‘Great. I’ll pick you and William up at noon, then.’
* * *
She was ready and waiting for him, and she’d dressed up a bit for the occasion in a pretty blue-and-white sundress, teamed with a pair of practical blue espadrilles. He drove into the hills, south of Palermo, through sun-dappled vineyards. Fields filled with different shades of brown, which he knew probably looked far more dramatic in her eyes. Vibrant greens, that he could only imagine.
‘It’s beautiful up here.’ She’d been twisting around in her seat, talking to William about the things he saw from the car window, but it seemed that his stock of questions was exhausted now, and she turned back towards Matteo.
‘This is where my family comes from. My grandfather used to run the winery, and now my uncle does. My cousins will take over when their time comes.’
‘You never thought you wanted to do something like this. Go into the family business?’
‘No. My grandfather didn’t like it much when my father decided he wanted to go to Rome and become an academic, but by the time I’d decided I wanted to be a doctor, he’d got a little more used to the idea.’
‘But he had another son.’
Matteo grinned. As usual, Rose had found the human heart in the situation. ‘Yeah. Things might have been a bit different if he’d had no one else to pass the vineyard on to.’
‘Not for you, though.’
‘No. Not for me. I love this place, but I don’t think anything could have stopped me from becoming a doctor.’
‘And this clinic we’re going to—it’s attached to the vineyard?’
‘It’s right at the edge of the vineyard, near the village. My uncle donated a piece of land he wasn’t using.’
‘So this really is your family’s project.’
‘It’s very much a joint effort. I’ve known Isabella Mori ever since I was at medical school, she was a visiting lecturer and always on the lookout for volunteers to help at the women’s clinic. When I got back to Sicily from England, she told me about her plans to expand her services to rural communities and I suggested that a general clinic, which was committed to a comprehensive range of women’s groups and services, might be the way to go. Things snowballed from there.’
‘And carried you with them?’ She grinned at him. It was gratifying that Rose clearly suspected that he’d been one of the driving forces behind the venture, and he didn’t need to spell it out.
‘I couldn’t resist interfering a bit.’
She laughed. ‘I bet you couldn’t.’
The car kicked into a lower gear as the road became steeper, and Rose’s restless curiosity moved on to the slopes around them. ‘I thought that vineyards would be on lower ground.’
‘The cooler air in the mountains is much better suited to growing vines. And the volcanic soil.’
‘We’re going to see a volcano?’ William had obviously caught the word.
‘No, darling.’ Rose twisted round in her seat. ‘It’s an extinct volcano. That means that it’s all covered over with rock and it hasn’t bubbled up for a very long time.’
‘Not since...last year?’ In William’s book, last year was a very long time.
‘Not for more than a thousand years.’ Rose paused to let the enormity of a thousand years sink in.
‘It’s not going to erupt today, then?’ William sounded a tad disappointed.
‘No, it isn’t. The place we’re going to see today is where they take all the grapes and make them into wine.’ Rose frowned. ‘These grapes?’
‘Yeah, these are the ones.’
‘The vines don’t look quite as I’d imagined them. Will they grow taller?’
‘These bush vines aren’t as high yielding, but they’re the traditional way of planting and they produce a much higher-quality wine.’ Matteo turned off the road towards his uncle’s house. This was going to be the trickiest part of the day.
‘We’ll park by the house and walk down to the clinic and I’ll show you around before everyone gets there. My uncle and aunt won’t forgive me if we don’t pop in to say hello, but we won’t stay long.’
* * *
Matteo seemed slightly on edge, but he beamed warmly at his uncle and aunt when they appeared to say hello and then disappeared just as promptly. He led her and William around the large, stone-built house, pointing out the path that led through the fields and down to the village.
An elderly man seemed to pop up out of nowhere, walking briskly towards them through the vines. His hair was white, his face lined from a lifetime in the sun, but his back was straight and his dark eyes had something of the melting quality of Matteo’s. He hugged Matteo as if he hadn’t seen him for the last twenty years.
‘This is Nannu Alberto.’
‘That’s grandfather? In Italian?’
‘Sicilian...’ Matteo winced slightly as Nannu Alberto picked up her hand and planted a kiss on it, then kissed her on both cheeks and finished up with a hug. Then he turned his attention to William, shaking his hand gravely and beaming with glee when the boy introduced himself in Italian.
Nannu Alberto turned to Matteo, berating him about something and gesturing towards Rose. Maybe she’d done something wrong. ‘What did he say?’
Matteo shook his head. ‘He said that he understands why I haven’t been to see them for such a long time. Only a woman so beautiful could be a good enough excuse for me to neglect my elderly relatives so shamefully. Don’t listen to him...’
‘I think it’s very sweet of him. Grazie.’ Rose smiled at Nannu Alberto, and he kissed her hand again.
‘It’s been three weeks...’ Matteo was obviously still put out by the suggestion and Nannu Alberto laughed, nudging him.
‘You will see the vines?’ The question was directed at William and he looked up at Rose, a silent plea on his face.
‘Go on, then.’ She let go William’s hand and he started to run towards the rows of bushes.
‘Nannu Alberto...’ Matteo frowned at his grandfather and the old man gave him an exaggerated shrug, before turning to follow William.
‘I’m sorry. I’ll get him back...’
‘Why? We have time, don’t we?’ Matteo seemed to have something on his mind, but for the life of her Rose couldn’t think what it was. ‘Or does your grandfather skin little children and eat them for breakfast?’
‘No, nothing like that. William will be perfectly all right with him. He might get a bit dirty.’
‘That’s all right. It’ll wash off, and I’ve got a clean T-shirt in my bag for him.’ She bit her lip. Matteo’s aunt and uncle had been a little standoffish and perhaps they didn’t like him bringing her here. ‘If your aunt doesn’t mind my taking him in the house for a moment.’
‘No...no, of course not. I just thought...’ Matteo shrugged.
‘Would it be all right if you thought in the shade?’ She pointed to some chairs, set around a table under the spreading branches of an orange tree.
‘Yes, that might not be a bad idea. They could be a while.’
Matteo sat down, dropping his panama hat onto the table. Rose waited, but it seemed that he wasn’t going to volunteer the reason for his apparent chagrin.
‘Is there something the matter?’
He shook his head, staring out at the vines. ‘No, I...’
She tried again. ‘It’s very good of Nannu Alberto to show William the vines. Look what a good time he’s having.’
‘Okay.’ He held his hands up. ‘All right, I was just hoping you wouldn’t find my family too...suffocating.’
‘They barely said hello...’ A thought struck Rose. ‘Did you warn them off?’
‘I just mentioned...’ He stopped short, as his aunt appeared around the corner of the house, walking across to them with four glasses of lemonad
e on a tray. She smiled hesitantly at Rose, putting the tray quickly down onto the table.
This was all getting a bit much. Rose jumped to her feet.
‘Grazie...um... Home-made?’
‘Of course it is.’ Matteo’s voice came from behind her, translating her words and then providing the answer before his aunt could say anything.
Rose responded with her brightest smile and Matteo’s aunt got the message. A brief glance at Matteo, which carried a hint of I-told-you-so, and then a frank, warm smile for Rose that melted into a kiss on both cheeks, before she retreated back to the house.
‘All right. You’ve made your point.’ Matteo was looking a little sheepish.
‘Seems I needed to.’ Rose plumped herself back down on the chair. ‘What on earth possessed you, Matteo?’
A brief quirk of his lips and Rose glared at him. ‘Come on. Give. You can’t just warn all of your family about me and then shrug it off. What must they think of me?’
‘If they’re thinking anything, it’ll be about me and I imagine I’ll be hearing all about it in the not too distant future.’
‘After I’ve gone home, you mean? You’ll be talking about me after I’ve gone home?’ Actually, she didn’t mind that so very much. The idea that Matteo might even think about her when she wasn’t there sent a thrill racing towards her fingertips.
‘No...’ His denial didn’t ring true, and he heaved a sigh. ‘When I was living in London, I brought my partner and her children over here for a couple of weeks. She hated it, and said that my family were smothering her. Couldn’t wait to get back to Battersea.’
‘Really?’ Rose didn’t want to say anything against someone that Matteo had clearly cared about, but the woman sounded insane. ‘I suppose... It’s an approach.’
One that had obviously hurt him deeply. But that must have been years ago now. Why was he still holding on to it? She wanted to ask but dared not.
‘She made me choose.’ His finger traced the condensation on the outside of one of the glasses. He seemed deep in thought.
‘She made you...what?’ Maybe Matteo had chosen Sicily and his partner had chosen England. She could see how that must have been a problem, but surely they could both have compromised.
‘My family or her. When my grandmother became ill, and I wanted to spend some time back here, she made me choose. I had to cut all ties with my family back here or never see her again.’
Rose’s head began to swim. Maybe it was the heat, but a mouthful of ice-cold lemonade didn’t seem to clear it. ‘How long did you intend to spend here?’
‘A month or so. No more.’
‘And you were going back to England afterwards?’
‘Yes.’
Why? There must be something more to this. Rose was trying to frame a question in her head, but it must have already been written on her face.
‘Angela had been in a difficult relationship with the father of her two children, he’d played around a lot, lied to her. She had to know where I was all the time, and she had to believe that she was the only person in my life. I understood that, and I tried to reassure her.’
‘So it wasn’t really about your family at all, then. It was all about what she wanted.’ Rose bit her lip. The only thing she was good at in a relationship was messing up, and she was hardly in a position to comment on anyone else’s. Just listening would have been the better option.
‘I suppose not.’ He shrugged. ‘But that was the choice she gave me and I took it. It wouldn’t have mattered so much, her jealousy was a hard thing to take and it was pretty much over between us by then. But the kids...’
‘She stopped you from seeing them?’ Rose couldn’t keep the shock from her voice. She’d tried so hard to involve Alec in William’s life and had failed miserably. The idea of denying children a relationship, just because the one between adults had broken down, was unthinkable.
‘Yeah. I knew that a break-up would be hard on them, and I’d reckoned that if it was inevitable it was best that they didn’t have to watch Angela and I tearing each other to pieces. But I hadn’t seen that one coming. She wouldn’t let them take my calls, and ignored my emails and letters. I went back to England, hoping I could sort things out, and at least let them know that it was all my fault and none of theirs, but she shut the door in my face.’
She could understand how that would have hurt him. Matteo wouldn’t have been able to resist becoming a great stepdad to his partner’s children. He wouldn’t be able to comprehend what had happened. And it had soured everything for him. Even his relationship with his family had this shadow hanging over it.
‘It was my choice. I made it, and I have to live with it.’
It didn’t sound as if he lived with it very easily. And however many objections Matteo put up, there was one thing she needed to do.
She stood up, putting her half-empty glass back on the tray. ‘Do you think Nannu Alberto will show me around? If I take his lemonade to him?’
Matteo grinned suddenly. ‘I think I’d have to wrestle him to the ground to stop him. And I wouldn’t like to try that, he’d probably get the better of me, even now.’
‘Good.’ Rose didn’t wait for him to argue, but picked up the tray and made for Nannu Alberto and William, who seemed to be grubbing around at the foot of one of the bushes with the express purpose of making themselves as dusty as possible. She heard Matteo’s footsteps behind her and smiled.
‘Here...’ She’d left her bag, with her sunhat in it, under the orange tree, and he dropped his own Panama hat onto her head. ‘The sun’s pretty strong.’
Rose stopped short. Her hands were full with the tray, and Matteo had slipped his hands into his pockets, clearly not about to take it from her. ‘I can only see my feet...’
He tipped the hat a little further back. ‘Better?’
‘Much. This is a comfortable hat.’
‘Looks a lot better on you than it does on me.’ Matteo grinned, putting his hands back into his pockets.
Nannu Alberto dusted William down at their approach, taking his lemonade and drinking it down. He showed them the vines, his workworn hands brushing the leaves tenderly. Then they walked down to the fermentation hall, a high, brick-built structure with white-painted render, half-hidden in a fold in the hill.
William put his hands over his ears at the din of the machinery, and they were hurried through the bottling plant and into the quieter fermentation area, where Matteo showed them the enormous stainless steel vats.
‘After the harvest the grapes come here, to be de-stemmed and crushed. Then the wine’s fermented in these vats.’
‘I’m a bit disappointed. Whenever I think of a winery, I think cobwebs and huge wooden casks.’ The place was spotless, all shining metal and automation.
‘We have those too.’ Matteo and Nannu Alberto grinned at each other, and led them through into another huge hall. Row upon row of wooden casks, stacked in racks, reached up to the ceiling.
‘You will try the wine.’ Nannu Alberto made it sound like an ultimatum rather than an offer and disappeared between the casks before Rose could answer.
‘You could try asking...’ Matteo called after him and received no reply. Rose tugged at his sleeve.
‘He’s very kind, and I’d love to try some. Do I have to spit it out afterwards?’
Matteo shrugged. ‘You can if you want. I prefer to drink my wine.’
Nannu Alberto returned with three glasses, a couple of mouthfuls of wine in each. When Rose took a sip, she was aware of two pairs of eyes watching her intently. She nodded, savouring the taste on her tongue, and Matteo and his grandfather both smiled at the same time.
They stopped on their way back to the house under the huge, spreading orange tree. Wordlessly, Nannu Alberto reached up, picking four ripe mandarins and handing three t
o Matteo, who gave one each to William and Rose and started to peel one for himself. As William smelled his, Rose remembered that neither of them could tell which fruits were ripe. It seemed that Nannu Alberto had been picking fruit for Matteo ever since he was a little boy, and he still did now.
‘This variety ripens much later than most mandarins. And they’re very sweet.’
It had been on the tree just a few moments ago, and the fruit was not only sweet and juicy but it smelled and tasted more like an orange than anything that Rose had ever experienced. William was struggling to peel his and Nannu Alberto took it from him, carefully stripping the pith from each segment before he gave it to William as they walked towards the house.
‘This is what we are made from.’
Matteo chuckled. ‘What you are made from, Nannu?’
‘Pfft.’ Nannu Alberto dismissed the assertion with a wave of his hand and an observation in Italian. Rose raised her eyebrows and Matteo translated.
‘He says that when you are born in Sicily you’re the fruit of the land, and you’re made by it. No one can get away from that.’ Matteo added his own postscript. ‘That’s only partly true.’
‘Which part?’
‘In Rome or London, even when I’m in Palermo, I’m made from a lot of different things. Logic mostly. But here....’
‘You were born here?’
‘In this house. My parents were living in Rome, but they’d come to stay over the summer. Nannu Alberto reckons that my blood’s in the land, along with that of generations of Di Salvos.’ He showed her the thin white line of a scar that ran across the side of his hand.
‘How did you do that?’
‘With a pruning knife. Nannu Alberto treated it as if it was some kind of rite of passage, and Nanna Maria gave him a piece of her mind and took me to the doctor to have it stitched.’
‘So you have roots. That’s not a bad thing, is it?’
‘No. Anyway, I made my choice.’ A dark shadow passed momentarily across his face but was banished in a moment.
That was the truth of it. The choice had been agonising to make and it had shaped much of what Matteo had done since. Devoting himself to his work and his community, as if anything less would have devalued his reasons for being here and betrayed the children who had been hurt by his leaving.
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