The Italian Matchmaker(15)

‘So, you are the famous Luca,’ said the professor. ‘Your parents speak very highly of you.’

‘They are biased,’ Luca replied, wishing he didn’t have to bother with the old codger.

‘It would be unusual if they weren’t. Isn’t it splendid here?’

‘It certainly is.’ Luca noticed how at home the professor looked in that leather armchair. ‘How long have you been here?’ he asked.

‘Oh, a couple of weeks now. One loses track of time. Your mother is such a perfect hostess, I don’t see much point in going home.’

‘What are you a professor of?’

‘History,’ Caradoc replied. ‘I specialise in Ancient History. This palazzo must have a rich heritage and I have told Romina that once I have found an interpreter I will endeavour to uncover its past. You see, I don’t speak Italian, only Latin which is helpful up to a point. Beyond that point it is utterly useless. The locals here don’t seem to speak any English at all.’

‘Ah, an obstacle then,’ said Luca.

‘Obstacles can be surmounted, if one uses a little lateral thinking. You are in my lateral vision, young man. Surely you speak Italian?’

‘Of course.’

‘Good. I will enlist your help, Luca. The two of us will make a formidable team.’ He smacked his lips. ‘Holmes and Watson! What fun we shall have. I so enjoy unravelling mysteries.’ Luca was already planning to make himself scarce.

‘Darling, don’t dither. The professor likes his quiet time before lunch,’ she said now, waving at her son to join her on the terrace. Caradoc returned to his newspaper and Luca returned to his tour, following his mother out into the sunshine.

There, at a long table nibbling on bruschette, sat a group of strangers. Luca’s heart sank. He had come away to avoid people. He had planned to spend time taking stock of his life, not sit around gassing with old people.

He looked around. The view of the sea and town was spectacular, down into the heart of Incantellaria. Romina sailed up to her guests. ‘My friends, allow me to introduce my son, Luca.’ He wondered, looking at the group so comfortable there in the shade with their glasses of wine, if they had all been in residence as long as the professor.

Romina proceeded to introduce them one by one, starting with a petite woman with curly blonde hair and big blue eyes. She wore a pale pink chiffon shirt tied in a bow at the neck. ‘This is Dizzy and her husband Maxwell, who live in Vienna, and that darling little creature on her lap is Smidge.’ Dizzy was stroking a fluffy white dog with long manicured nails.

‘Hello, Luca. We’ve heard so much about you.’

‘Hi,’ said Maxwell, running a hand over his balding head. ‘Good to meet you, finally! A man who bats on the same team!’

‘Maxwell works in finance too,’ explained Romina. Luca tried to stifle his irritation. Everything about Maxwell and Dizzy was repugnant.

‘And this is Ma Hemple.’ Romina placed her hands on an elderly lady’s soft shoulders. Ma was totally grey except for dramatic black streaks that swept from her forehead to the bun that was tied on top of her head, like a racoon. When she took off her large red-rimmed sunglasses her eyes were a surprisingly pale shade of green. Her lips were crimson, matching the poppies on her dress which she wore over wide black trousers. She was a large woman with a dry sense of humour some could mistake for rudeness.

‘About time!’ she said without smiling. ‘We were beginning to think your mother was making you up.’ Her accent was as upper class as the professor’s, her tone deep and fruity.

‘That is why I came, to save her face,’ Luca replied solemnly.

‘Well, just in time! Come and join us. There is a bruschetta left and it has your name on it.’ Luca had no option but to remain among this extraordinary gathering. He wondered where his mother had found them all. Her appetite for new people was voracious.

‘Isn’t this fun!’ said Romina, casting her eyes to the French doors in the hope that Ventura would appear with refreshment. ‘Silly woman! I’d better go and get her. We need more wine. Wine for my son!’

As Romina disappeared inside, the professor emerged on Luca’s father’s arm. ‘Ah, here’s my boy,’ said Bill, grinning at Luca. He was tall and lean with thinning grey hair partially hidden under a stiff panama hat, a good-looking man with a wide, infectious smile. He was even-tempered and consistently jovial, which was just as well, being married to the mercurial Romina.

‘Hi Dad,’ said Luca. They embraced, clearly pleased to see each other.

‘So, what do you think of our new home?’