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The Italian Matchmaker(116)

By:Santa Montefiore


‘Well, thankfully no one else can.’

‘Because they wouldn’t recognise her if she slapped them across the face. I recognise her because I love her.’

‘You’re an incurable romantic.’

‘You once told me that was my problem.’

‘You remember?’

‘Yes, you said that you didn’t believe in love or marriage.’

‘You see, people change.’

‘And I told you that when I fall in love, I lose my heart completely. Once gone, I can never get it back.’

‘Oh, Fitz.’ She took his hand. ‘Are you in love with a memory?’

‘I let you go. The stupidest thing I ever did in my life.’

‘Don’t worry, you’ve got Rosemary,’ she teased.

Alba felt a wave of exhilaration wash over her. Perhaps the girl in a mini skirt and clog boots really was still inside her. ‘Hey, Fitz. Why don’t we sneak up to the palazzo again, just the two of us?’

‘Why would you want to do that?’

‘Because I haven’t been up there since we broke in thirty years ago. I haven’t dared. But with you, I dare.’

He held out his hand to help her up. ‘Let’s go to the folly. No one will have to know. We can sneak in there together. Apparently, Romina hasn’t changed a single thing.’

‘She hasn’t,’ he replied. ‘I’ve seen it, and it’s exactly as it was when your mother combed her hair at the dressing-table.’

‘Oh Fitz, I’m trembling with nerves.’

‘Don’t be scared. We’re in this together. If it wasn’t for my stiffening joints I’d believe I was a young man again.’

‘You are a young man inside,’ she said. ‘I recognise him, because I loved him.’

‘Tell me you still do.’

‘If you remember, I also told you there are many ways of loving.’

‘So you still love me.’

She set off up the hill. ‘I still love you, Fitz,’ she shouted back.

He hurried after her. ‘And I love you for loving me still!’

Rosa parked the car a little way down the hill from the palazzo. They didn’t want Romina to find them sneaking around. Cosima took Luca’s hand and followed Rosa through the trees until, they reached the folly. It was dark. A misty moon rose slowly into the navy sky and the sparkling eyes of a thousand stars began their nocturnal vigil. The breeze rustled through the leaves and invisible crickets sang their habitual song in the undergrowth.

Rosa opened the door. Inside, the warm glow of candlelight illuminated the room. Rosa walked in. Eugenio, Luca and Cosima followed, craning their necks to see who was inside. There at the back window, smoking into the night air, stood a man. He was so thin his trousers hung off him, cinched at the waist by a belt, leaving his ankles exposed. He wore a white shirt and the little hair that he had was as white as goose down. The hand that held the cigarette was bony, covered in skin as diaphanous as moths’ wings, mottled pink and brown. The room was filled with the same sweet perfume that had clung to the mysterious scarf.

‘Nero?’ said Rosa softly. The old man turned. When he saw she wasn’t alone he seemed to shiver with pleasure.

‘So, we have company tonight,’ he said languidly. ‘Che bello!’

‘This is my husband, Eugenio, my cousin, Cosima, and her fiancé, Luca.’

‘Ah, Eugenio, I have heard only good things about you.’ Eugenio didn’t know what to say: he could never have imagined this. ‘And Luca, welcome.’ He settled his pale eyes on Cosima, devouring her features. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Cosima. I can see the resemblance,’ he added, extending his hand. Cosima shook it. The skin was as cold and damp as a corpse. ‘But, you, Rosa, are the one who has inherited your grandmother’s face.’

‘You’re the Marchese’s adopted son?’ said Luca incredulously.

‘The very same. This was my special place. Ovidio loved this more than anywhere else in the world. When he died I let the palazzo go.’ He waved his hand, dismissive of his past. ‘I fell apart and the palazzo fell apart around me. But this, this I looked after, for Ovidio. And he’s still here. Can you feel him?’ Cosima looked around warily. ‘Well, sit down everyone. Let’s not stand on ceremony.’

He pulled out the chair in front of the dressing-table and Rosa threw herself on to the bed as if she owned it, patting the place beside her for Eugenio to join her. Luca and Cosima, uncomfortably aware that Nero had probably watched them making love, sat together on the floor.

‘You can imagine my delight when I first saw Rosa. I thought Valentina had risen from the dead. We’re friends, aren’t we, Rosa?’