The Italian Matchmaker(90)

‘You’re drunk.’

‘I haven’t drunk a drop. I’m just happy!’ She smiled secretively.

‘What have you to be so happy about when your husband lies alone in bed and your children . . . ?’

‘They never wake up in the night.’

‘There’s always a chance they will, and then what? Eugenio will wonder where you are.’

‘I walk at night all the time.’ She leaned against the sideboard and folded her arms. ‘I love to walk in the dark, along the cliffs, down on the beach by the sea. It makes me happy, Mamma. It gets me out of this claustrophobic house. Allows me to breathe. Tonight was special though. I’m happier than I have ever been. In fact, I never thought I could be so happy.’

Alba’s face darkened. ‘Who have you been with?’

‘No one. Spirits.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘I’ve been with spirits. Ghosts.’ She shook her head as if her mother was too stupid to understand. ‘Don’t worry. I’m being silly. I’m tired now. If you don’t mind I’ll go to bed.’

‘Don’t let Eugenio catch you creeping out in the middle of the night.’

‘He sleeps like a log.’

‘Well, one of these days the log might just wake up and then you’ll be in trouble.’

‘I know how to deal with my husband. Men are all the same.’

Alba watched her daughter’s insouciance with concern. ‘The trouble with you, Rosa, is that you don’t appreciate what you have.’

‘How would you know? You never ask. It’s always Cosima, Cosima, Cosima. I can’t remember the last time you actually asked me how I was. But it doesn’t matter.’ She walked towards the stairs. ‘By the way, Cosima and Luca are lovers.’

‘I know.’

‘Of course you do. You two are as thick as thieves.’ She began to climb the stairs, leaving Alba smouldering with fury.

‘Whatever you may think, I’m your mother and this is my house. Try looking past your own nose, Rosa. You always have been selfish!’

Rosa wanted to slam the bathroom door behind her, but she didn’t want to wake Eugenio. She put her hands on the basin and inhaled, flaring her nostrils with anger. How dare her mother talk to her like that? She wasn’t selfish. She just wanted to be the centre of her mother’s world. Surely, as a daughter, that was her right? But Cosima occupied that place and had done ever since Francesco drowned. She stared at her face in the mirror and saw Valentina staring right back at her.

Now the likelihood was that Cosima would move to England with Luca. Well, she was welcome to him. Rosa no longer needed Luca to take her away; tonight, she had discovered that everything she needed was right here in Incantellaria and always had been.

Once again she climbed into bed believing her husband lay sleeping, trusting that he could not have heard her conversation with her mother. Once again Eugenio’s heart spilled a little more blood.

The following morning was Sunday. Rosa hummed the entire way through breakfast, a secretive smile on her face, while Cosima ate in silence, clinging on to Francesco with all her senses. Panfilo went to Mass with Toto, Beata, Rosa, Eugenio, the children and their cousins, leaving Alba at home with Cosima, who had made plans to see Luca.

Panfilo had kissed his wife tenderly, advising her to ignore the row with Rosa.

‘Can’t imagine where she gets it from,’ he had laughed, the lines deepening into his handsome face.

‘I’ve mellowed over the years,’ Alba had said, reluctantly smiling back.

‘And so will Rosa. She’s young and spirited. We’ll talk about it later, but perhaps she needs her own home.’

‘On a policeman’s salary?’

‘No, on mine!’

The truth was Alba didn’t want Rosa and Eugenio to move out. Whenever it had been mentioned she had thought of every possible excuse to prevent it. She had told them to wait until they had enough money to buy a nice big place. When Panfilo had suggested helping them financially, she had told him his offer would damage Eugenio’s pride. Anyway, wasn’t it convenient to have a babysitter on tap? Three children was a handful, but with their grandmother around the load became a great deal lighter. It was part of Italian culture for families to live together. That’s the way Immacolata had lived and they had followed her example. Secretly, Alba feared the place would be lonely without them, especially with Panfilo away so much of the time. They were part of the fabric of the place and she cherished their company. She adored the children, took pleasure from reading them stories every night, tucking them into bed. She loved watching them playing in the olive grove.