‘It’s Incantellaria,’ Caradoc corrected. ‘I feel twenty years younger.’
‘Well, it hasn’t had that effect on me,’ said Ma. ‘I’ve never rated sex that much. I can’t bear a man clambering all over me, heavy breathing and fumbling about. There are so many better things to do with one’s time.’
The professor looked crestfallen. ‘How about you, Luca?’
‘I agree with you, Professor. The heat does turn one’s thoughts to girls.’
‘But divorce has the effect of a cold shower, I should imagine,’ said Ma. She patted his hand. ‘You’ll have better luck next time. You’re young and foolish enough to give marriage another go. I’d find a nice Italian girl to look after you.’
‘Like Rosa,’ said Caradoc.
‘Not like Rosa,’ said Ma sternly. ‘If I were her husband I wouldn’t trust her as far as I could throw her. She’s got a mischievous glint in her eye that’s nothing but trouble. Mark my words, she’s a handful.’
Rosa returned with their drinks and three slices of lemon cake. ‘My grandmother’s recipe,’ she said. ‘It melts in your mouth.’
‘Like a succulent fruit,’ said Caradoc, gazing up in adoration. Luca saw from the intent look on her face that she was about to mention Cosima.
‘My parents would like to thank you properly for saving Cosima.’
‘There’s no need.’
Her face fell with disappointment.
‘You must all be going through a difficult time,’ he added. ‘I would hate to impose.’
‘Impose? If you hadn’t been so brave she would have drowned. It’s the very least we can do. Besides, Cosima would like to thank you herself.’
‘You’d better go,’ said Ma. ‘If only to ensure the poor girl doesn’t try to drown herself again.’
‘Now’s no time for modesty,’ cajoled Caradoc. ‘If you play the hero you should accept gratitude with grace.’
‘Please,’ Rosa begged. ‘You’re the first ray of light she has had in such a long time. She just wants to say thank you. We all do.’
‘Then I would be delighted,’ Luca conceded, despite his apprehension.
‘Good. Come tonight at seven and I will escort you myself. It is not easy to find the house and I’m no good at giving directions. You can drive me home. Everyone will be so happy!’ she gushed, clapping her hands. No one would be happier than Rosa.
‘Now that smile is worth a million gold pieces,’ said Caradoc, watching her bottom as she went to another table to take orders. ‘Do you want me to come with you?’
‘No, I’ll go alone,’ said Luca. ‘I’m a big boy.’
That evening Cosima waited with her family on the terrace beneath the vine. Curiosity had got the better of her as Rosa had predicted. Beata sat with Toto and Alba while Panfilo chased the children around the olive trees with his dog, provoking squeals of delight. The children were oblivious of the tension in the air as the adults waited for Rosa and Luca to appear.
Finally, the rumble of a car signalled their arrival. Alba went around the house to greet them, while Cosima remained very still, not knowing how to handle the situation. She resented him so for having thwarted her plans, and yet, there was a spark of hope in her heart on account of the boy with the feather.
Alba watched Rosa descend the hill with Luca. He was very tall and broad in his jeans and open-necked blue shirt. The sun had tanned his skin brown and his hair was thick and dark. His eyes were as bright as cornflowers. She greeted him warmly, disguising the trepidation she felt at his connection with the palazzo.
‘Welcome.’ She extended her hand. Luca recognised her as the woman holding the candle at the Festa di Santa Benedetta. ‘You’re so good to come. I’m Alba, Rosa’s mother. Cosima is my niece.’
‘I only did what anyone else would have done,’ he replied humbly.
‘Come. Everyone is waiting on the terrace. Rosa will bring you a prosecco.’
Rosa went into the house, her walk more of a dance, confident that Luca was watching her. She had put her hair up to show the pretty curve of her neck and applied more make-up, the red of her lips matching the red of her nails. If only she had some real diamonds to hang from her ear lobes.
The house was pretty – a sandy stone farmhouse with a grey tiled roof. The windows were framed by blue-grey shutters and protected with elaborate iron bars from which hung small pots of red geraniums. Surrounded by inky green cypress trees and large urns of lilies, it possessed a peaceful charm. Luca followed Alba around the corner, his heart accelerating as he, too, wondered how to deal with the situation. Make it brief and get out as fast as possible without causing offence, he thought.