The Italian Matchmaker (39 page)

‘Well, he didn’t want me enough to follow me out here. It’s his fault. No one asked him to marry Rosemary.’

‘But you have Panfilo. You got what you deserved, Alba: the best.’

Alba went upstairs and took a shower. Memories rained down with the water and she began humming, taking pleasure from mental pictures she hadn’t looked at in so many years. She remembered her houseboat on Cheyne Walk and her favourite pair of blue suede clog boots she had bought from Biba. She remembered the goat she had tethered to the roof of Viv’s boat, to eat the grass and flowers she had planted there, and imagined her old friend’s horrified face when she discovered it. She wondered where Viv was now and whether anyone bothered reading her books any more. She had been a very different person then.

She finished showering and rubbed rose oil into her skin before dressing. It was hot in her bedroom. The window was wide open, the sounds of crickets floating in on the breeze. As she buttoned her dress she went over to look out across the garden and down to the sea beyond. It was then that she heard a low masculine voice. It was unmistakeable. He was speaking shockingly bad Italian to Beata, who was listening to him patiently. It belonged to Fitz.

She ran downstairs, then composed herself a moment in the kitchen before going out on to the terrace. ‘Oh, it’s you, Fitz!’ she exclaimed, feigning surprise.

‘I was just . . .’ He was about to make up a story about passing by coincidence. But Alba would see through that. ‘I wanted to see you,’ he said simply.

‘Where’s your wife?’

‘Shopping.’

‘Do you fancy a walk? We could go down to the old lookout point.’

‘I’d love that.’

‘Will you stay until Rosa comes home, Beata?’

‘I’ll stay as long as you need me, my dear. You go off and have a nice time.’ Beata smiled, she wasn’t so old that she couldn’t remember what it was like to be in the company of an attractive man.

Fitz put his hands in his pockets, bid goodnight to Beata, then followed Alba down the olive grove towards the cliffs. The sun was setting, turning the sky to crimson and gold just above the horizon.

‘This place is just the same, isn’t it?’ he said, glancing at her. ‘You haven’t changed either, Alba.’

‘We only really change on the outside. When I’m with you, I’m twenty-five again.’

‘I should have come after you.’

‘No, you did what you felt was right.’

‘It wasn’t right.
You
were right for me. It’s like the last thirty years haven’t happened. I don’t know why I lacked courage.’

‘How soon after I left did you meet Rosemary?’

‘Weeks.’

‘That soon? Weren’t you a little sad?’

‘I was devastated. I missed you terribly. At one point I nearly came back, but by then Rosemary was on the scene. She managed to convince me that I wouldn’t be happy in Italy. She told me that if you’d really loved me you would have put me above Italy.’

‘It wasn’t just Italy, Fitz. It was Cosima too. She’s like a daughter to me, you know. I have never once regretted coming back.’

‘I’ve regretted not following you a million times.’

‘But you’re happy with Rosemary?’

‘I was happy with you. I’m content with Rosemary. She’s a good woman. She looks after me. It’s not passionate like it was with you and we certainly don’t laugh as much.’ He gazed at her tenderly. ‘You were the great love of my life, Alba. There’ll never be another you.’

‘I’m flattered. We did have fun, didn’t we?’ She began to walk with a bounce in her step. With Fitz she felt headstrong and mischievous, as if she were young and playful again and not a grandmother who had to conform to stereotype.

‘I’ve thought about you often over the years. It’s crazy to think of you being a grandmother. You’re frozen in my mind as you were when you left.’

‘I’m afraid I’m a lot older and fatter than I was.’

‘No, you’re more beautiful now because your face shows your wisdom. You’ve calmed down, too, I can tell.’

‘How do you know?’

‘You were incredibly selfish when I met you.’

‘I was not!’

‘You were promiscuous, wilful, obstinate and wild. You had everyone running around after you. That’s why I fell in love with you because you were like a wild animal. So, Alba, who tamed you?’

‘A photographer called Panfilo.’

‘Great name,’ he conceded.

‘Great man.’

‘Has he made you happy? Or will there only be one Fitz?’

She pushed him playfully. ‘I’m afraid I can’t tell you what you want to hear. I’ll tell it the way it is. He’s the love of my life. Who knows what would have become of us had we danced off into the sunset, but Panfilo has made me very happy.’

Fitz struggled to hide his disappointment. ‘I’d rather you told me you’d been miserable for the last thirty years!’

‘And then what? You’d leave Rosemary, I’d leave Panfilo and we’d start a life together? You know that would be impossible.’

‘I can’t say I haven’t thought about it.’

‘You
are
funny.’

‘I’m an old man now. I’m entitled to dream.’

‘You’re not old! There’s no excuse for that sort of dream. You made your bed, now you must lie in it.’

They reached the olive tree and sat down. ‘So, where’s Viv these days?’

‘She’s dead, Alba.’

‘Good God!’ Alba blanched at the news of her old friend. ‘Viv, dead?’

‘She died about ten years ago.’

‘She was my one true friend. She stuck with me through thick and thin, the only person I could talk to. It’s sad we lost touch. But let’s not dwell on sad things. Tell me about England. It’s years since I’ve been back. Tell me about you.’ She lay on her side, holding her head up with her hand. ‘I’m listening. I want to hear everything. This is the only chance we’ll get.’

‘Oh, I don’t know. If Rosemary finds us, we’ll have the rest of my life!’

Eugenio drove the car through the gates of La Marmella. ‘Why do you think she’ll be here?’ Luca asked Rosa.

‘If she’s not here I don’t know where she’ll be.’

‘Oh, God!’ he groaned. ‘If she’s not here I’ll slit my throat!’

The car rattled up the drive. Lemon trees glimmered in the evening light. Flies hovered among the leaves and a spray of small birds took off to the skies. Luca felt sick with worry. He knew how fragile she was. Cosima must think he had betrayed her. That he was a liar. That he had used Francesco to get to her like some low-life fraud. He silently prayed that she was here with Manfreda, the one woman who could vouch for his integrity. The car stopped outside the front door and Luca climbed out and rang the bell. He shuffled from foot to foot with impatience. The few seconds it took for Manfreda to reach it felt like a lifetime. When she finally opened the door, Luca practically fell in with eagerness.

‘Manfreda!’ he exclaimed. ‘Is she here?’

‘Of course she’s here,’ she replied calmly. ‘Come in.’ She stood aside to let him pass. ‘Hello Rosa, Eugenio.’ She chuckled. ‘You’ve brought everyone!’

‘Is she okay?’

‘She’s fine,’ said Manfreda gravely. ‘But you, young man, have a lot of explaining to do.’ She waggled a bony finger at him.

‘I know. Where is she?’

‘On the terrace.’

She turned to Rosa. ‘Violetta has made the most delicious
limoncello
. Come, let’s have some. It’s in the kitchen.’ She led them away. Rosa looked over her shoulder, wishing she could be present for their making-up. Eugenio couldn’t have cared less. The prospect of a glass of
limoncello
was infinitely more enticing than watching a reunion between Cosima and Luca.

Luca walked on to the terrace. There at the table sat Cosima – and Francesco. Luca did a double-take. For a split second he thought the child was real, but then he recognised the luminous quality of his body, as if he were made of transparent colours, like a rainbow. He decided now wouldn’t be the moment to mention his presence.

Cosima looked at him with a distant expression in her eyes. A barrier had grown up between them behind which she sat stiffly, like a stranger.

‘I’m sorry, Cosi. I should have told you about Freya.’

‘I’m listening.’

‘She’s an old friend. My oldest friend. I didn’t behave very well when I last saw her. I’ve never liked her husband. He’s an ass. So I flirted with her, knowing that she was married and unavailable. I told her she was the only woman I’d ever loved, that now I was divorced I could see that the woman I have always looked for had been right by my side all along. Then I came out here and met you.’ He reached for her hand, but she withdrew it, placing it on her lap. He persevered. ‘Now she’s discovered her husband is having an affair. I invited her out to cheer her up. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to upset
you
and I needed to tell her about you in my own time so I wouldn’t upset
her
. I guess I tried to please you both and ended up hurting the woman I love the most. Down on the beach I broke it to her that I’m no longer available. That my heart is with you.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I didn’t imagine it would be like this,’ he said, taking out the little jewellery box. ‘I fantasised that we’d be in some romantic spot.’ Her eyes fell on the box. ‘I showed this to Freya. I wanted her to know how serious I am about you.’ He pushed it towards her. ‘I love you, Cosi. I’ve never lied to you. And I never will. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.’

Francesco watched his mother take the box. She bit her lip while she deliberated what to do, until curiosity got the better of her and she opened it. Without waiting for her permission, Luca took her left hand and slipped the ring on the fourth finger. ‘Please forgive me, my darling.’ A fat tear trickled down her cheek. ‘Please say you’ll marry me?’

She shook her head and pulled off the ring, replacing it carefully in its box. ‘I cannot marry you.’

Luca felt the world fall away. ‘You can’t? Why?’

‘Because I can’t live anywhere else but here.’

‘Why not?’

‘I can never leave Francesco!’ She swallowed.

Francesco stared at her sadly. Then he looked at Luca, his brown eyes large and pleading.

‘Francesco is right beside you,’ he said softly. ‘He’s right there in that chair.’

Cosima looked at the empty space beside her. ‘Stop, Luca. Don’t . . .’

‘He’s here, I swear it,’ he insisted.

‘Don’t torment me!’ Her face turned white with fury. ‘Don’t use my son to get to me!’

Luca closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He emptied his head of thoughts so that Francesco could transmit into the void.

‘Talk to me, Francesco,’ he said. ‘Your mother needs you now, and so do I.’

He waited. Cosima remained totally still, staring at him incredulously. At first all he could hear was his heart thumping in his ears. If he failed she’d lose all trust. He had to communicate with Francesco. His life depended on it.

In the silence of his mind words formed sentences that were not of his making. Slowly Luca repeated what he heard. He didn’t open his eyes for fear of breaking the moment and he didn’t think of Cosima’s reaction, but concentrated on holding on to the voice, a shiver of excitement washing over him for at last being able to communicate with her son.

‘I left my toys around the house to get your attention,
Mamma
, but you always blamed my cousins. You never imagined it was me. I tried so hard for you to notice me. I’m always with you, every day and every night. I have never left your side, but you cannot see me which makes me sad. I’m sorry I ran after the feather. One minute I was in the water and the next I was on the beach, shouting at you, but you didn’t see me and you didn’t hear me. I wanted to make you better so I put my butterfly on your pillow but you got cross with Alessandro. You didn’t know it was me, wanting to say sorry. Alessandro saw me but he was too afraid to tell you. I gave him a yellow rose to give you, but you didn’t imagine it was me. Don’t you remember? Yellow is my favourite colour. I put a white feather on the candle table in the church, then at your feet when you knelt in prayer. There was no other way to reach you. Only Luca can see me and he doesn’t know why. Some children can see me too, which is fun for it is very lonely like this. I try to reach the light, but I’m so heavy with your sorrow that I can’t jump high enough. One day you’ll know that dying isn’t an end but life going on in a different way. I know now that it was my time to return home. It was already decided before I was born. The one thing we take with us is love. I carry your love with me,
Mamma
, in my heart.’

Francesco stopped talking. Luca’s eyes were wet with tears. He looked across at Cosima; her hand was over her mouth and her fingers were trembling. Neither spoke.

Francesco moved his hand and placed his fingers on the box. It was barely discernible at first, but then it gained a little speed as Francesco moved the box across the table. The little box moved right before their eyes, seemingly all by itself, until it stopped in front of Cosima.

Francesco looked up at his mother. ‘I want you to be happy,’ he said.

Luca tried to speak but all that came out was a croak. He cleared his throat, then repeated what Francesco had said.

‘Ask him one thing,’ Cosima whispered. ‘What is the name of his favourite butterfly?’

Luca didn’t need to ask. Francesco was already replying. ‘My Morfino.’

Cosima began to cry. ‘That was his special name for it. The Morfino. Tell him I hope Heaven is full of Morfini.’

‘He says one day you’ll come and see for yourself.’

Cosima opened the box and placed the ring on her finger. ‘I want to be happy, too,’ she said. ‘But I don’t want to leave Incantellaria.’

‘So, you’ll marry me?’