Watching Lara was like looking at Sudoku without any numbers in the grid. I knew there was a puzzle to solve but I was damned if I could see where to start. Massimo was so open and friendly, whereas Lara always gave the impression she was trying not to deplete her daily word count. I’d hate to be so riddled with insecurities that I couldn’t even be honest with my own husband. Though it was unlikely Sam was going to meet a sticky end because I was too absorbed in housework. Sewing maybe, but dusting and hoovering, definitely not.
They were a funny lot, these Farinellis.
14
MAGGIE
Even without the prospect of Anna and Massimo coming over to discuss holiday plans for the ‘Farinelli fortnight’, the evening had got off to a bad start. Francesca had made some jewellery in her design class at school and wanted the gold box to display it in.
I hesitated. ‘Not quite sure where I put it. I think it’s too valuable to take to school anyway.’
She stood there, hands on her hips, with that teenage expectation that I’d immediately rush to look for it. To be fair, whenever Francesca showed any signs of wanting anything from me, I did hop to it. She probably couldn’t understand why I carried on peeling potatoes, when normally I’d fling down the knife and run around like a wind-up toy, so grateful for the little promise of connection.
I couldn’t think how to put her off. ‘Just let me finish making dinner and then I’ll see if I can find it.’ With every slice of the knife, my mind darted about, wondering what to do for the best. Tell her I’d accidentally thrown it away? Mislaid it? Chuck out all the keepsakes and mementoes and press the padded cushion tight into the box and hope she’d never find the inscription?
We’d had a couple of months of relative peace. Francesca wasn’t yet rushing to hug me goodnight but sometimes she sat on a stool in the kitchen even when Nico was still at work and told me about something that had happened at school or showed me a YouTube video she found funny. But at least the stomping about slamming doors seemed to be a thing of the past and I was determined that the disappearance of a bloody box wasn’t going to screw that up for me.
I was still scrabbling round for a solution when Anna and Massimo rang the bell. Long before we got married, when I was still waiting for Nico to discover that although I made him laugh, I wasn’t a ‘keeper’, he’d spoken about the family tradition of taking over the same castle in the Tuscan countryside for the first two weeks of August every year. I’d envied him. That closeness, the lively dinners under the stars, the banter bouncing between the sun loungers, the raucous races in the swimming pool. I’d felt ashamed of my fleeting comparison with the four days Mum, Sam and I had managed two years ago, in a caravan on the Isle of Sheppey, sleeping in beds barely wider than a shelf, turning on the gas hob to keep warm.
Now though, the prospect of being cooped up under Anna’s microscope for fourteen whole days filled me with dread. She sat on the settee, queen buzzy bee holding court about how we’d take turns cooking, shopping, supervising the kids in the pool. ‘And someone is going to have to mop that kitchen floor every day. Last year it was disgusting with everyone paddling in and out with wet feet.’
‘Nico, you’ll have to go shopping with Maggie. It’s a shame she doesn’t speak Italian like Caitlin did. Lara can manage, she’s picked up the basics fairly well over the years.’
Nico put out his hand to squeeze mine. ‘Give Maggie a chance, Mum. She’s never been to Italy before. Everyone else has been going for years.’ He sighed. ‘Anyway, I’m looking forward to sharing all the chores with Maggie.’
He turned to me. ‘Food shopping in Italy is great fun, all that fresh basil and tomatoes you can smell the sun on. We always buy a big wheel of Parmesan to hack our way through. Can’t wait to show you around.’
I loved Nico for defending me. I tried to offset my deadwood status by offering to get busy with the mop on a daily basis. Perhaps I could balance out my lack of linguistic ability with my Vileda skills. And at least I wouldn’t have to make small talk with my mother-in-law round the pool while I was Cinderella-ing inside.
A flash of frustration passed over Anna’s face as though her little dig at me had missed its bull’s eye.
Nico smiled and went off to fetch some wine.
Massimo winked at me. ‘You’ll have a brilliant time, Maggie. All the surrounding villages have little fiestas and open-air concerts in the evenings. We’ll have to take you up on the castle ramparts. You can see for miles across the vineyards and fields of sunflowers. Sandro will love having Sam to play with in the pool. We’ll organise some swimming competitions.’