The Italian Matchmaker

by Santa Montefiore

  Her scarlet nails clawed his back. Then, in her imagination, it was Luca’s skin she was ripping, his bristles scratching her neck, his lips kissing her throat, his hands running appreciatively over her body. She felt herself grow hot with arousal. How she would thrive on the wild, adventurous life of her grandmother, Valentina! To rise above the boredom of Incantellaria like she had done, to feel the hands of rich and dangerous men caressing her body, leaving trails of diamonds on her skin. Rosa kissed her husband and let her imagination take her to more exciting places.

  Cosima stood beside the ancient stone fort that had once been a lookout point for the enemy approaching by sea and gazed over the water. Perhaps Francesco wasn’t at the bottom of the sea, after all. Perhaps his spirit lived on, as Luca believed it did. What did he think of her mourning him in such despair? If he had indeed appealed to Luca for help, then he didn’t want her to join him in death, but was willing her to live.

  She smiled at the thought of Luca, his kind blue eyes, his raffish grin, the tender way he had placed his hand on hers to reassure her that she wasn’t alone. She felt an unfamiliar mixture of fear and excitement, the tentative stirring of happiness long forgotten. Her tears weren’t the habitual tears of despair, but water from her thawing heart. She gazed out at the black horizon and felt a quiver of anticipation. Perhaps there was something beyond the darkness, after all.

  Below her, beneath the olive tree, lay Valentina’s grave. Alba tended it regularly, pulling up weeds that seeded themselves in the soil, and occasionally laying flowers from her garden. She had faith. She knew that her mother wasn’t actually there in the soil, but in a world beyond the senses of normal people. She had a certainty that Cosima envied. As much as Alba had tried to convince her, Cosima had refused to believe in what she couldn’t see. Religion, so much part of her growing up, had seemed farcical in the face of her son’s death, like pretty icing to hide a rotten cake. If Luca was right, the cake might not be so rotten after all.

  When she returned home the lights in the house had been switched off but for the one in the hall. Everyone had gone to bed, or so she thought. She was making for the door when a voice came from the table beneath the vine. ‘You’re back.’ It was Alba.

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to alarm you.’

  ‘I thought you’d gone to bed.’

  ‘I’ve worried about you constantly for the last three years. Every time you walk down that path to the cliffs, I fear you won’t come back. I have to be sure you’re safe before I can lay my head on the pillow.’

  ‘I’m sorry I’ve put you all through so much.’

  ‘Sit down.’ Alba leaned forward, her elbows on the table. ‘What did Luca tell you?’

  ‘That he saw Francesco. That’s how he knew I was in the sea.’

  ‘Do you believe him?’

  ‘I want to.’

  ‘I want you to as well. To try to explain faith to one who believes only in the physical world is like trying to explain a painting to a blind person. Faith is the only thing that will give you the will to live. Knowing that your son is with you in spirit is the only way you’ll move on. Your life is an obstacle course. There are other obstacles you must jump and some will give you great happiness. Francesco had surmounted all the obstacles in his race and it was time to cross the finishing line. He’s resting now and looking out for you, willing you to complete your course.’

  ‘I’m feeling more positive,’ she said with a smile.

  ‘Then put on a nice dress. That black is so unbecoming.’ Alba took her hand. ‘I’ll buy you something new. Yellow would suit you.’

  ‘Francesco’s favourite colour.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  Cosima smiled tentatively. ‘Do you remember the fashion show we put on when I was a little girl?’

  ‘Your father was so proud and you were so excited you twirled around like a ballerina.’

  ‘You bought me so many dresses in the dwarfs’ shop.’

  ‘You couldn’t choose, you liked them all. And you cried because no one had ever bought you so many before.’

  ‘We didn’t have much money.’

  ‘But I did and it was the first time I’d ever thought of anyone besides myself. In fact, I think you were the first person to teach me the joy of giving.’

  ‘Whatever happened to the dwarfs?’

  ‘They grew.’

  Cosima looked at her in amusement. ‘You’re not serious.’

  ‘I’m totally serious. They grew. I don’t think there’s a dwarf left in the family. Incantellaria’s not the same without them. But I’ll find a pretty dress in Gaia Rabollini’s boutique.’

  ‘That’s very expensive.’

  ‘Consider it a coming-out present. It’s about time Incantellaria saw how pretty you are.’

  14

  At the end of the following week, Luca drove to Naples to pick up his daughters and their nanny, Sammy. He motored along the winding roads that hugged the red cliffs of the costiera and thought of Valentina, murdered somewhere on this very route – a small-town beauty playing a big and dangerous game. He wondered whether the Marchese, murdered in the palazzo, was somehow haunting the place just as Francesco was lingering close to his mother. Rather than suppressing those thoughts, he let them come. Whether he liked it or not, the spirit world was all around him. He didn’t know why he had had the sensitivity to see it in childhood, or why the spirits had come back now. Perhaps they had never really gone; he just hadn’t allowed himself to see them.

  Inevitably, these thoughts led to Cosima. She wasn’t beautiful like her cousin, Rosa, but she had an allure that had nothing to do with lipstick and pretty dresses and everything to do with a vast capacity for love. He recalled the way her brown eyes had brightened as she talked about Francesco and what he had meant to her. The love she felt for him had no limit. His loss hadn’t diminished her love but made it greater. She was a vulnerable flame; Luca wanted to put his hands around her to protect her. And he wanted some of her for himself.

  He had no desire to go back to London. He didn’t miss his colleagues and friends. He didn’t miss the adrenalin rush of winning new clients and the triumph of making them richer. He had stepped off the treadmill into a quiet lay-by and at last he could hear himself think. He looked forward to showing Coco and Juno round Incantellaria but his happiness was mixed with apprehension; he didn’t really know them, what they liked and didn’t like. His work had meant he had seen very little of them, only snapshots of their growing up and frozen frames of them sleeping when he’d returned late at night. Their brief weekend visits to his mews house had been as artificial as a pretty shop window full of toys. It wasn’t a real home and he didn’t behave like a real father. He didn’t even bother to help them with their homework. Sammy had always been there to fill the void and give them a sense of normality. Now he had all the time in the world, what was he going to do with them? He parked at the airport and strode into the arrivals hall. He waited, watching the people come out pushing their suitcases on trolleys, searching the crowd for their friends and family. He watched their faces light up with recognition and break into broad smiles, and he watched them embrace. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been met with such excitement, or the last time he had kissed a lover with such passion. He thrust his hands into his pockets and looked away.

  Finally, Sammy emerged with the two girls. She looked pretty, her blonde hair escaping from its clip, her cheeks flushed from the heat of the airport. Juno grinned broadly on seeing her father but Coco looked bored and tired and didn’t smile. ‘Hello there, girls,’ he exclaimed, picking up Juno and kissing her soft cheek. She rubbed her furry toy caterpillar into his face. ‘I’ve brought Greedy,’ she said. ‘Doesn’t he smell nice!’

  Luca pushed it away. ‘Delicious, like cake. He likes you better.’ He turned to the nanny. ‘Hi Sammy. All well?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter how often they fly, they still get a kick out of it,’ she said. Coco leaned against her and yawne
d.

  ‘Ready for bed, darling?’ he quipped, trying to perk her up.

  ‘Is Mummy coming?’ Coco asked. He looked at Sammy who rolled her eyes at the child’s obvious attempt at manipulation.

  ‘You’ve got Daddy all to yourself,’ she said, her Australian accent giving her voice an inspiring bounce.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Juno asked, enjoying being carried.

  ‘To a palace,’ her father replied. He led the way through the airport with Sammy pushing the trolley behind.

  ‘Is it a real palace?’

  ‘A real palace, and you and Coco can be real princesses.’

  ‘I didn’t bring my princess costume,’ lamented Coco. ‘John brought me a new one. It’s pink and sparkly and the prettiest I’ve ever seen.’

  ‘I’m sure Granny will think of something.’

  ‘Is Granny here?’ said Coco, her voice brightening.

  ‘Granny Romina,’ Sammy corrected.

  ‘Oh.’ Coco barely remembered what Granny Romina looked like. Sammy strapped them into the back of the car and came to sit in the front. ‘Lucky we didn’t bring too much luggage,’ she said, running her eyes over Luca’s unlikely vehicle.

  ‘It’s my mother’s,’ he explained. ‘Just what you need for the winding roads here.’

  ‘I’ll take your word for it.’

  Juno began chattering to Greedy while Coco looked despondently out of the window. She’d already been to Italy, loads of times. She hadn’t been to a palace, though, and her curiosity was roused, in spite of herself.

  ‘So, how’s Claire?’ Luca asked.

  ‘She’s good, very excited about Barbados. She’ll miss the kids, though. But we’re going to have a good time, aren’t we, girls?’

  Romina was overjoyed to see her granddaughters. Juno allowed herself to be smothered in perfume and linen while Coco stiffened and grimaced until the ordeal was over. ‘They are delightful girls,’ she enthused. ‘I’ll get Ventura to show them to their rooms.’

  Coco looked up at the palazzo with wide eyes. ‘Is it haunted?’

  ‘Absolutely not!’ Romina replied. ‘There are no such things as ghosts.’

  ‘Yes, there are,’ said Coco. ‘All palaces have ghosts.’

  ‘Run along, girls,’ Sammy cajoled as Ventura disappeared inside. ‘Go and unpack, then we can explore.’

  Romina gave him a quizzical look. ‘You should keep an eye on Coco,’ she warned. ‘I don’t think Claire is on top of things.’

  ‘She’s just imaginative,’ said Luca, feeling protective of his eldest daughter.

  ‘I won’t tolerate talk of ghosts. It’s silly. Ventura is quite enough for me to have to deal with.’

  Luca followed his mother on to the terrace where the professor was reading poetry to Ma while she worked on her needlepoint. Dizzy was by the pool, Maxwell absorbed in making business calls to Vienna and London.

  ‘What are you going to do with the girls?’ Romina asked.

  ‘I don’t know. I’ll let them settle in, I think. They might like to swim.’

  ‘Bill will be pleased. He put the pool in especially for them.’

  ‘I might take them into town for tea.’

  Romina raised her eyebrows, suspecting his motive. ‘That’s a good idea, darling. Perhaps I will come with you. I’d like to show them the harbour with all the pretty little boats. I’m sure they’ll be enchanted.’

  ‘I don’t think Coco’s enchanted by anything.’

  ‘Give her time. Incantellaria will work its magic. There’s still time to un-spoil her, even if it is too late for her mother.’ Romina glanced anxiously at Porci who was lying asleep beneath the table. ‘Most odd. Porci’s been off his food for a few days now, yet doesn’t seem to be getting any thinner. I wonder whether the staff are feeding him on the sly.’

  ‘There’s always enough food left over to feed an entire pig farm!’ Luca replied.

  ‘They’ve been told not to feed him between meals, but that belly looks full to me.’

  Sammy appeared with the girls, a beach bag of swimsuits and towels hanging from her arm. She had changed out of her jeans into a pretty blue sundress and flip-flops. She was already tanned, her skin glowing and smooth. Even Maxwell did a double-take.

  ‘Isn’t this glorious, girls?’ she exclaimed.

  ‘Come and have a drink, you must be thirsty,’ said Romina. ‘Juno, my darling, come and show Granny your caterpillar. What’s he called?’ Juno approached her grandmother without inhibition. Coco remained glued to Sammy.

  Romina made the introductions. ‘This is Maxwell.’

  Sammy extended her hand. ‘Good to meet you.’ Her smile was white and wholesome. Maxwell metamorphosed into a different species. He shed his dull, beige skin and emerged a new man, as if he had been hibernating and had suddenly woken up.

  ‘Welcome. Can I pour you a drink?’

  ‘Give the kids something first,’ she said, sitting down. ‘Poor lambs, they’ve had a long journey.’

  Suddenly Coco spotted Porci under the table. She summoned her sister with a cry of delight and both girls disappeared, falling on the unsuspecting pig who awoke with a squeal.

  Maxwell poured two glasses of lemonade. ‘What will you have?’

  ‘Same, please.’

  ‘How long are you staying?’

  ‘A week, isn’t it great!’

  ‘You will love it here. Romina and Bill are exceptional hosts.’

  ‘How long have you been here?’

  ‘Too long! We have accepted Romina’s hospitality for weeks, using this as a base camp to explore the south of Italy.’

  Ma watched with amusement as Maxwell flirted with Sammy though she seemed oblivious. ‘She’s jolly pretty. Maxwell’s going to make a fool of himself. The blunderer!’ Ma scoffed as Dizzy appeared in a diaphanous pink kaftan that barely covered her bikini bottoms.

  ‘This should be fun,’ said Caradoc, putting down his poetry.

  ‘Dizzy!’ said Maxwell, his voice rising a note. ‘Come and meet Luca’s children.’

  Dizzy barely glanced at the girls before her eyes settled on Sammy. ‘Hi,’ she said tightly. She wasn’t about to shake hands with the hired help.

  ‘Nice to meet you. Right, girls. Time for a swim, eh?’ Dizzy stood behind her husband, picked up his glass of lemonade, and took a sip. She rested her hand proprietorially on his shoulder.

  ‘A good morning then?’ she asked.

  ‘Perfect,’ he replied, his eyes never leaving Sammy.

  Ma gave a satisfied snort. ‘Dizzy should eat carbohydrates,’ she said without bothering to lower her voice. ‘Sammy’s as sunny as a continental breakfast.’

  ‘I predict trouble ahead,’ said Caradoc.

  ‘I think Maxwell’s in enough trouble already,’ said Luca, taking the chair beside Ma and picking up the thread of their conversation.

  The drama continued to build over lunch. Dizzy found herself at the opposite end of the table to Sammy and Maxwell. Luca made eyes at Ma as Maxwell flirted over the heads of the children, who were between him and the object of his desire. He lowered his voice every now and then, sliding his eyes to the other end of the table to check his wife wasn’t eavesdropping. His sudden interest in the children, making his napkin into a water lily for Coco and a caterpillar for Juno, was very out of character.

  ‘I can’t imagine why he doesn’t have children of his own,’ said Romina.

  ‘Dizzy doesn’t want to ruin her figure, I should imagine,’ said Ma. ‘Anyone who cares that much about what she eats is bound to be body obsessed. Sammy is a picture of health and sanity. I raise my glass to her.’ The more Maxwell flirted the more enraged his wife became. The only person who seemed not to notice was Sammy. Finally, Dizzy raised her voice so her husband could hear and spoke to Romina across the table. ‘It is such a shame we have to return to Vienna.’

  Like a salmon he rose to the bait. ‘Oh, darling, the lunch table is hardly the place to discuss our travel plans.’


  ‘But we cannot impose on our good hosts a moment longer,’ she said with a pout.

  Romina made no attempt to encourage them to stay.

  ‘The trouble with you, Romina, is that you make it so comfortable one wishes to stay for ever.’ Maxwell gave a nervous laugh.

  ‘We have commitments in Vienna, darling,’ said Dizzy. There was an unmistakeable edge to her voice.

  ‘Well, we’ve loved having you,’ said Bill. ‘I toast your good health and your safe journey home.’

  Maxwell bowed, recognising he was outmanoeuvred. ‘Thank you, Bill.’

  After lunch, when Maxwell and Dizzy had retreated inside, Caradoc, Ma and Luca could hear the most monumental row through the open upstairs window. Ma raised her glass. ‘To Dizzy,’ she said with a wicked grin. ‘Not so dull after all.’

  Luca changed into a pair of pale blue Villebrequin shorts and dived into the pool to play with his daughters. Juno, who still wore arm bands, squealed with laughter when he chased her pretending to be a crocodile. He picked her up and threw her into the air so that she landed in the water with a splash, emerging, wiping her eyes and roaring with delight. Coco was harder to coax. She sat on the side in a pretty Melissa Odabash bathing suit, dangling her legs in the water, admiring her pedicure. Finally, Luca ignored her protests and put her upon his shoulders, then jumped up and down until her sullen face broke into a smile.

  Dizzy emerged mid-afternoon, her eyes hidden behind large sunglasses, and lay listening to her music without a word to anyone. Sammy lay on her stomach watching the girls, her curvaceous body clad in a discreet yellow one-piece bathing suit. Luca drove his mother and daughters down the hill to the town. Sammy didn’t fit in the car and remained by the pool, reading Sophie Kinsella. The children giggled in the back while Luca and Romina discussed the episode at lunch.

  ‘I think it’s high time they went home,’ said Romina. ‘For the sake of their marriage.’

  ‘Don’t you resent people staying so long, sponging off you like parasites?’