The Italian Matchmaker (16 page)

‘What decent man would watch a woman walk into the sea and not try to save her?’

‘It was none of his business.’

Rosa decided to take a gamble. ‘He said a little boy ran into the church and cried for help.’

‘So?’

‘He said he carried a feather.’

‘A feather?’ Cosima looked at her at last, eyes glittering.

‘A feather.’

‘Who was he?’

‘No one else saw him.’

‘You’re lying!’ Cosima’s cheeks flushed. ‘He’s lying!’

‘Ask him yourself.’

‘I don’t want to see him.’

‘Then you’ll never know.’

‘It’s impossible.’

But Rosa could see she was curious. Her heart began to race at the prospect of being the one to lure her cousin out of her mourning. ‘Fine. Whatever you want, Cosima. But if I were you, I’d want to know.’ She left the room, passing Toto on his way up.

‘How is she?’

Rosa shrugged. ‘I think she’ll be getting up soon.’

Luca was in his usual spot by the pool when his mother appeared in a fluster. ‘Good God!’ she exclaimed dramatically. ‘Someone’s been in the folly again! Your father swears it isn’t him. Didn’t you say you heard footsteps there last night?’

‘I was joking, Mother,’ he replied, recalling the rabbit.

‘Well, it’s no joke. There really was someone there last night. The bed has been slept in again!’

‘Why don’t you change the lock?’

‘Ghosts can walk through walls.’

‘I didn’t think you believed in ghosts.’ He got up to help her to a chair.

‘Maybe I’m wrong about that,’ she hissed, in case anyone should overhear. She never liked to admit she was wrong. ‘Your grandmother used to see them all the time. I’d find her deep in conversation with herself, but she’d insist she was talking to spirits. She’d lay extra places at the table for her dead relations. Nanni thought it was funny; I thought it was sad. My mother thought it the most natural thing in the world. I resented her for her madness. But was I wrong?’

‘You’re not wrong. You’re a sane, intelligent woman. Ventura is a superstitious peasant. As for your guests, they’re enjoying the idea of the ghost, but none of them really believes. There are no such things.’

Even, as the words came out, he knew he was lying. He thought of the little boy in the church and the people who used to appear to him in the night as a child. Buried deep in the hidden recesses of his heart was the knowledge that there was more than this three-dimensional world. ‘We’ll get to the bottom of this, Mother. Trust me, the person lurking around the folly is made of denser stuff than Ventura’s ghosts!’

 

That afternoon Caradoc invited him into town for a coffee. ‘I’d like another look at that delightful girl,’ he explained, meaning Rosa. ‘Girls like her keep old men’s dreams alive.’

‘You’re not going without me!’ said Ma, catching them in the hall. ‘Or have you forgotten our shared adventure?’

‘Certainly not, dear lady. We are now linked for ever. Luca is coming too.’

‘Dizzy is on the telephone to a long-suffering friend,’ she grumbled. ‘A good moment to escape. I can’t tolerate listening to her gushing.’ She looked at Luca. ‘Ah, yes, the translator. I’m getting a sense of
déjà vu
.’

‘I hope not,’ he replied. ‘I don’t fancy wading out into the sea again.’

Ma arranged her red hat in the mirror. It was made of straw and decorated with brightly painted wooden fruit. She liked to keep the sun off her pale skin.

‘I’d avoid the harbour then if I were you. If she’s intent on drowning, nothing will stop her.’ She grinned at him through the mirror, her face transformed by her elusive smile. ‘Well, maybe you can. Men don’t come more handsome. Italy is doing you good, Luca.’

‘Ah, Luca,’ said Caradoc. ‘I was handsome once but age is a great leveller.
The flowers anew, returning seasons bring! But beauty faded has no second spring
. Enjoy it while you have it, young man.’ They went out into the dazzling sunshine.

They borrowed Romina’s car again, but this time Ma squeezed into the back where she could spread herself across the entire seat. Inside, it smelled of hot leather. Caradoc wound down the window to let in the breeze, lifting his nose like a dog. As the car hummed down the hill Luca felt his spirits rise in the company of these two most unlikely friends. How different this life was, and how different he was beginning to feel.

They arrived at the
trattoria
and chose a table on the terrace overlooking the harbour. Boats came and went, children played on the quay, a bony dog trotted along the pavement until he spotted a black cat lurking in the shadows and made chase. A pair of old men in caps sat arguing about the game of
scopa
they had played the night before.

Ma took a while to choose a chair in the shade and Caradoc nearly tripped over his own feet when Rosa emerged in her scarlet dress. She greeted them warmly and waited for them all to sit down. Luca hoped she wouldn’t mention his ‘heroism’ again. It was an episode he would rather forget.

Rosa addressed the professor. ‘So, coffee for you,
signore
?’ Her voice was sweet as chocolate.

Caradoc beamed. ‘You remember?’

‘Of course. How could I forget?’

‘Black coffee,’ he said. ‘And something sweet. You choose, I’m sure you will find me something special.’

‘Shame on you, Professor,’ said Ma disapprovingly. ‘You’re a silly old man.’

‘The day I stop being a silly old man, I will simply be an old man, and a sad old man at that.’

Ma snorted. ‘I’ll have a nice cup of Earl Grey tea, with a little honey and milk on the side.’ She expected the girl to shrug in that infuriating Italian way and declare that they didn’t stock such a thing, but she nodded agreeably and turned to Luca.

‘Coffee with milk on the side, piping hot?’ she asked with a flirtatious smile.

‘Thank you.’

Rosa’s eyes lingered a little longer than was proper for a married woman. ‘Can I get you anything sweet?’

‘Yes,’ interjected Ma stridently. ‘We’ll have whatever the professor has.’ Rosa disappeared inside and Luca breathed a sigh of relief that she hadn’t mentioned her cousin.

‘Pretty girl!’ said Caradoc with a sigh. ‘If I were your age, Luca, I’d bed a succulent Italian girl like Rosa. They’re like ripe fruit, ready to be picked and tasted.’

‘Good God, Professor!’ snapped Ma. ‘What’s got into you?’

‘It must be the heat.’

‘It’s Incantellaria,’ Caradoc corrected. ‘I feel twenty years younger.’

‘Well, it hasn’t had that effect on me,’ said Ma. ‘I’ve never rated sex that much. I can’t bear a man clambering all over me, heavy breathing and fumbling about. There are so many better things to do with one’s time.’

The professor looked crestfallen. ‘How about you, Luca?’

‘I agree with you, Professor. The heat does turn one’s thoughts to girls.’

‘But divorce has the effect of a cold shower, I should imagine,’ said Ma. She patted his hand. ‘You’ll have better luck next time. You’re young and foolish enough to give marriage another go. I’d find a nice Italian girl to look after you.’

‘Like Rosa,’ said Caradoc.

‘Not like Rosa,’ said Ma sternly. ‘If I were her husband I wouldn’t trust her as far as I could throw her. She’s got a mischievous glint in her eye that’s nothing but trouble. Mark my words, she’s a handful.’

Rosa returned with their drinks and three slices of lemon cake. ‘My grandmother’s recipe,’ she said. ‘It melts in your mouth.’

‘Like a succulent fruit,’ said Caradoc, gazing up in adoration. Luca saw from the intent look on her face that she was about to mention Cosima.

‘My parents would like to thank you properly for saving Cosima.’

‘There’s no need.’

Her face fell with disappointment.

‘You must all be going through a difficult time,’ he added. ‘I would hate to impose.’

‘Impose? If you hadn’t been so brave she would have drowned. It’s the very least we can do. Besides, Cosima would like to thank you herself.’

‘You’d better go,’ said Ma. ‘If only to ensure the poor girl doesn’t try to drown herself again.’

‘Now’s no time for modesty,’ cajoled Caradoc. ‘If you play the hero you should accept gratitude with grace.’

‘Please,’ Rosa begged. ‘You’re the first ray of light she has had in such a long time. She just wants to say thank you. We all do.’

‘Then I would be delighted,’ Luca conceded, despite his apprehension.

‘Good. Come tonight at seven and I will escort you myself. It is not easy to find the house and I’m no good at giving directions. You can drive me home. Everyone will be so happy!’ she gushed, clapping her hands. No one would be happier than Rosa.

‘Now that smile is worth a million gold pieces,’ said Caradoc, watching her bottom as she went to another table to take orders. ‘Do you want me to come with you?’

‘No, I’ll go alone,’ said Luca. ‘I’m a big boy.’

That evening Cosima waited with her family on the terrace beneath the vine. Curiosity had got the better of her as Rosa had predicted. Beata sat with Toto and Alba while Panfilo chased the children around the olive trees with his dog, provoking squeals of delight. The children were oblivious of the tension in the air as the adults waited for Rosa and Luca to appear.

Finally, the rumble of a car signalled their arrival. Alba went around the house to greet them, while Cosima remained very still, not knowing how to handle the situation. She resented him so for having thwarted her plans, and yet, there was a spark of hope in her heart on account of the boy with the feather.

Alba watched Rosa descend the hill with Luca. He was very tall and broad in his jeans and open-necked blue shirt. The sun had tanned his skin brown and his hair was thick and dark. His eyes were as bright as cornflowers. She greeted him warmly, disguising the trepidation she felt at his connection with the
palazzo
.

‘Welcome.’ She extended her hand. Luca recognised her as the woman holding the candle at the Festa di Santa Benedetta. ‘You’re so good to come. I’m Alba, Rosa’s mother. Cosima is my niece.’

‘I only did what anyone else would have done,’ he replied humbly.

‘Come. Everyone is waiting on the terrace. Rosa will bring you a
prosecco
.’

Rosa went into the house, her walk more of a dance, confident that Luca was watching her. She had put her hair up to show the pretty curve of her neck and applied more make-up, the red of her lips matching the red of her nails. If only she had some real diamonds to hang from her ear lobes.

The house was pretty – a sandy stone farmhouse with a grey tiled roof. The windows were framed by blue-grey shutters and protected with elaborate iron bars from which hung small pots of red geraniums. Surrounded by inky green cypress trees and large urns of lilies, it possessed a peaceful charm. Luca followed Alba around the corner, his heart accelerating as he, too, wondered how to deal with the situation. Make it brief and get out as fast as possible without causing offence, he thought.

Alba introduced him to the family one by one, leaving Cosima to the end. Her face was in plain view, no longer hidden by the black veil. He shook her hand but she refused to meet his eyes. Her lips were very pale, her cheekbones prominent, her skin almost translucent. She wasn’t classically beautiful, but her features had a haunted quality that caused his heart to stall.

‘Sit down,’ said Panfilo, pulling out a chair. ‘It’s good of you to come.’

Rosa handed Luca a glass, enveloping him in a cloud of perfume. They all watched expectantly. He gulped his drink, paralysed by embarrassment. What does one say to a woman who’s tried to commit suicide?

‘So, how is it up at the
palazzo
?’ Toto broke the ice.

Alba bristled but she repressed her feelings for Cosima’s sake.

‘It’s splendid,’ said Luca. ‘It’s got the most magnificent view.’

‘Apparently the old
Marchese
used to spy on the village with a telescope,’ said Rosa mischievously.

Luca grinned, grateful to her for lightening the atmosphere. ‘I must get one then. He was obviously on to something!’

‘You know, Panfilo is going to photograph it for the
Sunday Times
.’

Luca had quite forgotten the name of the famous photographer his mother had mentioned so gleefully. ‘Of course. My mother has told me all about you. She says you are the best in Italy.’

‘She flatters me,’ said Panfilo with a shrug.

‘No, she doesn’t,’ protested Alba. ‘She’s right. You
are
the best in Italy.’

‘She’s thrilled to be able to show it off. It was a ruin when they bought it.’

Alba was unable to contain her curiosity. ‘Why
did
they buy it?’

‘My father’s an architect, my mother paints interiors. They are both retired. It’s been a project for them both. My mother fell in love with the
palazzo
on sight. My father found it a great challenge. Now they hold court like a medieval king and queen, though I’m not sure where they pick up some of their guests. They are not all to my taste.’

Luca was aware that he was talking to Valentina’s daughter, the same Valentina who was murdered on the road to Naples, whose brother took revenge on the
Marchese
. His curiosity was fired. He took another gulp of
prosecco
and felt the pleasurable loosening of limbs as it lightened his senses.

Conversation continued as the sun descended, casting long shadows across the grass. Cosima watched him warily, her eyes full of suspicion. The rest of her family compensated for her hostility with a slick routine they had been practising for three years. Perhaps they weren’t even aware of covering up for her. Cosima’s moodiness was as much part of their home as the shadows.