The Italian Matchmaker(117)

‘Nero was so sad when I found him. He was like a lost dog, lingering over the body of his dead master. A pitiful sight.’

‘Where do you live?’ Cosima asked.

‘In a small house in the hills not far from here. I bought it with the last of Ovidio’s fortune when the palazzo became uninhabitable. I struggled to hold on to it, truly I did, but it was rotting around me. In the end I was forced to go. But like a homing pigeon I came back every day and watched it slowly sink into the garden. I left this folly as it was because everything in it was chosen specifically for here by Ovidio. These books, the statue, paintings, furniture, rugs, none of it has any value anywhere else but here, in Ovidio’s folly. So I left it like a shrine.’

‘Isn’t that romantic?’

‘You couldn’t count on my mother keeping it the way it was,’ said Luca.

‘No, I tried to frighten people away but I wasn’t a very convincing ghost!’

‘So, it was you who haunted the palazzo?’ said Eugenio.

‘I’ve wandered those corridors at night when everyone’s asleep.’ He clearly felt the palazzo still belonged to him. ‘I know every corner, every crevice.’

‘No wonder Ventura complains about ghosts,’ said Luca.

‘She need not be afraid. The only person this ghost has hurt is himself. So, it is your family who live here now?’

‘Yes,’ Luca replied.

‘I was lucky it fell into such sensitive hands. It was a gamble I had to take. I needed the money, so I had to sell.’

‘He likes what your mother’s done to the palazzo,’ said Rosa.

‘She thinks she’s captured the beauty of the original building,’ said Luca.

‘It’s not the same,’ Nero replied sharply. ‘It’s not at all like it was. I’ve got a book of old photographs to prove it. But,’ he conceded graciously, ‘she has good taste. Ovidio appreciated good taste.’

‘Nero and I talk long into the night, don’t we, Nero? You’d be amazed at the people he met with Ovidio. Grandees from all over Europe came and stayed here when he was a boy. The Aga Khan, the Duke and Duchess of Windsor . . . I could listen to Nero’s stories for hours.’ She glanced at her husband for his approval. He looked at her lovingly, relieved beyond words that Nero wasn’t the young lover he had feared.

‘And I could talk for hours. I don’t like people on the whole, I’m happier with memories of those I loved who are dead. But Rosa and I are friends. I’m no longer alone. How ironic that the granddaughter of the woman who stole Ovidio’s heart is now my consolation.’

At that moment the door opened and Alba’s face peered in, shocked to see that the folly wasn’t empty.

‘Mamma!’ Rosa sat up guiltily.

‘What are you doing here? Oh my God! Nero?’

‘Alba,’ said Nero, pleased to see his audience was growing. ‘Is that Fitz?’ Fitz walked in behind Alba.

‘Come in, don’t be shy. Aren’t the years just falling away!’

‘Rosa, how do you know Nero?’ Alba was baffled. She thought him dead long ago.

‘I found him here.’ She shrugged, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

‘Now we’ve found the intruder, the only thing left is to tell Mother.’

Fitz looked anxiously at Alba. He thought of Rosemary discovering them here together and barely dared contemplate the consequences. ‘I should go,’ he said.

‘Don’t go,’ interjected Nero. ‘We’re having a salon. We must make it a nightly event. It’ll be the most desirable salon in Italy.’

As Fitz turned to leave, he bumped straight into Romina who had appeared in the doorway with Rosemary like a pair of schoolmistresses walking in on an illicit midnight feast. ‘What on earth is going on? Who is that?’ She pointed at Nero.

‘You must be Romina,’ said Nero, standing up. ‘Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Nero. Palazzo Montelimone was once mine.’

‘Nero?’ she repeated. ‘Madonna! The world could not get any stranger! So you are the intruder? Che fascinante! I’ve always wondered. Luca, run to the house and bring some wine, I need a drink. Move over, Rosa my darling, I must sit down. Nero, who’d have thought you would come back from the dead?’

‘I’ve never felt more alive.’ He grinned, revealing a gap where his two teeth had been.

‘My dear friend, tell me all about the Marchese. I’m longing to know.’ At that moment Porci hurried past her, straight into the outstretched arms of Nero.

‘Hello, little pig. I know what you want.’ He withdrew a wedge of cake from his pocket which Porci ate greedily.