The Italian Matchmaker(5)

‘My dear Peggy!’ he exclaimed. ‘You’re a vision in scarlet.’ She blushed the colour of her tights.

‘Thank you, Mr Davenport. Just something I threw on this morning. Nothing special.’

Lunch was in the dining-room at a large round walnut table. Freya had placed an elegant display of arum lilies in the centre and used the silver and crystal she’d been given as wedding presents. It was still raining, the clouds, heavy and bruised, moving slowly across the sky. Freya lit the candles because it was so dark, and the golden glow enhanced the cosiness of the room that was as stylish as its mistress.

Luca sat on Freya’s left with Emily on his other side. Fitz was placed on Freya’s right. As they tucked into the lamb Fitz caught up with Luca, whom he hadn’t seen in a very long time.

‘Freya married Miles, I married Claire, we drifted,’ said Luca simply. ‘Now I’m divorced I’ve returned to my old friends. Freya has welcomed me back without rebuke.’

‘I’m sorry your marriage didn’t work out.’

‘So am I.’ He shrugged. ‘But it’s life.’

‘I’ve been through it twice. I sympathise.’

‘Third time lucky, then,’ said Luca. ‘I don’t think I’m going to be in any hurry to tie myself down again.’

‘There’s no need,’ interjected Freya. ‘You have two adorable little girls to give all your time to.’

‘I like being married,’ said Fitz. ‘Rosemary picked me up when I was at a low ebb and has organised my life ever since. I don’t know what I’d do without her.’

‘Claire just spent my money and nagged,’ Luca said wryly.

‘All women nag,’ said Fitz. ‘I hear you quit the City.’

‘Yes, I’ve done my bit.’

‘It was all over the financial pages.’

‘I didn’t read them.’

‘No one can understand it. You’ve put the fear of God into them. Do you know something they don’t?’

Luca shook his head and grinned. ‘I woke up one morning and realised I was working like a clockwork mouse programmed to make money. To make rich men richer. It’s a soulless existence. Money, money, money. How much money do I need to be happy? How much do I need to be free? I want more, I just don’t know what it is yet.’

‘What are you going to do?’ Fitz asked.

Luca shrugged. ‘That’s the million dollar question.’

Freya joined in. ‘I told him to take the summer off. Go to Italy and stay with his parents in their new palazzo on the Amalfi coast.’

Fitz’s eyes lit up. ‘The Amalfi coast?’

‘It’s a small fishing town called Incantellaria. You’ve probably never heard of it.’

‘Incantellaria,’ Fitz repeated, turning pale. ‘Bill and Romina have bought Palazzo Montelimone?’

‘You know it?’ Luca asked.

Fitz glanced nervously at his wife. ‘I went there once, many years ago. The palazzo was a ruin.’

‘My parents bought it about three years ago. It took two years to renovate.’

‘But what a perfect team!’ Freya exclaimed. ‘Bill’s an architect, Romina’s an interiors painter. I bet it’s stunning.’

‘They wanted to recreate it as it was before a fire almost destroyed it in the sixties. Return it to its former splendour. I haven’t gone out there yet. I’ve been too busy. I haven’t seen them in months. Now I’m free I just might pay them a visit.’

They turned to Fitz expectantly. ‘What took you to Incantellaria?’ Luca enquired.

Fitz stared down at his plate. ‘A very special woman.’ He said the words with such tenderness Freya felt the hairs stand up on her arms. ‘Before I met your mother, Freya,’ he added tactfully.

‘Apparently it’s a very secret place,’ said Luca.

‘Secret and secretive,’ Fitz confirmed. ‘Once you start digging in Incantellaria, there’s no telling what you’ll uncover.’





2



Fitz took the dogs out alone after lunch. Miles was required at the bridge table. This was a relief for Fitz who wanted time with his memories, as bright now as if they had just received an unexpected polishing. He strode up the track towards the woods. Digger and Bendico disappeared into the field in pursuit of hares. The dark clouds had moved on, taking the rain with them. Now, patches of blue were visible and occasionally the sun shone, catching the wet foliage and making it glitter.

Incantellaria. The very word pulled at his heart, creating a mixture of regret and longing. He couldn’t help but think of what might have been. Now he was old he appreciated the miracle of love and the fact that, having let it go, he would never get it back.