto and Alba while Panfilo chased the children around the olive trees with his dog, provoking squeals of delight. The children were oblivious of the tension in the air as the adults waited for Rosa and Luca to appear.
Finally, the rumble of a car signalled their arrival. Alba went around the house to greet them, while Cosima remained very still, not knowing how to handle the situation. She resented him so for having thwarted her plans, and yet, there was a spark of hope in her heart on account of the boy with the feather.
Alba watched Rosa descend the hill with Luca. He was very tall and broad in his jeans and open-necked blue shirt. The sun had tanned his skin brown and his hair was thick and dark. His eyes were as bright as cornflowers. She greeted him warmly, disguising the trepidation she felt at his connection with the palazzo.
‘Welcome.’ She extended her hand. Luca recognised her as the woman holding the candle at the Festa di Santa Benedetta. ‘You’re so good to come. I’m Alba, Rosa’s mother. Cosima is my niece.’
‘I only did what anyone else would have done,’ he replied humbly.
‘Come. Everyone is waiting on the terrace. Rosa will bring you a prosecco.’
Rosa went into the house, her walk more of a dance, confident that Luca was watching her. She had put her hair up to show the pretty curve of her neck and applied more make-up, the red of her lips matching the red of her nails. If only she had some real diamonds to hang from her ear lobes.
The house was pretty – a sandy stone farmhouse with a grey tiled roof. The windows were framed by blue-grey shutters and protected with elaborate iron bars from which hung small pots of red geraniums. Surrounded by inky green cypress trees and large urns of lilies, it possessed a peaceful charm. Luca followed Alba around the corner, his heart accelerating as he, too, wondered how to deal with the situation. Make it brief and get out as fast as possible without causing offence, he thought.
The Italian Matchmaker Page 12
