‘Oh, sandwiches that Ventura made us. Biscuits. Pencils and paper. I’m going to draw you a picture on the plane.’
‘I’d like that,’ he said.
‘I’m going to draw you one too!’ Juno added, not to be outdone.
‘I’m going to draw the palazzo with Granny and Grandpa waving goodbye.’
‘I’m going to draw you as the naughty crocodile!’ Juno giggled. ‘With big white teeth and a long scaly tail.’
‘Get Mummy to send them out. I’ll put them up in my bedroom.’
‘Can we come back soon?’ Coco asked.
‘As soon as you break up for the holidays.’
‘You promise?’
‘I promise.’ He drew her into his arms. ‘I’ll be waiting for you.’
22
Luca waved until the children were out of sight then walked slowly back to the car, a heaviness descending on him like cloud. He had grown accustomed to the sound of their voices, the feel of their small hands in his, their arms winding around his legs, their expectant faces smiling up at him. He fought off a wave of homesickness with thoughts of Cosima. He parked in the city and set about buying her a mobile telephone. This was a suitable distraction and soon his spirits lifted as her gentle expression broke through the cloud like sunshine. On his way back to the car he passed a jewellery shop and went inside.
At the sound of the taxi scrunching to a halt on the gravel outside, Romina swept through the grand entrance of the palazzo to greet the journalist. Porci, ignorant of the significance of this monumental event, trotted past her to sniff the tyres. If he were a dog he would have cocked his leg to show supremacy but, as he was only a little pig, he simply grunted and trotted on to roll down the grassy slope beyond.
The journalist did a double take at the sight of him, clad in his white nappy, and leaned closer to the window to get a better look. Romina couldn’t contain her impatience. ‘Don’t be alarmed by Porci. He doesn’t bite,’ she said, smiling into the car.
‘Extraordinary,’ said the woman, gathering her enormous black leather handbag and shuffling across the seat. She had a chiselled, pale face with a deep red bob, square-cut like a spade. ‘Wow, this is quite a palace!’ As she stepped out of the car, Romina’s eyes fell on her red fishnet tights, short denim skirt and black leather boots, and she recoiled.
‘My dear, you’re going to get very hot in those!’
‘It was cold in London. I’ve got lighter clothes in my case.’
‘I’m very glad to hear it. I’m Romina, your hostess.’ She extended her hand formally.
‘Fiyona Pritchett,’ Fiyona replied, her scarlet lips curling into a smile. ‘Fiyona with a “y”.’
‘Hello Fiyona with a “y”. At last! Well, let’s not stand out here dying of thirst.’ Fiyona lifted her suitcase. ‘No, no! Let the men do some work. I’ll tell Ventura to get one of the boys to take it to your room.’
‘Is it okay out here?’
‘Well, I don’t think Porci’s going to run off with it!’
Fiyona followed her through the house to the terrace, gazing around her in fascination. ‘This really is a stunning place,’ she said.
‘I know. Aren’t we the luckiest people in the whole world? It was nothing but a ruin when we found it. Grass growing in the rooms, ivy climbing up the walls, animals making their homes in the pieces of furniture left behind. It was a terrible mess.’
‘Has it been photographed yet?’
‘No. Monday.’
‘Good. I gather it has a bloody history.’
‘A very dark history.’
‘I’d like to talk to some of the locals.’
‘Do you speak Italian?’
‘Yes, that’s why they sent me. I read French and Italian at university. Long time ago now, but I practise whenever I can.’
‘My son will take you into town. He is the one mingling with the locals.’ She raised her eyebrows suggestively. ‘Recently divorced, I think he’s making up for lost time.’
‘He’s just quit the City too, hasn’t he?’
Romina was surprised. ‘You know about Luca?’
‘I’ve done my research.’
Outside, Caradoc, Nanni, Dennis and Ma were engrossed in a game of bridge. Romina introduced them before taking Fiyona to the table to offer her refreshment.
‘I have Earl Grey or coffee,’ she said.
‘Coffee please, strong.’
Romina watched her with a growing sense of disappointment. Fiyona wasn’t at all what she had expected. She was tough – clearly from a lower social stratum – and she wasn’t pretty, though she was undoubtedly striking; her skin was translucent and her eyes an unlikely shade of green. Romina suspected she wore tinted contact lenses.