“You’ve grown up.” He laughed, kissing her cheek. “Where’s your crazy little friend?”
The countess bristled. “Hello, Dante, what a divine party.”
“I’m glad you could come, Contessa.” He took her hand and kissed it formally.
“Costanza has been seeing a great deal of your sister Giovanna,” she continued. “They’re intimate friends, aren’t you, darling? They write to each other all winter when Giovanna’s at school in Milan.”
“Is Floriana here?” He raised his eyes and swept them over the guests who now mingled in the candlelit garden.
Costanza hesitated, knowing her mother would not want her to speak of Floriana. “No, she isn’t,” she said carefully.
Dante was surprised by the force of his disappointment.
“I don’t know what she’s up to these days,” the countess continued with a smile. “Dear little local girl. You know how things are, all very well playing with those sort of people when one’s little, but now Costanza is a young lady, it’s only right that she mixes with her own sort.” She gave a little sniff.
“I see,” said Dante. “Well, it’s good of you to come. I hope you enjoy the rest of the party.” And he went back to join his friends. However, his thoughts were drawn away from their conversation to the point in the wall where Floriana used to climb up and spy.
Struck by the silliest idea, he strode into the house to get Good-Night. The dog was lying asleep in the kitchen. He whistled for him, and Good-Night, always eager to be part of an adventure, trotted happily into the park at his side. The music had started, and guests were beginning to move onto the dance floor. Some wandered around the gardens; others sat at tables and chairs now placed on the terrace, to drink coffee and talk where it was quieter. The sky was bright with stars, the moon bathing the earth in a soft, silver light. Dante was tired of talking to endless people, bored of having to play the role of hero when he felt he had done nothing that hadn’t been done by so many others, a million times before. But his father liked to make a fuss. He enjoyed the fanfare and relished any excuse to beat his chest and show everyone how rich and important he was. He expected a great deal from his son, but most of all he wanted to be a proud father, because to Beppe, face was everything—hadn’t he earned it? Every lira?
As he approached the wall Dante’s stomach began to twist with anxiety. The ghost of the little girl danced before his eyes, silhouetted against the night. He felt his throat tighten and wondered why he felt such a crippling sense of loss.
Distracted by something at the wall, Good-Night bounded off. Dante saw a shadow move, like a cat catching the light before jumping lithely down. But it wasn’t a cat. As he got nearer, he saw that it was a beautiful young woman.
“Floriana? Is that you?”
“Dante,” she said in a low voice. Good-Night rushed at her excitedly. She laughed and ran her hands over his ears.
Dante watched in astonishment as she bent down to caress the dog as if she wasn’t at all surprised to see him. For a moment he was too stunned to speak. “He’s happy to see you,” he said at last.
“He’s always happy to see me. He’s my dearest friend.”
“So, you did look after him while I was away?”
“Of course, we’re almost inseparable.” She grinned up at him, and he was struck by how lovely she looked in the moonlight. “I knew you were back today because he didn’t come to see me.”
“So he runs off to find you, does he?”
“He’s very clever.”
“Because he’s a stray. They’re more streetwise than those who are raised at home.”
He watched her closely as she stood up and smoothed down her dress. Her body had lost the straight lines of girlhood and expanded into gentle curves. He was surprised to see that she had breasts and a little waist. Five years had transformed the grubby child into an arresting young woman, and he felt his heart inflate with wonder.
“Have you tired of your party already?” she asked, and the twinkle in her eyes was so familiar to him.
“I sensed we were being spied on. I came to check our defenses.”
“You remembered the weak spot in the wall, then?”
“And the insurgent who knows how to climb in.”
“So what do you do when you catch one of these insurgents?”
He rubbed his chin and considered his answer. “I take her prisoner.”
Floriana’s heart thumped against her rib cage. “I think she’s more cunning than you give her credit for.”
“I suppose you may be right. If she’s a stray like Good-Night, then she’ll most certainly outwit a home boy like me.”