The Italian Matchmaker(29)

It was early morning when he returned to his senses. He blinked and stood up stiffly. He looked at his watch. It was five o’clock. He stretched and felt the blood rush to his muscles. He stood, watching the sunrise. Its beauty filled his spirit with longing. He felt a tremendous desire to dig the soil with his hands, plant a seed and watch it grow – to create something tangible. Yet, he didn’t know how or where to start.

When he returned to the palazzo his mother was doing yoga on the terrace. ‘What on earth are you doing up at this hour?’ she asked, without moving from the lotus position. She was dressed in a long white shirt and white linen trousers, her feet bare, her scarlet toenails shocking against the serenity of her clothes.

‘I could ask you the same thing.’

‘I do yoga every morning before anyone gets up. It clears my head and settles my spirit. Ready for the day ahead.’

‘I thought you didn’t believe in that rubbish.’

‘It’s a form of exercise like any other.’

‘Not if you start levitating.’

‘I don’t think I’m likely to defy the force of gravity. I’m too earthly minded.’

He laughed. ‘I’ve been down on the beach.’

‘Isn’t it beautiful!’ she gushed. ‘Incantellaria is so magical. I never want to go back to dreary grey London.’

‘I can see why. You live in paradise, Mother.’

‘And it’s being photographed by the Sunday Times.’ She beamed with pride. ‘Leyton Hughes came for the weekend and fell in love. And you know what?’ Too distracted to continue her yoga she stood up, tossed the mat against the wall and took the chair next to her son. ‘Guess who’s going to photograph it?’

‘I don’t know, who?’

She took a breath, articulating each syllable with relish. ‘Panfilo Pallavicini.’ Luca looked blank. ‘Darling, you don’t know who he is?’ She clicked her tongue disapprovingly. ‘He’s the most famous interiors photographer in the whole of Italy. There’s no one who even comes close. He’s devastatingly attractive too! Leyton has promised me.’

‘I hope you won’t be disappointed.’

‘I trust Leyton absolutely. I gave him the best bedroom overlooking the sea. He adores me! And his wife adores Porci. She played with him all weekened and he followed her around like a lapdog.’

‘When is all this happening?’

‘It’s scheduled for June to come out in the September issue. They plan so far ahead, they’re working on Christmas in the summer. Must be very hard to muster up Christmas spirit in the heat! The journalist is coming in a few weeks. She’s going to stay for the weekend so she really gets a feel for the place. Perhaps you and Caradoc can help with her research. Have you found anything out yet?’

Luca shrugged. ‘Nothing that you don’t already know.’

‘You are useless. What did you do? Spend all afternoon drinking coffee?’

‘Something like that. The professor’s good company.’

‘Didn’t I tell you! You might be a grown-up but sometimes your mother knows best! Well, the journalist can dig around for herself. After all, that’s what she’s being paid to do. Let her earn her salary.’

‘Maybe she’ll discover who’s been sleeping in the folly.’

‘Don’t mention that place! It’s your father, of course. He just won’t admit it. He doesn’t want to acknowledge he’s getting old and in need of naps.’ She laughed. ‘I’ll catch him at it and then he’ll feel very ashamed of lying.’

‘Maybe it’s the ghost!’ he teased.

‘Not you too! Dizzy says she saw a man walk across the garden in the middle of the night and that silly girl Ventura complains the whole time that the palazzo is haunted.’

‘And you don’t believe in ghosts?’

‘Of course I don’t. I don’t want to. Your grandmother . . .’ She hesitated a moment. ‘Oh, let’s not talk about her. If anyone was going to come back as a ghost it would be my mother and I haven’t heard a squeak since she died. Believe me, if she was squeaking on the other side the whole of Italy would hear her. It’s for simple-minded people with nothing better to do.’ Her face hardened and Luca felt his stomach clench as he remembered when she had dismissed his childhood fears so brutally.

He got up. ‘Where are you going?’ she demanded. She had hoped to share an early coffee.

‘To bed,’ he replied with a yawn.

‘You mean, you haven’t gone to bed yet? What on earth were you doing on the beach?’