‘It still sounds like an inside job to me.’
‘Well, it isn’t. I know the people I live with. Anyway, they have far too much good taste to own a scarf like that one.’
‘I’ll come and have a look if you like, but I suspect there’s not a great deal I can do. We don’t have the resources to guard the door full-time.’
‘So, I have to leave this to my son?’
‘From what I have heard, he is more than capable.’
‘I want you to come up all the same. Your presence will be very reassuring.’ There was nothing remotely reassuring about Inspector Amato.
Luca spent the afternoon playing hide-and-seek with his daughters before taking them and Sammy to Fiorelli’s for tea. Cosima was sitting at one of the round tables with Alba, deep in discussion. When she saw him, she smiled and waved.
‘What will it be today?’ she asked the children. ‘Ice-cream again?’ The girls nodded eagerly.
‘And one for Greedy,’ said Juno, wiggling her caterpillar into Cosima’s face.
Luca watched Alba. Was it possible that she was the intruder? Sneaking into the folly to feel close to her dead mother? Like Rosa, Alba was eye-catching with her dark hair and light grey eyes, and her wide, infectious smile. But, unlike her daughter, she had a ripeness that gave her beauty depth. He took a seat and Cosima asked Fiero to make the coffee while she sat and chatted. He lit a cigarette and lowered his voice to make sure they couldn’t be overheard.
‘Can I see you tonight?’
‘I’d like that.’
‘It’s impossible to look at you sitting there and not touch you.’
‘I bet you say that to all the girls,’ she teased.
‘I used to say it to all the girls, but I never meant it. Now I mean it from the very bottom of my heart.’
She laughed incredulously. ‘You’re half Italian.’
‘The other half is solid, reliable, trustworthy British.’
‘Where shall we go?’
‘Well, as you insist on keeping our friendship quiet, I suggest I pick you up at seven, we drive down the coast, find a little restaurant for dinner, then a pretty beach to walk along. Does that appeal to you?’
‘It sounds lovely.’
‘You won’t have trouble getting away?’
She shook her head. ‘They’re used to me disappearing for hours. I like being on my own. They know that.’
Fiero brought his coffee. Luca blew smoke rings and looked over to where the girls were playing with the local children, under Sammy’s watchful eye. They were laughing and joining in as if they were old friends. After a while Juno began to jump off the bollard with Greedy, throwing him into the air and catching him as she jumped.
‘Your children are enjoying themselves here,’ said Alba. ‘How long are they staying?’
‘Until Friday,’ Luca replied.
‘By the end of the week they will have made friends with all the children in Incantellaria,’ said Cosima. ‘They won’t want to leave.’
‘Where is their mother?’ Alba asked.
‘Taking a holiday with her boyfriend.’
‘Is he nice?’
‘Nice enough.’ Luca tried not to sound bitter.
‘Do you think they’ll marry?’
‘I hope so. She deserves to be happy.’
‘That’s very gracious of you.’
‘There’s no point harbouring grudges.’ He shrugged. ‘We have our daughters to think about. Their happiness is worth more than ours.’
‘I have a stepmother,’ said Alba. ‘I hated her while I was growing up. She wasn’t my sort. Far too strident and hearty. But in the end I accepted her. She wasn’t so bad. She gave me the best advice anyone had ever given me. On the strength of it I returned here. I’ve never regretted it.’
Luca remembered Fitzroy and his curiosity was aroused. ‘Was there anything to keep you in England?’ he asked carefully.
‘Oh, yes. I was on the brink of marrying a darling man. He was adorable, but sadly not enough for me.’ She took Cosima’s hand. ‘You see, I was in love with a little Italian girl who didn’t have a mother. We had grown very close. When I left her I missed her so much she burned a hole in my heart. A hole that no one else could fill because it was her shape alone.’ Cosima laughed at the familiar tale. Luca was beginning to see why Rosa was so jealous of her cousin. ‘So, I left him for you, Cosima. And I’ve never looked back.’
The ice-creams arrived and the girls ran back to eat them. Rosa appeared with Alessandro, who had been to the doctor with a stomach complaint. His eyes lit up when he saw the girls and his stomach-ache miraculously disappeared at the prospect of a bowl of ice-cream. Rosa was not pleased to see Cosima sitting at the table with Luca as if she were part of his family, but she recovered a little when Luca gave her a smile and asked after her son.
‘Children,’ she shrugged. ‘There’s always something.’
Cosima got up. ‘I’d better be going. Enjoy your ice-creams,’ she said to the children. She didn’t look at Luca for fear of provoking Rosa. He watched her walk off, admiring the gentle swing of her hips.
Francesco appeared from nowhere, skipping off after her, a bounce in his step that he hadn’t had before. They were so close they were almost touching, separated only by a fine wall of vibration, but she was unaware that the child she mourned was right beside her. As if he read his thoughts, Francesco turned, grinned at Luca, then waved.
Rosa frowned as Luca laughed. ‘What are you laughing at?’
‘Nothing. Just a thought that popped into my head.’
‘Aren’t you going to share it?’ She felt better now that her cousin had gone.
‘I don’t think you’d find it as funny as I do.’
‘Try me?’
‘Another time,’ he said, looking at his watch. ‘We’d better get going. It’ll soon be time for the girls’ bath.’
‘That’s okay,’ said Sammy. ‘It’s holiday. They can stay up a little later if you like.’
‘No. I need to get back too,’ he said, not noticing Rosa’s disappointment. All he could think about was Cosima and Francesco.
Cosima went into the church. She needed time alone to think, somewhere to clear her head of the conflicting thoughts that filled it. The guilt didn’t go away, but now she had something else to feel guilty about: her growing feelings for Luca.
She walked down the aisle, crossed herself in front of the altar, and took a seat. There were a few people walking around, looking at the glittering icons and frescoes, enjoying the serenity of the place. Cosima knelt and prayed for her son. She questioned Luca’s credibility in seeing Francesco. Not that she thought he was making it up: she trusted him to be honest. But she worried that he might have imagined him, or mistaken someone else’s child for hers. In spite of the evidence of the feather and the butterfly, and her own desire to believe, she feared some terrible disappointment would set her back to where she was before, alone and in despair.
She liked Luca. Love wasn’t a word she felt comfortable using. Love was a word for Francesco. If she admitted she was falling in love with Luca, she felt she would somehow be subtracting love from her son. Luca had transformed her life in such a short time. One moment she was in the sea, wanting to end it all; the next she was wearing pretty dresses and blushing under his sympathetic gaze. It made her feel uneasy, as if she were a schoolgirl again, playing truant. If she didn’t continue to mourn Francesco she was being a bad mother; she had taken her eye off him in life, and look what had happened. If she took her eye off him in death, then what? Did she deserve to be happy after her negligence? Would her guilt allow her to be happy?
These arguments jostled about in her head. If Francesco was dead, wasting her life in mourning wasn’t going to bring him back. If he was in spirit, as Luca maintained, surely he would want her to be happy. He clearly didn’t want her to die or he wouldn’t have sought out Luca and begged him to rescue her. Then the voice of guilt argued that she should dress
herself in black and return to her state of mourning, where she felt comfortable. Where she belonged.
When she opened her eyes it took a moment for them to adjust. She put her hand on the floor to push herself up and saw a feather on the floor by the cushion. Like the one she had found on the candle table, it was long and white. Surely, this was not a coincidence.
She looked around. There were no birds in the church and if someone had put it there while she prayed she would have noticed. It certainly hadn’t been there when she sat down.
She walked unsteadily out of the church, the feather between her finger and thumb. She felt light-headed with joy. If this was a message from Francesco, then he must mean it was okay to see Luca. The feather was a blessing.
She sat on one of the benches in the square and watched the children playing. How she yearned to hold her son and feel his body against hers. How she longed to kiss his soft face and smell the familiar scent of his skin. She felt her eyes well with tears, then remembered Luca reassuring her that she was never alone. She stopped crying and twirled the feather around and around. If Luca was right, Francesco was beside her now, maybe sitting on this very bench. If you’re here, my love, show yourself to me so that I can know for sure.
When Rosa and Alessandro returned home, Eugenio was waiting for them on the terrace.
‘You’re home early,’ said Rosa, as Alessandro ran off to join his siblings in the garden.
‘I had a very interesting visit today from the woman who owns the palazzo.’
‘What did she want?’
‘She says someone’s been sleeping in the folly.’
‘For goodness sake, she’s mad.’
‘She wants me to go and check it out.’
‘What does she expect you to find?’
‘A woman.’
‘Why a woman?’
‘Because they found a woman’s scarf in there.’
‘Why would anyone want to go and sleep in there? It’s spooky.’
‘I think she just wants reassurance.’
‘Well, she’s found the right man, then,’ she said proudly.
‘There’s not a great deal I can do. She says her son wants to catch whoever it is, so she’s not going to change the lock.’
‘That’s the first thing I’d do.’
Eugenio shot her a look. ‘That place is a mystery if you ask me.’
‘Mamma thinks it’s haunted by the Marchese.’
‘Perhaps,’ Eugenio conceded. ‘I’m going to go and take a look. Do you want to come?’
‘No. I’m racked with curiosity, but I don’t think it looks very professional to be accompanied by your wife. Just come back and tell me exactly what you find.’
19
Luca picked up Cosima at the trattoria as arranged. She had changed into a black dress embroidered with small red flowers, and her hair was tied with a red ribbon. As he came closer he could smell the scent of lemons and felt the familiar ache of desire. He put his hand around her waist and pressed his lips to her neck.
She pulled away, looking around furtively. ‘Not here,’ she hissed. ‘Someone might see.’
‘Why should we hide? I want to shout my love from the rooftops!’
‘Please don’t.’ She gave an embarrassed laugh. ‘Come on, let’s get out of here.’
They drove down the coast, along the winding road that hugged the hills. The sun began to slip down the sky, sprinkling the sea with glitter. With the windows open, the warm wind on their faces, they both felt exhilarated, as if they were young lovers stealing forbidden time alone together.
Cosima directed him up a narrow road to a little restaurant she knew hidden among the trees. They sat on the balcony, under a trellis of honeysuckle and lemons. Large urns were placed around the edge of the balcony full of pink bougainvillea and white geraniums, and the smell of rosemary and olive oil wafted through the kitchen window. A couple of black dogs slept on the red tiles in the fading sunlight and birds came to peck at breadcrumbs on the ground. A group of young children with grubby faces and bare feet played on the hillside with a can of Fanta and some sticks.
Luca took Cosima’s hand across the table and stroked her skin with his thumb. She turned and looked out over the sea. ‘It’s beautiful here,’ she said softly, trying not to fuel her doubts with thoughts of her son.
‘You’re beautiful,’ he replied. ‘You get more beautiful the better I know you.’
She smiled. ‘If I really am beautiful to you, I must cherish you. It’s not every day a man tells me I’m beautiful and means it.’
‘Oh, I mean it,’ he said, looking deep into her eyes. ‘I’ve never meant anything so much in all my life.’
After a while a large, dark-skinned woman appeared with the menu. She was as ripe as an autumn peach with pink cheeks and big bulging eyes. Her grey hair was pulled back into a loose bun, and long beaded earrings dangled from her ears.
‘Ah, this is the best view for young lovers like you,’ she said with a chuckle, handing them each a menu. ‘Prosecco?’
‘Two Bellinis,’ said Luca. ‘To celebrate our first evening together,’ he added to Cosima in English.
The woman struck a match and lit the little hurricane lamp in the centre of the table. ‘There, that’s better,’ she said, standing back to admire it. ‘Now you can enjoy a candle-lit dinner. Take your time to look at the menu. I recommend the fish. You can come around the back and choose from the tank.’
‘This is a splendid place,’ he said.
‘It’s famous. You don’t think I’d bring you anywhere but the best?’
‘So, you’re not worried you’re going to bump into someone you know?’
‘I’m not worried, I just don’t want to antagonise anyone.’
‘Rosa.’
She lowered her eyes. ‘She’s not easy.’
‘The way Alba talks about you, I’m not surprised.’
‘Alba’s like a mother to me.’
‘I can’t imagine Rosa’s too happy about that.’
‘Of course not. But she’s not happy in herself.’
‘Her marriage?’
Cosima sighed. ‘She thinks Eugenio is not good enough for her. She wishes she were like her grandmother with lovers in every corner of Italy.’
‘Valentina?’
‘She’s obsessed with her. It wouldn’t surprise me if she were found murdered on the road to Naples in a car with some millionaire, draped in diamonds and furs. I don’t think she’s faithful to Eugenio for one minute. All she thinks about is material things she doesn’t possess.’
‘Unhappiness comes from wanting what one can’t have.’ He looked at her intently. ‘I’d be unhappy if I couldn’t have you.’ He knitted his fingers through hers across the table. ‘I want to make love to you.’ She blushed and turned away, her gaze lost somewhere out to sea. ‘I know. I won’t push you, my darling. I just want you to know I desire you. We’ve got all the time in the world.’
‘You’d wait that long?’
He barely recognised himself. ‘I’d wait for you for ever.’
Eugenio had picked up his old Fiat from Gianni’s. Rosa had tried to persuade him to buy a new car, but they didn’t have the money to indulge in needless extravagances. She had stomped off in a huff, accusing him of not treating her well. ‘You once called me Princess,’ she had complained. ‘Shame you can’t treat me like one.’ So he had bought her a pretty crystal necklace instead. It wasn’t a car, but she had been pleased. Rosa was like a magpie: if it shone it gave her pleasure.
He was curious to see what the palazzo looked like now. During the lengthy building work the entire place had been hidden behind scaffolding and no one had been allowed into the grounds. The odd builder had come into the trattoria for coffee and given away a few details, but not enough to satisfy the curiosity of the locals. Now Eugenio motored up the sweeping drive, impressed at the beauty of the trees that lined the elegant curve of the approach. The gardens were manicured, large topiary balls
clipped into perfect spheres, the lawn mowed, the borders weeded. The palazzo itself took his breath away. It was magnificent, with imposing towers and a grand entrance. The old stone blended with the new and the pink roof-tiles shone like copper beneath the setting sun.
He rang the bell. Romina opened the door and greeted him warmly. At her feet was a little pink pig in a nappy. ‘Don’t be alarmed,’ she said coolly. ‘This is Porci. A gift from my brother. So typical of Nanni to give me a pig!’
‘Unusual to say the least,’ said Eugenio. He couldn’t wait to get home and tell Rosa about the sparkling collar around the animal’s neck.
‘Come through. We’ll go straight to the folly.’
Eugenio followed her through the courtyard, marvelling at the splendour. How was he going to begin to describe it to his wife? He didn’t have the vocabulary. These people must be as rich as kings, he thought. Outside, the rest of the house party sat playing cards or chatting, drinking glasses of white wine. A maid hovered, waiting to take orders. They must have turned the palazzo into a hotel, for no one would entertain so lavishly.
Romina didn’t bother to introduce him to her guests. As they walked down the steps to the garden, the professor raised his eyes over his cards. ‘I see young Luca is now out of a job.’
‘The police will do nothing,’ said Nanni.
‘They should take fingerprints at least,’ added Ma.
‘Nothing has been stolen, has it?’ said Dennis. ‘No one hurt or threatened. For all they know, it could be one of us.’
‘More likely one of them.’ Ma nodded towards Ventura who was bustling about with a couple of young maids. ‘In novels it’s always disgruntled staff.’
‘Or the hostess herself,’ said Dennis with a laugh.
‘My sister might be melodramatic,’ said Nanni. ‘But she’s far too busy looking after all of us to bother creating a mystery for her own amusement.’
Down at the folly Romina unlocked the door and showed Eugenio inside. There was no evidence to suggest anyone had been lying on the bed. ‘She doesn’t come every night,’ Romina explained.
The Italian Matchmaker Page 18
