Eugenio came home from the palazzo to find Alba and Rosa preparing dinner. His wife fell on him with excitement. ‘So, what’s it like up there? Tell me everything.’
Alba went back into the kitchen to check on the pasta. She didn’t want to hear about the palazzo.
‘It’s astonishing,’ he said, taking off his cap and scratching his scalp. ‘I saw the Marchese’s love-nest.’
‘Did you find the intruder?’
‘Just as I thought. Nothing.’
‘How very dull. Not even a little ghostie?’ Rosa ran a scarlet fingernail down his chest.
‘Not even a little ghostie.’
‘I’d like to make love to you in that little folly.’
‘I don’t think that will be possible, now the case is being handed over to Inspector Luca.’ He didn’t bother to hide the resentment in his voice.
‘So, he’s really going to guard the door?’
‘I think so. How else is he going to find the intruder?’
‘I love a mystery!’
‘I don’t think there is a mystery. But you know what? I think she’s turned the place into a hotel.’
‘You’re not serious!’
‘I am. There were so many people up there.’
‘Don’t tell Mamma. She’ll be furious!’
‘Don’t tell me what?’ said Alba, appearing in the doorway with a large bowl. Eugenio and Rosa exchanged glances.
‘It looks like that woman has turned the palazzo into a hotel.’
Alba almost dropped the bowl. ‘What? Are you sure?’
‘She had so many guests. There must have been at least fifteen people on the terrace,’ he exaggerated. ‘Drinking wine, playing cards.’
‘Won’t it be good for business?’ Rosa asked.
‘Incantellaria can’t take all these people.’
‘I don’t think fifteen are going to make a big difference.’ Eugenio enjoyed teasing his mother-in-law.
‘You don’t know how many that place can hold. She might have fifty by August . . .’ Alba sank into a chair. ‘I don’t like the thought of that place being turned into a palace of amusement. They’re probably dining out on the history, taking tours around the rooms. It’s not right.’
‘She seems nice to me,’ said Rosa. ‘A little eccentric, but fun.’
‘I won’t have you going up there, do you hear!’
‘You can’t stop me, Mamma. I’m twenty-six. And anyway, what harm will it do? Romina’s invited me with the children. They have a swimming pool.’
‘I bet they do,’ Alba interjected angrily. ‘For all their guests.’
Rosa narrowed her eyes. ‘Is it the guests you’re worried about, or the fact that she’s rebuilt the ruin?’
‘I don’t know.’ Alba didn’t want to discuss it any further. ‘You can go up there if you must, but I’ll never set foot in that evil place again.’
20
The day after his dinner date with Cosima, Luca spent the morning in the pool with the children. Coco now threw herself into the water without inhibition, diving off her father’s shoulders with a cry of delight. Little by little she gave way to the child in her. Her happiness was infectious as she settled back into the size of her skin.
At eleven, inspired by the desire to give Cosima something special, Luca set out to find the woman with the lemon farm. He remembered her name: Manfreda. So, he asked at the hotel in the square and was given directions. The farm was called La Marmella.
He drove along the same winding road he had travelled the evening before with Cosima, smiling as he envisaged handing her a basket of lemons and watching the surprise on her face. He didn’t worry about Rosa finding out. When she saw how in love they were, she’d understand. He had only flirted with her mildly and, anyway, she was married.
After a few miles he reached the lemon grove on the hillside. The slope was planted with row upon row of trees, their rich green leaves shimmering beneath the midday sun. He turned into a drive lined with ancient plane trees, and drove across the shadows to the house at the end.
La Marmella was a charming Italian farm house made of sand-coloured stone with a weathered, pink-tiled roof and peeling yellow shutters. The façade was adorned with rampaging bougainvillea among whose little red flowers swarmed butterflies and bees. He parked in front of the house and pulled on a long iron pole to ring the bell inside. After a while he heard the scuffle of feet, the unbolting of locks and finally a small, scruffy little woman appeared. She was as delicate as a bird; her watery blue eyes alert.
‘Hello, my name is Luca Chancellor, I’m a friend of Cosima . . .’