The Italian Matchmaker(34)

‘Ah, Professor,’ he said, wrapping a towel around his waist.

‘You are full of energy,’ Caradoc observed, putting down his book.

‘I went to the trattoria,’ Luca explained.

‘Was that delightful girl there? The one in red?’

‘Rosa.’

‘Ah, the lovely Rosa. Yes, was she there?’

‘She works there, Professor. I think she’s always there.’

‘Then I should make a daily pilgrimage.’

Luca laughed. ‘She’d love that.’

‘I’m past my prime now but, between you and me, I was a bit of a rogue in my day.’

‘I’m sure you still are.’

‘I’m a bit long in the tooth now. I can only remember the good old days.’

‘I saw the widow too,’ Luca said ruefully.

‘She rejected you again? That must have dented your pride.’

‘I don’t know what I said to upset her.’

‘Well?’

‘Long story, but her son was there and he gave me a butterfly. Then, when Cosima passed, the butterfly flew on to her dress. I told her it looked pretty and she almost smiled.’

‘You thought you had her then. A pretty fish on the hook,’ the professor said shrewdly.

‘Let’s just say she was warming to me.’

‘Then what?’

‘I mentioned her son and she looked at me with such venom.’

Caradoc frowned. ‘Now, why would she do that?’

‘I can’t imagine. Then she muttered “foreigner” under her breath and stalked off.’

‘You’re not entirely foreign. You were speaking to her in Italian, were you not?’

‘Of course. What she meant was that I’m not from here.’

‘She doesn’t trust you. That’s the problem.’

‘She doesn’t know me,’ Luca complained.

‘Girls have noses for men like you. Don’t deny it, Luca, my boy. I know you. Takes one to know one. Why do you think we get along so well, you and I? Because we’re the same underneath. We like pretty girls and in my day they liked me. I got into a fair bit of trouble. Then I grew up.’

‘What made you grow up?’

‘Love. Love changed everything.’

‘Myrtle.’

‘My Myrtle. I won’t love again.’ He looked at Luca with affection. ‘You’ll know what I mean one day.’

Luca shrugged. ‘I’m not sure I’m designed for love.’

‘That’s just when it hits you. When you don’t think you need it. Then, you can’t believe you lived so long without it. Now going back to that delightful girl . . .’

‘Rosa.’

‘And she was fayr as is the rose in May. Fancy taking tea with me at the trattoria?’

Luca shook his head. ‘I’ve had enough of that place for one day.’ When the professor looked disappointed, he relented. ‘We’ll have lunch there on Monday. They do cook a good red mullet, I recommend it very highly.’

That night they ate on the terrace. The candlelight drew moths and midges, and crickets rang out from the undergrowth; the moon hung low and heavy in a sky full of stars. Luca couldn’t stop thinking about Cosima. How dare she rebuff him when he was only being kind?

‘I read in my guidebook that it’s the festival of Santa Benedetta next week,’ said Dizzy. ‘Maxwell and I would love to stay for it.’

Ma caught the professor’s eye and pulled a face of mock horror.

‘It’s very dull,’ said Romina. ‘The statue never weeps and everyone goes home disappointed.’

‘Don’t you think it’ll be interesting from a cultural point of view, to see how the locals celebrate religious festivals?’

‘Not at all,’ said Romina. ‘They are very primitive.’

‘Actually, I think it is very interesting,’ interrupted Bill. ‘Ignore Romina! She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.’

‘Darling, even you found it dull.’

‘Disappointing, not dull. It’s in celebration of a miracle that happened some hundred years ago. The descendants of Benedetta still live here in Incantellaria. They lead the procession . . .’

‘Then they have a jolly good party afterwards, in spite of their disappointment,’ said Romina scathingly.

‘They continue to celebrate the original miracle,’ corrected Bill patiently.

Romina rolled her eyes. ‘Italians love a good party – and we love fireworks. It’s all very noisy and over the top.’

‘You sound like an old woman,’ her husband teased.

‘I am an old woman. I like a little peace and quiet.’

‘Well, I think we should go,’ said Maxwell.