The Italian Matchmaker (37 page)

He took her around the gardens and down to the folly, which she found as enchanting as he knew she would. They sat on the bed where he had made love to Cosima and finally, after discussing the beauty of the little building and the tragedy of its history, they talked about Miles.

‘I never thought Miles would be the type to stray,’ she said, curling a lock of hair behind her ear. ‘He’s not exactly a ladies’ man.’

‘Who is she?’

‘One of his regular bridge four. She’s not even attractive. She’s got lanky brown hair and a round face.’ They both laughed.

‘What’s got into the man?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe I’m too wholesome for him.’

‘Wholesome is a good thing,’ said Luca kindly.

‘Maybe he wants dirty sex, someone who’ll do all the kinky things I don’t want to do.’

‘What kinky things don’t you want to do?’ Luca couldn’t help himself.

She blushed. ‘I don’t know. Miles hasn’t exactly asked me to do anything. He’s very conventional. I’m just trying to find an explanation.’

‘So, you gave him an ultimatum?’

‘I told him to finish it or I’ll take the children and leave him.’

‘I imagine you put the fear of God in him?’

‘I think I did.’

‘I’m sure he’ll do what’s right.’

‘But can I trust him now? I’m not sure I can.’

‘You have four children who need you to trust him, or at least to make the marriage work.’

‘Yours have adjusted, haven’t they?’

‘Yes, I think so. But I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Coco and Juno came for a week and it was great, but naturally they’d be better off if Claire and I had stayed together.’

‘But now they have the best of both worlds. Time with Mummy in England and time here with Daddy.’

‘It hasn’t been easy for them. Every child wants their parents to love each other.’ He looked at her steadily. ‘Do you still love Miles?’

She didn’t hesitate. ‘Of course. But he’s hurt me.’

‘If you didn’t love him he wouldn’t have the power to hurt you.’

‘We’ve been married for ten years. I can’t imagine life without him. I was arrogant enough to think I was the centre of his world. I never imagined he’d fall in love with someone else. I feel as if he’s knocked the wind out of me.’ She smiled sheepishly. ‘I’m not so arrogant any more.’

Luca touched her shoulder. ‘You’ll go back in a few days and he’ll have ditched the dog. You’re going to have to make a real effort not to let it destroy you.’

‘I know. If he gives her up, I’ve got to let it go. It won’t be easy.’

‘But you’ve shown him you mean business.’

‘I don’t think he ever imagined I’d just run off like this.’ She grinned. ‘I think you’ve put the wind up him, Luca.’

‘Me?’

‘Yes. I told him I was coming out here to see you. If anyone can provoke his jealousy, it’s you.’

‘I’m glad I’m helpful.’

‘You’re more than helpful,’ she replied, squeezing his hand. ‘You’re a real friend.’

 

Fitz was nervous about seeing Alba again in spite of the fact that they had both married and found happiness with other people. Thirty years could be reduced to almost nothing when it came to the emotions. Alba had broken his heart. Rosemary had put a plaster over the wound, but beneath the superficial healing it still remained open. He didn’t suffer the same acute pain as in those first few months after she had left, and time served to dull the discomfort, but the ache was always there. A niggling regret. A longing for something precious. He often wondered about her and fantasised about what might have been. Now, gazing at the beauty that was Incantellaria, he wondered whether he would have been happy here. He wished he could say with certainty that he would not.

Romina loved nothing more than what she described as a ‘situation’. She would have never imagined Fitzroy Davenport and Alba Pallavicini together. He was so incredibly English – a cigar and slippers sort of man – while Alba was so Italian. Her father might have been English, but Incantellaria had brought out the Italian in her. She and Fitz were as different as a Great Dane and a sleek black panther. She didn’t see the parallels with her own marriage – Romina wasn’t a woman who was self-aware. If things had been different, Fitz might have ended up running the
trattoria
instead of being married to the well-meaning but bossy Rosemary. She could barely restrain her impatience to thrust the former lovers together and wished she could whisk Rosemary off to give them time to talk about the past without her hanging over them like a fearsome judge. Rosemary wouldn’t allow them a moment alone. Women like her were fragile beneath their brittle exteriors and seething with jealousy. She had done well to ensnare Fitz and Fitz was a fool to have got caught!

After a guided tour around Palazzo Montelimone, Romina gathered up the house party and squeezed them into Nanni’s car and her little yellow Fiat. Freya stayed with Luca in the folly. She had no desire to watch Fitz and his old girlfriend humiliate her mother.

Alba had made an effort with her appearance. Not that she didn’t normally, but today she knew the chances of Fitz walking into the
trattoria
were very high and she wanted to look her best. She had washed her hair, leaving it to fall down her back in shiny waves, and chosen a black dress imprinted with red and green flowers that hugged her curvaceous body, emphasising the swell of her breasts and the rounded lines of her hips and bottom. She wasn’t as slim as she had been when Fitz had known her, but she knew she looked good for a grandmother. There came a time in a woman’s life when she had to choose between her face and her figure. Alba had reached that point and chosen her face. The extra pounds made her skin look plump and youthful but her waist was thicker than she would have liked. She painted her eyelashes and applied a little blusher, hoping no one would notice and draw attention to it. She hadn’t told Panfilo that Fitz was coming. The chances were they wouldn’t meet. Panfilo had gone to Milan for a few days and, even if he were to come home, a man as self-assured as Panfilo wouldn’t be concerned about the sudden arrival of an old flame of hers. She didn’t even think he’d be curious. As she left the house she hoped Fitz would pay her a visit after all the trouble she had gone to.

It seemed everyone was at the
trattoria
that day. Rosa and Cosima were serving tables while Toto was chatting to the regulars. Lunchtime was busy. A big boat brought tourists from Sorrento and there was barely a spare seat in the whole town. Alba was so distracted that she didn’t notice Rosa’s smug smile or the way she bounced off the balls of her feet when she walked. The two barely spoke to one other. Only Cosima commented on Alba’s appearance, telling her how good she looked. Alba grinned at her and replied ‘
Vecchio pollo fa buon brodo
– Old chicken makes good broth.’

By teatime, Alba’s excitement had waned. She had sat at the table in the corner going through the accounts for long enough, barely daring to go out in case Fitz turned up and caught her off guard. She wasn’t sure how to react. She didn’t usually spend all day in the
trattoria
. ‘I’m going home,’ she said to Cosima at last. Her good mood had deflated. She was like a girl who’d been stood up on her first date. ‘You can hold the fort with your father and Rosa. I’ll see you later.’ As Alba strode off across the terrace, something made her stop in her tracks.

There, walking up the quay, was Fitzroy Davenport. He hadn’t changed at all, perhaps a little grey around the temples and a little more weathered, but he had those boyish good looks that didn’t age very much. He saw her too and his face opened into a wide, infectious smile. He forgot about Rosemary, a few yards behind him. It was thirty years ago and he was striding towards the love of his life.

‘My God, I can’t believe it’s you,’ he said, kissing her cheek. ‘I can’t believe you’re still here. You haven’t changed a bit!’ She smiled up at him and Fitz saw beyond the fifty-six-year-old woman to the girl he had fallen in love with.

‘I said I’d wait for you,’ she whispered. His face clouded. ‘Well, I couldn’t wait for ever, could I?’ She was teasing, but beneath his laugh he was choked with regret.

‘I should have known better.’

‘So, how do you like your old friend?’ said Romina, as if she were the mastermind of their reunion.

‘Very much,’ Fitz replied, reluctantly letting Alba go. He felt his wife at his side. She linked her arm through his possessively. ‘This is Rosemary,’ he said. ‘My wife.’

Alba took in the perky woman Fitz had married instead of her. ‘Welcome to Incantellaria.’

‘Very nice to meet you,’ replied Rosemary, who had already noted Alba’s dark beauty and astonishingly pale eyes. ‘I’ve heard so much about you.’

Fitz knew what Alba would think of Rosemary and the laughter in her eyes confirmed his suspicions. ‘Come, let’s find a table where we can all sit and catch up,’ she said, leading the way across the terrace.

‘I must sit in the shade,’ said Ma, helping Caradoc as he walked stiffly, leaning on his stick.

‘Where’s the lovely Rosa?’ he asked.

‘She’s gone home to her children.’

‘Words cannot express my disappointment!’

‘Well, isn’t that a relief!’ said Ma. ‘You can keep quiet then.’

They all sat down. Alba wished she could be alone with Fitz, but it was impossible. That wife of his reminded her of her stepmother, the woman she had rudely referred to as the Buffalo. Who’d have thought that Fitz would end up with a woman like her? She noticed the helpless look in his eyes. He wished he were alone with her, too. Instead, they had to catch up in front of a curious audience and a jealous wife. She raised her hand and summoned her niece. ‘Cosima, why don’t you bring everyone tea and coffee?’

Cosima pulled out a pad and pencil. ‘So, Fitz,’ said Alba, leaning into the table. ‘Do you still have dogs and a smelly old Volvo?’

‘Why didn’t Luca and Freya join us?’ Ma asked.

‘They’ve got a lot of catching up to do,’ Romina replied. She noticed Cosima’s pencil pause over the paper as Nanni and Caradoc gave her their orders.

‘Freya has always had a soft spot for Luca,’ said Rosemary, trying not to listen to her husband’s conversation with Alba.

‘Bad timing,’ said Romina, deliberately raising her voice. ‘They would have been perfect together.’

‘Luca’s handsome but fickle. I can’t say I’m surprised his marriage broke up. That man’s not made for monogamy.’

‘I think you’ll find Luca’s heart is well and truly full,’ Caradoc interjected, catching Cosima’s eye.

Cosima smiled at him gratefully, although she felt sick in her stomach. Luca hadn’t mentioned Freya. Nor had he mentioned she was staying at the
palazzo
. Her anger began to simmer. It wasn’t the fact that he was with another woman that set her off balance, but the fact that he hadn’t told her.

Once everyone had given their order, Cosima retreated inside. She took the mobile phone out of her pocket and switched it off. If he was capable of lying about that, what else was he capable of lying about? If she couldn’t trust him, what was the point in having a relationship?

Luca and Freya stayed in the folly until six. They talked about Miles in great detail. Luca listened patiently and tried to give good advice though the subject was beginning to bore him. As late afternoon turned the little folly amber, he suggested a walk down on the beach, then that they make their way around the bay to meet the others at the
trattoria
. He knew he had to tell her about Cosima. If she believed he was available for her, the idea of leaving her husband might seem more attractive. He didn’t want to give her false hope. More importantly he didn’t want to upset Cosima.

The sea stretched out before them, sparkling in the evening light. A few boats cut through the ocean, gleaming white in the sunshine, and sea birds wheeled on the air. Freya breathed in the scent of wild thyme that grew among the rocks and felt her spirits grow light despite her husband’s infidelity. Incantellaria had entered her soul through all her senses. She watched Luca in front of her. He walked tall, his shoulders back, his skin tanned by the sun, his hair gleaming in the light. She felt as if she were the one indulging in the affair. She recalled Luca telling her that letting her go was the stupidest thing he had ever done. Then she blushed when she remembered how he had wanted to make love to her. She hadn’t forgotten about 1979 either, the summer they had been lovers. She hadn’t forgotten a single detail. He had been her very first. She smiled as she wondered what it would be like, now that she was no longer innocent. They could make love – after all they were unfinished business – and no one would be any the wiser. Then she could return home to Miles, and only she would know the sweetness of her revenge.

‘You know, there’s a story of red carnations being swept up the beach by a mystery tide,’ said Luca, putting his hands in his pockets and feeling the bulk of Cosima’s ring.

‘Do you believe it really happened?’

‘It certainly happened. But who put them there? The Mediterranean has no tide.’

‘And Jesus weeping blood?’

‘A clever priest.’

‘Do you believe in anything you can’t see?’ she asked, remembering his clash with Hugo.

‘Yes, I do.’

He thought of Francesco but couldn’t begin to explain all the strange things that had happened to him over the past week. What a vastness he and Cosima shared, and what depth the bond that it had engendered. Fond as he was of Freya, he didn’t have the will to share it with her. ‘Listen, there’s something I want to tell you.’

Rosa was walking down to the beach with Alessandro and Olivia when she saw Luca in the distance with a strange woman. She hissed at her children to be quiet, then stood watching them. They were deep in conversation, standing very close. Rosa saw him pull out a little box and give it to her. The mystery woman was pretty. Rosa could tell, even from that distance. Her long, fine hair blew about on the breeze and her pale skin seemed translucent against the backdrop of the sea. She was slim and willowy with long legs and arms, even though she was wearing an unflattering pair of shorts. The woman took the box. Rosa’s anger mounted. Did Cosima know they were here? The woman hesitated before opening it, gesturing to him as if in protest. But he encouraged her by pushing her hand. When she saw what was inside, she shook her head, closed the box and threw her arms around him. They held each other close, as close as lovers, for what felt like an indecently long time. Dizzy with rage, Rosa took her children by the hand, turned around, and walked back up the path, her mind racing with possibilities. No wonder he had flirted with
her
. She had seen him flirting with Stephanie too. He was a playboy. She had had a narrow escape. Cosima wasn’t so lucky; she was as vulnerable as a sitting duck to a huntsman. She should never have trusted him. Rosa knew she had to do what was right for her cousin. Blood was thicker than water; she had to be told.