The Italian Matchmaker(74)

‘I’ve got two small-bottomed English girls who keep me firmly on my feet most of the time!’ She laughed and Luca sensed her relaxing.

‘We left Barbados early. We got back this morning. I’m longing to see the girls. I’ve really missed them.’

‘They’ve missed you too. But don’t worry about them. It’s important for you and John to spend time together. They’re not his children and I’m sure he wants you to himself.’

‘He adores them,’ she snapped, suddenly suspicious.

‘I’m sure he does. I’m only saying you need time for you. I’m really keen to have them back as soon as they break up. I’ve really enjoyed them. I’ll miss them when they go.’ He thought of leaving them at the airport and realised that he meant it. ‘I think I hear them. Hold on.’ Sure enough, they were coming in from an early swim with Sammy, their hair falling in long wet tendrils down their backs. ‘Hi, girls. Guess who’s on the telephone?’

‘Mummy!’ Juno shouted, breaking away from Sammy and Coco.

‘I’ll pass you over, Claire.’

Cosima walked up to the old lookout point and gazed out across the familiar stretch of ocean. It never looked the same. The light was always changing, subtly transforming the water with a spectrum of different shades. This morning the sky was cerulean, the sun a dazzling gold. The bright rays of light caught the waves as they rippled and rose, adorning their tips with diamonds. She was finally able to look at the sea without her stomach twisting with grief. She’d never get over losing Francesco – that kind of loss cuts a deep and lasting wound – but she’d find a way of living with it.

She thought of her night of love with Luca. Once hadn’t been enough. They had enjoyed each other until their bodies ached with exhaustion and they lay like sated lions, bathed in the warm afterglow of love. The only thing barring her total happiness was guilt: guilt about Francesco; guilt about Rosa who watched her suspiciously, as if her pretty dresses and smile were an affront; guilt about being cheerful in the wake of such tragedy. In the dark hours of night she felt she didn’t deserve to be loved. In the fresh light of day, she was flooded with fortitude. Life was for living. Francesco would want her to be happy. As Alba had told her, it took more courage to live.

Back at the palazzo, Romina was in a state of excitement at the arrival from London of the journalist from the Sunday Times magazine. After having spent half an hour deliberating what sort of image she wanted to project, she emerged on the terrace in a long green and purple Pucci kaftan over white trousers and gold sandals. She had scraped her hair off her face, holding it fast with a long white scarf that accentuated her bright eyes and the lively lines on her skin. She stepped through the French doors in a cloud of tuberose.

Ma, Caradoc, Dennis and Nanni were enjoying a late breakfast on the terrace. Juno and Coco were busy drawing with the artists’ paper and crayons their grandmother had bought them, while Porci lay beside them grunting with pleasure. Much to Nanni’s relief, Sammy was covered up in a white T-shirt over pink shorts, although the sight of her young brown thighs was enough to make him twitch with anxiety.

‘Good morning, all.’ Romina floated up to them like a giant butterfly. ‘Where’s my son?’

‘Gone to have breakfast in town,’ said Ma. ‘He’s been very elusive lately. Must be a local stray he’s picked up.’

‘Pas devant . . .’ said Romina, glancing at the children. ‘I hope he hasn’t forgotten about the folly. Dennis, be a darling and go and check it later, will you? The journalist from the Sunday Times magazine is coming today and I don’t want any nasty surprises. I hope he left the key with Ventura as I asked. Really, ever since Luca arrived he’s been very distracted.’

‘He’s a young man, Romina,’ said Caradoc in Luca’s defence. ‘Let him pick the juicy peach from the tree. He deserves to have some fun.’

‘Of course he does. But he’s promised to find the intruder.’

‘For us to string up and roast on a spit,’ Ma added.

‘If she’s a pretty girl . . .’ interjected the professor.

‘Then we’ll sacrifice her to Luca,’ said Nanni with a chuckle.

‘That’ll be far too good for her,’ said Ma. ‘We don’t want to reward her for her intrusion.’

‘And all the stress she’s given me,’ Romina added with a sniff.

‘Haven’t the police done anything to help?’ said Caradoc.

‘Of course not! They prance around with gold epaulettes and suntans looking very dashing, but they’re as useful as shop dummies.’