‘You’re beautiful,’ he replied. ‘You get more beautiful the better I know you.’
She smiled. ‘If I really am beautiful to you, I must cherish you. It’s not every day a man tells me I’m beautiful and means it.’
‘Oh, I mean it,’ he said, looking deep into her eyes. ‘I’ve never meant anything so much in all my life.’
After a while a large, dark-skinned woman appeared with the menu. She was as ripe as an autumn peach with pink cheeks and big bulging eyes. Her grey hair was pulled back into a loose bun, and long beaded earrings dangled from her ears.
‘Ah, this is the best view for young lovers like you,’ she said with a chuckle, handing them each a menu. ‘Prosecco?’
‘Two Bellinis,’ said Luca. ‘To celebrate our first evening together,’ he added to Cosima in English.
The woman struck a match and lit the little hurricane lamp in the centre of the table. ‘There, that’s better,’ she said, standing back to admire it. ‘Now you can enjoy a candle-lit dinner. Take your time to look at the menu. I recommend the fish. You can come around the back and choose from the tank.’
‘This is a splendid place,’ he said.
‘It’s famous. You don’t think I’d bring you anywhere but the best?’
‘So, you’re not worried you’re going to bump into someone you know?’
‘I’m not worried, I just don’t want to antagonise anyone.’
‘Rosa.’
She lowered her eyes. ‘She’s not easy.’
‘The way Alba talks about you, I’m not surprised.’
‘Alba’s like a mother to me.’
‘I can’t imagine Rosa’s too happy about that.’
‘Of course not. But she’s not happy in herself.’
‘Her marriage?’
Cosima sighed. ‘She thinks Eugenio is not good enough for her. She wishes she were like her grandmother with lovers in every corner of Italy.’
‘Valentina?’
‘She’s obsessed with her. It wouldn’t surprise me if she were found murdered on the road to Naples in a car with some millionaire, draped in diamonds and furs. I don’t think she’s faithful to Eugenio for one minute. All she thinks about is material things she doesn’t possess.’
‘Unhappiness comes from wanting what one can’t have.’ He looked at her intently. ‘I’d be unhappy if I couldn’t have you.’ He knitted his fingers through hers across the table. ‘I want to make love to you.’ She blushed and turned away, her gaze lost somewhere out to sea. ‘I know. I won’t push you, my darling. I just want you to know I desire you. We’ve got all the time in the world.’
‘You’d wait that long?’
He barely recognised himself. ‘I’d wait for you for ever.’
Eugenio had picked up his old Fiat from Gianni’s. Rosa had tried to persuade him to buy a new car, but they didn’t have the money to indulge in needless extravagances. She had stomped off in a huff, accusing him of not treating her well. ‘You once called me Princess,’ she had complained. ‘Shame you can’t treat me like one.’ So he had bought her a pretty crystal necklace instead. It wasn’t a car, but she had been pleased. Rosa was like a magpie: if it shone it gave her pleasure.
He was curious to see what the palazzo looked like now. During the lengthy building work the entire place had been hidden behind scaffolding and no one had been allowed into the grounds. The odd builder had come into the trattoria for coffee and given away a few details, but not enough to satisfy the curiosity of the locals. Now Eugenio motored up the sweeping drive, impressed at the beauty of the trees that lined the elegant curve of the approach. The gardens were manicured, large topiary balls clipped into perfect spheres, the lawn mowed, the borders weeded. The palazzo itself took his breath away. It was magnificent, with imposing towers and a grand entrance. The old stone blended with the new and the pink roof-tiles shone like copper beneath the setting sun.
He rang the bell. Romina opened the door and greeted him warmly. At her feet was a little pink pig in a nappy. ‘Don’t be alarmed,’ she said coolly. ‘This is Porci. A gift from my brother. So typical of Nanni to give me a pig!’
‘Unusual to say the least,’ said Eugenio. He couldn’t wait to get home and tell Rosa about the sparkling collar around the animal’s neck.
‘Come through. We’ll go straight to the folly.’
Eugenio followed her through the courtyard, marvelling at the splendour. How was he going to begin to describe it to his wife? He didn’t have the vocabulary. These people must be as rich as kings, he thought. Outside, the rest of the house party sat playing cards or chatting, drinking glasses of white wine. A maid hovered, waiting to take orders. They must have turned the palazzo into a hotel, for no one would entertain so lavishly.