The Italian Matchmaker(16)

‘It’s spectacular.’

‘Not bad for an architect and a painter, eh?’

‘Not bad at all.’

‘How long are you staying?’

‘I don’t know. I’ll take every day as it comes.’

‘Like us. That’s the joy of being retired,’ interjected the professor.

‘Or unemployed,’ Luca added wryly.

‘So I gather,’ said his father. ‘Time to try something different.’

‘What exactly, I don’t know.’

‘You’ll figure it out. Here, have a chair and a glass of wine, that’ll do you the power of good.’

Romina returned followed by Ventura, an attractive young girl with long brown hair and dark eyes, carrying the professor’s walking stick in one hand and a bottle of rosé in the other. ‘Don’t forget to put some food out for Porci,’ said Romina, pulling out a chair. ‘Porci was a house-warming present from your uncle Nanni, Luca.’ Luca raised an eyebrow. His mother didn’t usually like dogs, even little white fluffy ones like Smidge. ‘He’s a pig,’ added Romina, flapping her napkin and placing it on her lap. ‘A darling little pig!’

‘Who wears a nappy inside,’ said Ma. ‘A most uncommon sight. Though, I would say he has a certain hoggish charm.’

‘He’s a cutie,’ chirped in Dizzy. ‘But he’s naughty because he doesn’t like Smidge.’

‘Who’s to blame him?’ said Ma under her breath.

‘The only reason he’s not on the menu is because your mother wants the children to see him,’ said Bill to Luca.

‘They’ll adore him,’ Romina gushed.

‘And if they don’t, we’ll eat him,’ said Ma.

Two butlers in uniform appeared on the terrace with trays of food. The professor’s eyes brightened at the sight of the feast, but Ma gave a heavy sigh. ‘What are we to do with all of that? Am I not fat enough already? The little pig is going to be a lucky little pig, troughing on the remains of our banquet.’

‘Remember, I don’t eat carbohydrates,’ said Dizzy with an apologetic laugh. ‘They make me bloat.’

‘More for the pig,’ Ma said, obviously irritated by Dizzy. ‘Is there anything else you don’t eat?’

‘Oh yes . . .’ Dizzy began but Ma’s snort silenced her.

‘You must be fun to live with.’

‘Right, darlings, tuck in!’ Romina instructed excitedly.

‘Except for you, Dizzy. You can watch us eat,’ said Ma. Dizzy looked sternly at her husband, who chose to ignore her, helping himself to a healthy bowl of spaghetti.

They dined on tomato and garlic pasta, steak and vegetables followed by cheese and a raspberry soufflé. By the time coffee was served they were light-headed with wine and sleepy from so much food. Luca lit a cigarette and sat back in his chair. Romina smoked too, inhaling contentedly while her guests settled their stomachs with mint tea and black coffee.

‘I’m going into town after a little nap,’ said the professor. ‘Do you want to come with me, Luca? I could do with your help.’

‘I think I’ll hang around here this afternoon,’ he replied. He rather fancied lying in the sun by the pool.

‘There’s a lot of local talent,’ said Maxwell.

‘Italian girls are so pretty,’ gushed Dizzy.

‘But they all end up as fat as me,’ said Ma.

‘It’s those carbohydrates,’ said Dizzy with a smile.

‘I want to show you the folly,’ said Romina.

‘The one thing we kept exactly as it was,’ Bill added.

‘Oh, it’s a fabulous little Hansel and Gretel house,’ enthused Dizzy. ‘Though Smidge got a bit restless in there, didn’t you, darling?’ She kissed the dog on her mouth, provoking a grimace from Ma as the dog’s little pink tongue flitted across her mistress’s lips.

‘Consider your husband!’ said Ma. ‘Dogs lick their bottoms.’

‘Because they can,’ Max said with a smirk. Ma’s fleshy lips twitched in suppressed amusement.

Romina stood up. ‘Come, Luca,’ she said.

‘Who are all these people?’ he asked as they walked down a narrow path that wound its way through the garden to the cliffs.

Romina shrugged. ‘People we have picked up along the way.’

‘Do you always have the place full of . . . freaks?’

‘Darling!’ she chided. ‘We have all sorts, old friends and new friends alike. I love to fill the palazzo with interesting people from all over the world.’

‘When are they leaving?’

‘I don’t know. People come and go, but most of them want to stay. Incantellaria has a particular magic. Once you come here, you don’t want to leave.’