The Silent Wife(32)

‘What does Massimo say? Is he worried about how Lupo behaves?’

Lara smiled. ‘Lupo’s always as good as gold for Massimo. The dog’s fine really, just gets a bit overexcited sometimes when Sandro winds him up.’

‘Lara, I was watching out of the window.’ I paused, realising how weirdy stalker/nosey neighbour that sounded. ‘Only because I heard the barking. Anyway, Sandro wasn’t teasing Lupo. He was just minding his own business. You saw the dog, he wasn’t playing, he was being really aggressive. Even you were frightened of him.’

‘That’s because I’m not very good with dogs. I was bitten as a child,’ she said, showing me a jagged scar on her right hand. ‘I prefer cats, but when Misty went missing, we decided a dog would be more of a family pet. Lupo will be fine if we just show him who’s boss.’

I stared at her. This was the woman who spent half her life faffing about with exact tomato/cucumber/red pepper ratios for her son, serving up mackerel for the omega-3 ‘essential for your brain, Sandro’ and brazil nuts for selenium, whatever that did, but seemed far less concerned about the possibility of the dog making off down the garden with a juicy selection of her son’s limbs.

Lara started bustling about, wiping down an already immaculate table and work surfaces. ‘Anyway, sorry for interrupting your afternoon with our nonsense. I know how busy you are with all your sewing.’

There was definite dismissal in her tone. She’d reverted to her old self, a bit frosty and reserved. I wondered if she thought I was judging her for being upstairs cleaning instead of supervising her son in the garden.

I tried again. ‘As you say, no harm done. You can’t be watching Sandro every minute of the day, can you? Would you like me to teach him how to become a bit more confident with the dog? My mother had a right nightmare of a Jack Russell when I was in my teens. We just had to show it where it was in the pecking order and it soon toed the line.’

Lara looked round from her polishing of the cupboard door handles in a manner that suggested there were multiple carriers of E.coli in the house. Everything about her seemed dazed, as though I’d asked her to multiply a few fractions and give me the answer as a percentage of 319. I liked her better when she was F-ing and blinding rather than showcasing her talent for exterminating kitchen bacteria. She nodded slowly but didn’t say anything.

I ploughed on. ‘Lupo needs to learn that he’s not as important in the hierarchy as Sandro.’ I started to outline how Sandro needed to feed him, walk through the door before him, train him to the whistle and establish himself as the superior ‘dog’ in the pack.

‘Would you really do that?’ Lara always sounded as though her expectations of life were only visible with the help of a microscope, when as far as I could see, apart from a son who needed a bit of a confidence boost, there wasn’t a lot wrong. I had to work hard not to wish Nico paid me as much attention as Massimo did Lara. A kiss on her head, a stroke of her hand, ‘Coffee/tea/a drink, darling?’ They were more like newly-weds than we were.

‘Of course. In fact, I’ll get Sam to come round with me tonight when he gets home from football training and we can make a bit of a game of it. Probably a good idea to start as soon as possible before Sandro has time to dwell on what happened today.’

‘No! You can’t come tonight.’

I must have looked pretty pissed off at the force of her answer – after all, if it had been left to her to ride to the rescue, Sandro would still be shaking in his shoes at the top of the tree house.

‘Sorry, it’s just that Massimo is coming home early today and he likes to spend a bit of time on his own with Sandro. He’s very good like that, puts a lot of store by quality time.’

I resisted the temptation to say, ‘I’ll let you get back to your hoovering then.’ Instead, I did a ‘That’s fine, no worries at all. Just let me know when it’s convenient and I’ll pop round. Anyway, you go and check on Sandro and I’ll see myself out.’ None of my other friends gave me time slots like Lara. In fact, whenever I had a girls’ night out, there was always an outcry if I tried to leave before midnight.

I was just stomping home along the street, muttering ‘Ungrateful cow’, as Massimo was drew up in his car.

He jumped out and swept me into a hug. ‘How’s my gorgeous sister-in-law? Come in for a coffee. We’re popping round to yours later to discuss our summer holiday but I want to hear how you’re getting on without that brother of mine monopolising you.’

I hesitated, not wanting to appear rude but pretty sure Lara wouldn’t want to see me again quite so soon. I tried to tell him that I’d just come from his house but he was having none of it. Lara must have been watching out of the window because she suddenly appeared at the door. Massimo ran up the steps and gave her a kiss on the lips, so lingering that I found myself pulling the face Sam did when we watched romantic comedies on telly. Nico was much less flamboyant than Massimo in that way, thank God. Though I had a twinge of envy that they were still so passionate about each other ten years on. From what Nico had told me, everyone had thought Massimo’s relationship with Lara wouldn’t last, a cliché of a senior partner at work taking advantage of an inexperienced junior. To me, he still seemed besotted with her.