The Italian Matchmaker(108)

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.