English Rose for the Sicilian Doc

by Annie Claydon

  * * *

  Matteo’s plane touched down at London Heathrow just after noon. Although it was June and therefore summer, the sky was a mass of dark grey cloud.

  This was one of the things he liked about London. You never really knew what was going to happen next. In Sicily, you could lie in bed in the morning, your eyes firmly closed, and know that it was probably sunny outside. There was a certain advantage to that, particularly since Matteo happened to like the sun, but there was also a predictability about it all. A June day in London could bring anything from freezing winds and hailstones to blue skies and sunshine.

  That fitted his purpose entirely. Not knowing what to expect meant that he had to be ready for anything. And he had a week for that anything to happen. He could make his way straight over to his sister’s house, settle in and call some old friends to see whether they were free. Or he could address the real object of his visit.

  He took his phone from his pocket, switching it out of flight mode and waiting impatiently while it found a signal. Then he dialled Rose’s number, wondering whether she would answer.

  She didn’t. He hadn’t really expected that it would be that easy. He sighed, put his phone back into his pocket and looked for the signs that pointed the way to the Underground.

  His phone buzzed and he hooked it back out of his pocket as he walked. Then stopped short, apologising to the woman behind him who almost tripped over his suitcase and staring at the text.

  Did you call me?

  The trouble with a text was that it didn’t transmit any inflection to the words. They could be accusatory, or happy, or... He decided that going through all the possible options wasn’t going to get him anywhere, and called Rose’s number again.

  ‘You did call me, then.’ There wasn’t a great deal to be gleaned from her tone either. If anything, it could be called pleasant, the kind of tone you adopted to use on the phone with someone you hardly knew.

  ‘Yes, I did. How are you placed for coffee? This afternoon sometime?’ Matteo held the phone away from his ear slightly, ready for the possibility that Rose might either scream at him or throw the phone out of the window.

  ‘Coffee...?’

  She said the word as if she’d never heard of coffee, but that was better than an outright no. The thought occurred to Matteo that maybe her composure was because she’d got over him and moved on. If she had then maybe that would be the answer he was looking for. There would be no hope and he could return home a free man.

  He decided to press on, in the hope that she wouldn’t stop him. ‘I’ve got a few things to do first, but I’m free any time after four. How about Borough Market? We can get coffee there and then take a walk maybe. If it’s not raining.’

  There was a long pause. ‘Borough Market...? Raining...?’

  ‘Yes, down by London Bridge...’

  ‘I know where Borough Market is. And it’s a bit of a long way for me to come for coffee.’

  He’d come a lot further. But something in her tone suggested that she wasn’t talking about a couple of extra stops on the Tube. ‘Where are you?’

  ‘I’m at work, on site. In Sicily. Where are you?’

  ‘Heathrow Airport.’

  At another time they would have laughed about it but now the seconds ticked by, with nothing but the bustle of the airport and the noise of the PA system to focus his attention on.

  He should hang up now, make some joke about having missed her but that he’d catch up with her another time. His sister was expecting him and would, no doubt, give him a piece of her mind if he rang at the last minute to say he wasn’t turning up.

  But Rose was in Sicily.

  ‘This evening, then. Coffee. At the piazza, down by the beach. The one we used to go to.’

  There was a long pause. Matteo could hear his own heart beating, almost drowning out the noise around him.

  ‘Whereabouts in the piazza?’

  ‘There’s a café on the north side. Red-and-white-striped awning.’

  ‘You’re sure?’

  ‘Yes. If I can’t get a flight, I’ll call you. About eight?’

  ‘No, I mean you’re sure it’s red-and-white stripes?’

  ‘Yes. Positive.’ The words caught in Matteo’s throat, as it finally dawned on him that Rose was intending to be there.

  ‘I’ll see you at eight, then.’

  * * *

  Rose put her phone down onto her desk. She was shaking. Matteo had sounded so laid back on the phone, calling and asking her out for coffee, the way he always had. She’d known that there was a chance he’d find out that she was back in Sicily, and had decided that she would politely but firmly refuse to see him.

  As soon as she’d heard his voice, the polite, firm refusal had become even more difficult than she’d imagined, and she’d made the mistake of playing for time while she’d worked up the courage to do it.

  But she’d never got that chance. Matteo wanting to see her for coffee was one thing. Being prepared to fly twelve hundred miles then turn around and fly all the way back again just for coffee was quite another.

  Knowing that was Matteo all over made her smile. The way he’d asked as if it was nothing, but behind his easygoing manner there was a man who knew what he wanted. And whatever it was that he wanted, she’d be there to hear it.

  She tried to lose herself in her work, but every ten minutes Rose had to stop and look at her watch. When, finally, it was six o’clock she packed up her things and got into her car, driving towards Palermo.

  The last six hours had been time enough to present every scenario to her in an agony of exquisite detail. He wanted to say a final goodbye, which would be difficult but she could handle it. He wanted to take her home, make love every night for a week and then say goodbye. That would be unthinkable.

  She didn’t dare consider the one that didn’t include goodbye. They already knew that was impossible. Maybe Matteo had come up with another option that didn’t involve difficult, unthinkable or impossible, but for the life of her Rose couldn’t think what it might be.

  But whatever he did want to say, she didn’t want to hear it in rumpled shorts and a blouse that had been sticking to her back all day in the heat. She’d only packed for a week, so she had the choice of two dresses. Red and green flowers wouldn’t do, so it had to be the blue one.

  She showered and changed quickly, stopping off in the kitchen on her way out to tell Elena that she’d only be a couple of hours. Then she drove into the city centre, parking in one of the side streets that led to the piazza.

  It was still only a quarter to eight, but he was there, sitting at one of the tables outside on the pavement, reading an English paper. Rose stopped stock still, staring at him. He looked far too perfect to be anything other than a dream in his pale linen suit and dark shirt. Black and white suited Matteo. The breeze suited him, ruffling its fingers through his hair, the evening sun kissing his skin like a lover.

  She almost turned around and walked away. This one, last look at him was so exquisite that anything else would be an anti-climax. But it was too late, because he’d seen her now.

  ‘You stayed in England long enough to buy a paper, then.’ She sat down opposite him.

  ‘Yeah. That was about all I did. I got a standby flight straight back.’ A flick of his fingers caught the waiter’s attention and he signalled for two coffees. ‘Thanks for coming.’

  Rose nodded. Pleasantries suddenly seemed completely inadequate. Coffee was inadequate. The only thing that mattered was Matteo’s dark eyes, and the thought that she’d walked straight into this. Whatever he was about to say, she’d brought this on herself.

  * * *

  When they’d been lovers, not seeing Rose for two days had been an exercise in craving, enjoying missing her because he knew that when he did touch her i
t would feel so incredibly good. Not having seen her for almost two months was different. A hard, relentless misery, which seemed to taint their meeting now. At any moment now she could get up and go, and the torture would start again.

  ‘You’re working back at the site?’ It was an obvious question with an obvious answer, but it would prolong this time together a little before he gave her a reason to get up and go.

  ‘Yes. I was supposed to come back a month ago, but...’ Her lip quivered slightly. ‘I was very busy at home. I’ve been working with them via video calls, but for some things you just have to be there. I’m back for a week.’

  ‘William’s with you?’ Perhaps he shouldn’t ask, but he’d missed William too.

  ‘No, he’s staying with my parents. I’m working long hours, and I thought it would be too disruptive...’ She tailed off, and Matteo supplied the awkward truth.

  ‘You don’t want him to come back here, start making friends again and then have to go back to England.’

  ‘Yes. He was very happy here and he’s just settled back home again. But if you’d like to call in the next time you’re in England, he’d be very pleased to see you.’

  ‘Thank you. I’d love to see him.’

  They were both speaking in code, but Matteo knew exactly what she meant. She’d done what any mother would do, and had decided what would be best for her child, but she wasn’t going to bar Matteo from seeing him. That small sliver of hope pierced his heart, giving him courage to venture a little further.

  He took a breath, the words on the tip of his tongue, and then the waiter brought the coffee. She looked up at the man, smiling and thanking him in Italian. Rose was so beautiful when she smiled, and even if the smile wasn’t for him, Matteo hung on to the moment greedily.

  But it seemed that Rose wanted to waste no time in getting to the point. ‘This is what you flew all the way back here for?’ She indicated his cup.

  ‘English coffee’s pretty awful.’ He tried to make a joke of it and failed. ‘But it’s a long way to come, even so.’

  ‘Why did you, then?’ Her gaze searched his face, and it occurred to Matteo that she was just as terrified as he was.

  ‘Rose, I have a plan.’

  Her chest rose and fell quickly, and she took a sip of her coffee. ‘A plan? Are you sure you’re all right?’

  He reached out, taking her hand in his, squeezing it gently. ‘I don’t mean to hurt you, Rose. If you don’t want me, just say so, and I’ll go.’

  She shook her head. ‘There was never a time that I didn’t want you, Matteo.’

  Spending a large proportion of his day and paying over the odds for a ticket to get himself back where he had started suddenly didn’t seem so crazy. ‘I want you to know that whatever you want is important to me. Because what I want, more than anything else, is for you and William to be happy.’

  Warmth bloomed suddenly in her face. ‘Please...say it, Matteo. What’s the plan?’

  ‘I reckon that any plan has to start with where you want to finish up. Then you decide how you’re going to make that happen. I want to finish up with you. For us to be together.’

  ‘But...’ She shook her head. ‘We tried that. There are so many reasons...’

  He laid his finger across her lips. ‘No, we didn’t try it. We made a plan that was based on everything we knew about the past. My plan is all about the future, and what it should be. What I want more than anything.’

  She took a sudden, involuntary gasp of air, as if someone had just inserted a knife between her ribs. ‘And you’re not afraid?’

  The realisation that she was thinking about saying yes made his heart beat even faster than it was already. ‘Actually, I’m terrified. But that’s okay, because I love you and I really do believe we can make this work. We can take things slowly...but I’ll be there whenever you’re ready.’

  She reached out her hand, brushing the side of his jaw with her fingers. ‘I’m ready now. And if ever you’re afraid, I’ll be there for you.’

  That was an offer good enough to summon up every demon in his subconscious and invite it to do its worst with him. ‘I’m afraid now.’

  She took both his hands in hers. ‘Don’t be. I love you too, Matteo.’

  The temptation to take her in his arms, right now, was almost too much. Matteo reminded himself that he’d just promised her he’d go slowly.

  He smiled at her, wondering if a smile would ever be enough to show her how much he loved her. ‘I’m feeling better already.’

  ‘Shame. I was hoping for a rather more extended period of nursing.’ She laughed, and then was suddenly solemn, as if she’d remembered something. ‘I...won’t mess up this time, Matteo.’

  ‘That’s a shame too. I was hoping we’d both mess up big time...argue about it and then make up.’ He raised her fingers to his lips and kissed them.

  ‘Yes.’ She turned her bright gaze onto his face. ‘You want to make up now?’

  Oh, yes. Matteo shoved a note from his pocket under his saucer, and Rose stood up. Suddenly he couldn’t wait. Pulling her into his arms, he kissed her, ignoring the murmurs of approval from passers-by and the small round of applause that had started up somewhere inside the café. She felt so good, her scent, her lips. Her body pressed tight against his.

  ‘I promise you this, Rose. Whatever happens, we won’t let William be hurt. I’ll love him enough to do whatever it takes...’

  ‘He needs a father, Matteo. If you find you want to apply for the position, I can’t think of a better one than you.’ She took that immense leap of trust, without even needing to think about it, and Matteo felt himself choke with emotion.

  ‘I love you, Rose.’

  ‘I love you too, Matteo.’

  There was only one thing to do. Hoisting her up into his arms, he carried her across the piazza. The one thing that had seemed an impossible dream, something that had to be reached for but with no expectation of success, had suddenly become a reality.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  THEY’D MADE LOVE, with all the delicious urgency of sudden happiness, after two long months of separation. Then, just in case she’d missed any of the promises that had been torn from his lips, Matteo did it all over again. Exquisitely slowly this time, knowing that Rose meant everything she said. He was her best friend. The lover who filled her heart with joy. The one. Every time she looked into his eyes, another little part of him healed, and he knew that this was no risk. It was meant to be, and he would always be safe with Rose.

  ‘So you think you can be happy with a Sicilian man?’ he asked her as they lay curled together on his bed. ‘We can be hot-headed.’

  ‘Flying twelve hundred miles for a coffee is fine by me.’ She nudged him in the ribs.

  ‘Stubborn...’

  ‘I like a man who knows his own mind.’

  ‘Possessive.’

  ‘I just noticed. You should keep that up.’

  ‘Very possessive.’

  Rose gave him just the answer he wanted. ‘Just try that. See how it works out. Anyway, what about English girls? We can be cold.’

  ‘I love your ice.’ Matteo nipped at her ear and she shivered. ‘It makes your fire even more exquisite.’

  ‘Undemonstrative...’

  ‘Right. Like just now.’ She laughed, snuggling into his arms, and Matteo held her tight. ‘Go to sleep now, bellissima.’

  ‘Only if you’ll be there when I wake up.’

  ‘I will be.’ This morning, and every other morning, if she’d let him.

  * * *

  ‘It’ll take a little time. To hand over my work at the hospital to a replacement.’ By morning, there was no question. They both knew that being together was the only option that really mattered.

  ‘Not so fast.’ Rose leaned forward,
pressing her finger over his lips. They’d come downstairs for breakfast and found nothing in the fridge, so Matteo had gone out to buy coffee and pastries. He’d come back to find her lazing in the hammock, his T-shirt moulding the shape of her body very nicely, so he’d taken his clothes off and joined her there, bringing the bag of pastries with him.

  ‘What’s your idea, then?’ He put his hands behind his head, and she snuggled against him.

  ‘Professor Paulozzi’s been trying to get me to stay here for the rest of the summer. I can say yes, and bring William out here.’

  ‘Which gives me time to organise my move to London.’

  ‘Oh, so you’re going to London, are you? What happens if I decide to take the job he’s offered me?’

  Matteo shook his head. ‘You love London, Rose, it’s your home. I’ve made it my home once before, and I’m happy to do it again with you.’

  ‘And you love Sicily. Look, we have two great places to choose from. And whichever one we do choose, we can spend plenty of holidays in the other. It’s an opportunity, not a problem.’

  ‘I just thought...’ He smiled up at her. ‘I thought that you’d want London, so...’

  ‘Yeah, I know. Enough thinking. Don’t decide what you think I want and then just go ahead and do it. There’s enough archaeology on this island to keep me busy for years, and maybe a little sunshine and a decent cup of coffee is exactly what I want to do with my life.’

  She reached for the paper bag and took the second pastry out of it, breaking a piece off and feeding it to him.

  ‘We’ll work it out.’ This really was a new beginning. Nothing hidden. Nothing unsaid.

  ‘Yes, we will.’ She took a bite from the pastry, and then put it back in the bag. Then Matteo felt her fingers, caressing him.

  ‘You’re a monster, Rose. Wasn’t last night enough?’

  ‘Not nearly enough.’ She shifted her weight on top of him, stretching to brush a kiss against his mouth. ‘Why, are you done yet?’