‘I’m afraid I’m a bit overdressed. I could pop back into the hotel and slip on my shorts if you like.’
‘You’ve got to be kidding. That dress is perfect.’
Jo took a deep breath and assumed a nonchalance she didn’t feel. ‘Well, if you’re sure. So, we’re off to the Appian Way again?’
‘If that suits you?’ He registered her nod of the head. ‘You said you didn’t want a big meal and I’ve taken you at your word. I’ve just got some cheese and a few other bits and pieces.’
‘That sounds perfect.’
When they got to his house, she quickly discovered that the ‘few other bits and pieces’ covered virtually the whole table top. Apart from seven types of cheese, there were artichoke hearts, sundried tomatoes and huge green olives in olive oil, a board loaded with ham, salami and sausage and a mixed salad with every conceivable ingredient in it. There was smoked salmon on squares of toast, little kebabs of grilled chicken in a spicy tomato-based sauce and even spicier meatballs. Altogether, there was enough food there to feed a very hungry family. Two or three times.
‘Wow, Corrado, are you fattening me up for Christmas?’
‘You don’t need to eat it all. It’s all stuff that’ll keep.’ He grinned at her. ‘This way, I’ve got my next few days’ meals already prepared, so that frees me up.’
He told her all about the beautiful old house which dated back three hundred years, and pointed out a number of larger sculpted stones set in the walls, that had clearly been scavenged from older, almost certainly Roman buildings. The floors were delightful old terracotta tiles, worn down by the passage of countless feet over the centuries. The ceilings downstairs were vaulted, made of handsome old bricks and supported by tree trunks. He didn’t offer to take her upstairs and, on reflection, Jo felt relieved; Victoria’s words to her about willpower came to mind and she knew full well there was only so much of it she could muster. It was an amazing place and Jo fell instantly in love with it. She even told him so.
‘Now, don’t take this the wrong way, Corrado, but I think I’ve fallen in love with your house. It’s the only way to describe how I feel about it, but this clearly can’t be lust.’ She grinned at him. ‘I mean, I like the house, but I don’t want to bear its children.’
‘It’s all right. You’re allowed to use the word. I do it myself. I love the banana ice cream from along the road, for example. I love cool, crisp autumn days, I love sailing out to Ponza and the Pontine islands. I love all those things. It’s just the whole emotional relationship thing that leaves me cold.’
It was another very warm night and Jo could have questioned his choice of idiom, but she thought it better to move the conversation away from such potentially troubled waters.
‘Well, however I say it, I think it’s a spectacularly wonderful house.’
‘I’m very glad you like it. I tell you what, let’s leave the food for ten minutes and go out and see the garden. The sun hasn’t disappeared quite yet. You never know, we may even be able to find you a butterfly or two.’
She grabbed her phone out of her bag, but then paused, pointing at the table covered with the food he had just removed from the fridge.
‘Is it all right to leave this? Daisy won’t steal food, will she?’
Corrado shook his head. ‘Absolutely not. There aren’t many rules in this house, but that’s one she has learnt and which she obeys.’ He glanced down at the dog and ruffled her ears. ‘You’re not a bad old dog, really, are you?’
‘But you don’t love her?’
‘Oh, all right, I suppose if I can tell you I love ice cream, it won’t hurt to say I love my dog.’ He caught her eye and smiled. ‘Love me, love my dog, as the saying goes.’
‘Well, I definitely love your dog.’ Concerned at the direction the conversation was taking once again, she turned away from the table and headed for French windows set into a wonderful stone arch in the far wall of the huge open-plan living room. ‘Is this the way out?’
Corrado and Daisy led her out into the garden and she was immediately hit by a cocktail of scents emanating from flowers, bushes and Mediterranean herbs. Strongest of all was lavender, but as they walked, she caught rosemary, roses and wisteria in the evening air. As he had said, the top third of the sun’s orb was still just visible above the red horizon and it was light enough to see what a wonderful garden he had. There were palms, fruit trees and vines, as well as a delightful swimming pool that looked as if it has been hewn out of solid rock. It even had a little waterfall feeding it. This, even more than the Range Rover and his wonderful stone villa, brought home to Jo that she was in the presence of somebody who inhabited a very different world from hers; a world where money was no problem. For a moment, the thought of money gave her a vivid flashback of Markus’s Mercedes, the floating restaurant on the Thames and the two-hundred-pound bottle of wine. Somehow, seeing the luxury of Corrado’s home made it a bit easier to control the baser urges coming from her brain on this sultry Roman night. As she had already told herself a hundred times this week, nothing must ever happen between them.
Luckily, she wasn’t given much time for further reflection as she spotted a black and white shape settled on a huge buddleia bush. It wasn’t the elusive Purple Emperor, but nevertheless she was delighted to find it was yet another very unusual butterfly she had been hoping to see. She beckoned Corrado over and pointed out how unusual it was. It wasn’t the fact that it was quite a big butterfly with fan-shaped wings, nor the fact that it had appealing zebra stripe markings that made it special. She glanced up at Corrado and whispered, ‘Have you seen one of these before?’
He shook his head. ‘No, it’s a new one for me.’
‘Well, watch this. Hang on, I’ll video it.’
She took a couple of photos and then switched the camera to ‘video’. Once she was ready, she whispered to him again.
‘Very gently, brush your fingers close to it so it flies off. Go on.’
He did as instructed and, sure enough, the butterfly took flight. She captured it as it did so and then turned the lens on Corrado’s face. He was looking perplexed and she laughed.
‘It flew off backwards…’ He looked straight at her and shook his head. ‘I’ve never seen anything like that before.’
Jo stopped filming and explained.
‘No, it just looked as if it was flying backwards. Iphiclides podalirius is its Latin name. In Britain it’s called the Scarce Swallowtail, but I don’t know if it’s got a common name over here. This butterfly has markings like a head where its rear really is and vice versa, and the long tails at the ends of the wings look like proboscises. It’s very clever, when you think about it. As a predator pounces, it gets a real surprise to see its prey fly off in the opposite direction to what it was expecting.’ She gave him a big smile. ‘Nature’s amazing, isn’t it?’
So was dinner. The food was excellent and his company equally so. They chatted about everything from conservation to chemistry, from shopping to sailing and she thanked him again for all the information he had given her on replacements for plastics. He told her about his yacht that he kept down on the coast and showed her a couple of photos. It looked fabulous. He told her a lot more about himself and his business, his interests and his life, and she did the same, finally finding herself recounting the circumstances leading to her break up with Christian.
‘I feel so very stupid, looking back on it. I genuinely thought everything was going fine between us.’ She caught his eye and shrugged. ‘It had been four years and I was even starting to think about wedding dresses and that sort of thing. And all the time, he was planning on dumping me for another woman. Well, maybe not all the time, but certainly towards the end.’
‘So, when you told me you’d been in love, it was with this guy?’
‘That’s right. And he kept telling me he loved me, too, almost to the very last day, which I now know it was all a pack of lies. That’s why I’m coming round to thinking that you might have a point
when you say this love thing’s all an illusion, or a delusion.’
‘I’m really sorry for you, Jo. I can see how badly it must have hurt you.’ He paused for a moment. ‘To be totally honest, that’s the other reason I refuse to buy into the whole everlasting love thing. If films, plays or books teach us anything, it’s that love almost always leads to tears. Why should I expose myself to the risk of getting kicked in the metaphorical teeth when I can be just as happy without getting involved?’
Jo took a big mouthful of ice-cold mineral water. ‘So, you’re not a fan of the whole “better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all” thing?’
‘Not me. Tennyson was a great poet, but I disagree with him about that.’
Jo nodded sadly. Maybe Corrado was right. Maybe she was right. Maybe the happy smile on Victoria’s face this week was nothing more than a reflex reaction to having sex. Statistically, it was more likely than not that she and George wouldn’t end up together for life, so there was most probably heartbreak ahead for both of them. And after her experience with Christian, Jo wouldn’t wish that on anyone.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a movement and a low-pitched whine from under the table. Corrado interpreted for her.
‘That’s Daisy telling me she wants to go out for a pee. Do you feel like a short walk and then I’ll drop you back into town?’
‘Absolutely. I’m just sorry to make you drive again. Why don’t we call a taxi to take me back?’
Her subconscious helpfully pointed out to her that the other solution would be for her to spend the night here with him, but she resolutely stamped all over it. It wasn’t going to happen. It mustn’t happen.
‘Nonsense, I’m happy to do it. In fact, I’ll take the Fiat and spend the night in town. Just remind me to put the leftovers in the fridge first.’
They walked down the drive and along the Appian Way. Dusk had fallen by now and it was remarkably quiet, apart from an occasional aircraft heading for Rome’s other airport, Ciampino, to the south of them. As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she saw stars twinkling up above and hardly a single light anywhere around, although the orange glow in the sky behind them reminded her of the proximity of the city. She reached across and caught hold of his arm for support on the rough cobbles and he made no objection.
They walked for about ten minutes before turning back. The black dog had a spooky habit of disappearing from sight, blending into the darkness, only to reappear from a totally different direction, her eyes glowing green in the starlight. A handful of fireflies also appeared and danced around them. It was a magical evening and she was happier than she had been at any time this year. As they returned to the house, she felt she should tell him.
‘Corrado, I just wanted to say thank you for everything. I don’t just mean your incredible generosity and for devoting so much time to looking after me. Being here this week has been the best thing that’s happened to me for ages, years, and it’s down to you. I’m so very glad to be your friend.’ She was still holding onto his arm so she gave it a squeeze. ‘Thank you. Very much.’
‘You’re very welcome, Jo. I just hope you come back and see me again before too long.’
‘Of course I will. And there’s always Mario and Angie’s wedding coming up, isn’t there?’ She had a sudden idea. ‘I know! What’re you doing tomorrow night?’
‘Nothing special, why?’
‘Right, hang on a sec.’
She reached for her phone and called Angie.
‘Hi, Angie. Are you and Mario free tomorrow night?’
‘Yes, why?’
‘As a little thank you to Mario and you, I’d like to take you both out to dinner along with Corrado. No, no objections, I know a little pizzeria not far from Corrado’s flat. It’s called l’Aragosta and the pizzas are really good. And it’s not too expensive. Is that okay with you? But, my treat, all right?’
Jo had to argue with her sister for another couple of minutes but she finally got an agreement out of her. Putting the phone away, she returned her attention to Corrado.
‘So, have we got a deal?’
‘There’s no need for you to do this, Jo. Yes, I know l’Aragosta and you’re right about the pizza there. Really good.’ As they walked in through the entry archway and up the gravel drive towards the house, he reluctantly agreed. ‘You’re on my turf here in Rome. I should be paying, but if you insist, then I accept with thanks.’
Jo helped him put the food away before they went out to the little car. By the time they got to her hotel, she was feeling pleasantly sleepy and even the feel of his lips on her cheeks as they said goodnight to each other didn’t wake her up too much.
‘Thanks for everything, Corrado.’
‘I’m the one who should be doing the thanking. I enjoy being with you. A lot.’
‘Me too. Goodnight. See you tomorrow.’ She gave him a smile, patted the dog and then went up to her room.
It had been a lovely night. And the good news, she told herself, was that she had only one more day to go before her overtaxed willpower could be allowed a well-earned rest.
The bad news, of course, was that this would mean separation from Corrado.
Chapter 11
Friday morning at the conference passed quickly, ending up with a plenary session and the adoption of a number of proposals to be transmitted to governments at the highest level. Just how seriously these would be taken was, of course, anybody’s guess. Governments hungry for re-election every five years were mostly far more interested in short-term political gain than the long-term survival of the planet. As a result, by the end, Jo, like most of the delegates who filed out of the hall with her, was feeling a bit depressed at the short-sightedness of their political leaders. Even a hug from Ricky and an invitation to California didn’t cheer her up as much as it should have done. Added to this was the knowledge that she was going to meet her ex in less than two hours’ time. As a result, Jo was feeling a bit low as she walked back to the hotel at half past one.
She went up to her room and changed into shorts, T-shirt and sandals and went for a long walk to clear her head. Angie had told her about the Rome craft festival down by the river Tiber, so she headed there first. From Ponte St-Angelo all the way along the river bank to Ponte Cavour were artisan stands selling everything from olive oil and vinegar to purses, bags, ceramics, leather goods and bracelets. She bought her mother a chopping board made of olive wood and, on an impulse, she bought a tea towel depicting statues of muscular Roman gods in various states of undress for Kevin and Justin, her lovely neighbours back in London.
As she walked around, she tasted little samples of pecorino cheese and buffalo mozzarella, spicy sausage and smoked ham, dried fruits, different breads, biscuits and sweets. As a result, she felt no need to stop and have lunch, not least as she knew the dimensions of the pizza that awaited her that night. The thought of the evening to come reminded her that this would be her last sight of Corrado for months, and her overriding sense was one of regret: regret for what might have been but could never be. Doing her best to stay positive, she reflected that this would also be her last chance to see her good friend, Daisy, but in order to do this she realised she needed to book a table outside the restaurant as she imagined the Labrador wouldn’t be allowed inside, much as she would love to follow her nose in there.
With the help of the little map of Rome she had got from the hotel, Jo managed to navigate her way through the maze of little streets as far as the pizzeria and it was the work of a moment to book a table outside on the pavement for four people plus a dog for seven thirty that evening. Although her flight home the next day wasn’t as early as last time, she knew she would have to be up and ready to leave the hotel by seven o’clock next morning, so a late night probably wasn’t the best idea. She texted the time to Angie as well as to Corrado, adding in her message to him that he really had to bring the dog.
By this time, it was almost three o’clock and her reunion with Christian was fast appr
oaching. She had spent most of yesterday and all this morning regretting having agreed to see him again. Although, as she had told Angie, part of her wanted to show him how happy she was without him, the fact of the matter was that she wasn’t really that happy. Yes, she felt quite sure she was over him now, but only at the expense of being alone. The more she thought about it, the more she realised that this week in Rome with Corrado had been so magical that deep down she knew life back in London would feel very flat in comparison. Still, she told herself, Christian didn’t need to know that.
She got to the fountain in Piazza Navona at five to three and it came as no surprise to her to have to wait almost twenty minutes before she spotted the tall, elegant figure of her ex. He strode across the crowded square towards her as if he was still on the catwalk. He never walked anywhere like a normal person, and she distinctly saw three or four women do a double take as they recognised him. One even took his photo as he strode past. Jo sighed to herself as a host of uncomfortable memories came crowding back. He came up to her and held out his arms to hug her. She took a step back.
‘Hello, Christian.’
He stopped, registering the fact that she was not, after all, going to fall into his arms and dropped his hands to his sides.
‘Hello, Jo. How are you?’
‘I’m fine, thanks.’
‘You’re looking good.’
Inevitably, the first thing to cross his mind had to be her appearance. To him and his world, looks were everything. Either by accident or design he was standing facing the sun and she studied him for a few moments before replying. He was still the same wildly handsome man she had lived with for four years. His hair was a good deal longer than the last time she had seen him, his skin was delicately tanned a very light honey colour and she felt pretty sure this had not been achieved by exposure to the damaging rays of the sun. Whether it was spray tan or basting and roasting in a tanning salon was difficult to tell, but he looked good all the same. However, she deliberately didn’t return the compliment.
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