The Italian Matchmaker (23 page)

Romina was not one to be kept waiting. She tapped her fingers on the desk and exclaimed in a very loud voice: ‘Is anyone going to help me or do I have to cry murder?’

The two
carabinieri
stopped chatting and turned to the woman. They swiftly looked her over, took in the expensive jewellery and clothes, and deduced that this was a lady used to getting what she wanted.

Eugenio murmured to his friend, ‘I’ll go.’ The other man pulled a face as if to say ‘on your head be it’, and made himself scarce. ‘
Signora
, I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting,’ he said, trying to restore credibility.

Romina swept her eyes over his creased blue uniform and fancy epaulettes. ‘There is obviously not a great deal of crime in Incantellaria,’ she commented disdainfully.

‘It’s quiet today, thank God,’ Eugenio replied. ‘Would you like to sit down?’

‘Yes, please,’ she replied, following him to a worn leather sofa and sitting down. Eugenio sat opposite in an armchair.

‘How can I help you?’ he asked.

‘My name is Signora Chancellor. I own the
palazzo
,’ she began. Eugenio sat up straight. ‘That’s woken you up.’

‘Palazzo Montelimone.’

‘The very same.’

‘I haven’t been up there for years,’ he muttered.

‘Well, that rules you out of our inquiry then.’

‘Inquiry?’

‘We have an intruder, Inspector . . . ?’

‘Inspector Amato,’ said Eugenio. The conversation was running away from him. ‘What sort of intruder?’

‘I think she’s a woman because she left a scarf behind and it smelled of perfume. Not the sort of perfume I would choose, nor the scarf for that matter.’

‘In the
palazzo
?’

‘No, in the folly. How well do you know the
palazzo
, Inspector?’

‘Well,’ he replied. ‘I had to go up there on many occasions in the past.’

‘Really?’

‘It was a ruin, but on clear nights you could see lights moving through the rooms.’

Romina tried to control her impatience. ‘Are you superstitious, Inspector?’

‘Not really, but there are enough people here who are.’

‘I know. The staff talk of ghosts. It’s quite ridiculous.’

He shrugged. ‘A town like this never forgets a history tainted with blood.’

‘How very melodramatic. So what did you make of those lights?’

‘We found nothing.’

‘Well, the light is back and I want you to look into it.’

He decided to humour her. She looked like the sort of woman who could create trouble if she felt she wasn’t being taken seriously. ‘Do you keep the folly locked?’

‘Yes, at all times. I have the only key. So, someone is either picking the lock or has a key that I’m not aware of.’

‘Have you thought about changing the lock?’

‘Of course, but my son wants to catch the intruder.’

‘I see.’ So, Luca the hero had to save the
palazzo
as well as Cosima. ‘Is there damage to the property?’

‘Not really. I don’t like to think of a stranger sleeping on the bed, though. It’s very unhygienic.’

‘No sign of a break-in?’

‘No.’

‘So your safety is not threatened?’

‘No, not yet.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘But, in a place like this, with the history you speak of, one can never be too sure.’

‘You don’t think it’s someone who works at the
palazzo
? A housekeeper, for example, or a gardener? Someone who bears a grudge?’

‘I’m a good judge of character, Inspector. I trust those who work for me. Besides, why would anyone bear a grudge? We’ve done nothing wrong. We simply bought a ruin and restored it to its former glory. What is the harm in that?’

‘It still sounds like an inside job to me.’

‘Well, it isn’t. I know the people I live with. Anyway, they have far too much good taste to own a scarf like that one.’

‘I’ll come and have a look if you like, but I suspect there’s not a great deal I can do. We don’t have the resources to guard the door full-time.’

‘So, I have to leave this to my son?’

‘From what I have heard, he is more than capable.’

‘I want you to come up all the same. Your presence will be very reassuring.’ There was nothing remotely reassuring about Inspector Amato.

Luca spent the afternoon playing hide-and-seek with his daughters before taking them and Sammy to Fiorelli’s for tea. Cosima was sitting at one of the round tables with Alba, deep in discussion. When she saw him, she smiled and waved.

‘What will it be today?’ she asked the children. ‘Ice-cream again?’ The girls nodded eagerly.

‘And one for Greedy,’ said Juno, wiggling her caterpillar into Cosima’s face.

Luca watched Alba. Was it possible that she was the intruder? Sneaking into the folly to feel close to her dead mother? Like Rosa, Alba was eye-catching with her dark hair and light grey eyes, and her wide, infectious smile. But, unlike her daughter, she had a ripeness that gave her beauty depth. He took a seat and Cosima asked Fiero to make the coffee while she sat and chatted. He lit a cigarette and lowered his voice to make sure they couldn’t be overheard.

‘Can I see you tonight?’

‘I’d like that.’

‘It’s impossible to look at you sitting there and not touch you.’

‘I bet you say that to all the girls,’ she teased.

‘I used to say it to all the girls, but I never meant it. Now I mean it from the very bottom of my heart.’

She laughed incredulously. ‘You’re half Italian.’

‘The other half is solid, reliable, trustworthy British.’

‘Where shall we go?’

‘Well, as you insist on keeping our friendship quiet, I suggest I pick you up at seven, we drive down the coast, find a little restaurant for dinner, then a pretty beach to walk along. Does that appeal to you?’

‘It sounds lovely.’

‘You won’t have trouble getting away?’

She shook her head. ‘They’re used to me disappearing for hours. I like being on my own. They know that.’

Fiero brought his coffee. Luca blew smoke rings and looked over to where the girls were playing with the local children, under Sammy’s watchful eye. They were laughing and joining in as if they were old friends. After a while Juno began to jump off the bollard with Greedy, throwing him into the air and catching him as she jumped.

‘Your children are enjoying themselves here,’ said Alba. ‘How long are they staying?’

‘Until Friday,’ Luca replied.

‘By the end of the week they will have made friends with all the children in Incantellaria,’ said Cosima. ‘They won’t want to leave.’

‘Where is their mother?’ Alba asked.

‘Taking a holiday with her boyfriend.’

‘Is he nice?’

‘Nice enough.’ Luca tried not to sound bitter.

‘Do you think they’ll marry?’

‘I hope so. She deserves to be happy.’

‘That’s very gracious of you.’

‘There’s no point harbouring grudges.’ He shrugged. ‘We have our daughters to think about. Their happiness is worth more than ours.’

‘I have a stepmother,’ said Alba. ‘I hated her while I was growing up. She wasn’t my sort. Far too strident and hearty. But in the end I accepted her. She wasn’t so bad. She gave me the best advice anyone had ever given me. On the strength of it I returned here. I’ve never regretted it.’

Luca remembered Fitzroy and his curiosity was aroused. ‘Was there anything to keep you in England?’ he asked carefully.

‘Oh, yes. I was on the brink of marrying a darling man. He was adorable, but sadly not enough for me.’ She took Cosima’s hand. ‘You see, I was in love with a little Italian girl who didn’t have a mother. We had grown very close. When I left her I missed her so much she burned a hole in my heart. A hole that no one else could fill because it was her shape alone.’ Cosima laughed at the familiar tale. Luca was beginning to see why Rosa was so jealous of her cousin. ‘So, I left him for you, Cosima. And I’ve never looked back.’

The ice-creams arrived and the girls ran back to eat them. Rosa appeared with Alessandro, who had been to the doctor with a stomach complaint. His eyes lit up when he saw the girls and his stomach-ache miraculously disappeared at the prospect of a bowl of ice-cream. Rosa was not pleased to see Cosima sitting at the table with Luca as if she were part of his family, but she recovered a little when Luca gave her a smile and asked after her son.

‘Children,’ she shrugged. ‘There’s always something.’

Cosima got up. ‘I’d better be going. Enjoy your ice-creams,’ she said to the children. She didn’t look at Luca for fear of provoking Rosa. He watched her walk off, admiring the gentle swing of her hips.

Francesco appeared from nowhere, skipping off after her, a bounce in his step that he hadn’t had before. They were so close they were almost touching, separated only by a fine wall of vibration, but she was unaware that the child she mourned was right beside her. As if he read his thoughts, Francesco turned, grinned at Luca, then waved.

Rosa frowned as Luca laughed. ‘What are you laughing at?’

‘Nothing. Just a thought that popped into my head.’

‘Aren’t you going to share it?’ She felt better now that her cousin had gone.

‘I don’t think you’d find it as funny as I do.’

‘Try me?’

‘Another time,’ he said, looking at his watch. ‘We’d better get going. It’ll soon be time for the girls’ bath.’

‘That’s okay,’ said Sammy. ‘It’s holiday. They can stay up a little later if you like.’

‘No. I need to get back too,’ he said, not noticing Rosa’s disappointment. All he could think about was Cosima and Francesco.

Cosima went into the church. She needed time alone to think, somewhere to clear her head of the conflicting thoughts that filled it. The guilt didn’t go away, but now she had something else to feel guilty about: her growing feelings for Luca.

She walked down the aisle, crossed herself in front of the altar, and took a seat. There were a few people walking around, looking at the glittering icons and frescoes, enjoying the serenity of the place. Cosima knelt and prayed for her son. She questioned Luca’s credibility in seeing Francesco. Not that she thought he was making it up: she trusted him to be honest. But she worried that he might have imagined him, or mistaken someone else’s child for hers. In spite of the evidence of the feather and the butterfly, and her own desire to believe, she feared some terrible disappointment would set her back to where she was before, alone and in despair.

She liked Luca. Love wasn’t a word she felt comfortable using. Love was a word for Francesco. If she admitted she was falling in love with Luca, she felt she would somehow be subtracting love from her son. Luca had transformed her life in such a short time. One moment she was in the sea, wanting to end it all; the next she was wearing pretty dresses and blushing under his sympathetic gaze. It made her feel uneasy, as if she were a schoolgirl again, playing truant. If she didn’t continue to mourn Francesco she was being a bad mother; she had taken her eye off him in life, and look what had happened. If she took her eye off him in death, then what? Did she deserve to be happy after her negligence? Would her guilt allow her to be happy?

These arguments jostled about in her head. If Francesco was dead, wasting her life in mourning wasn’t going to bring him back. If he was in spirit, as Luca maintained, surely he would want her to be happy. He clearly didn’t want her to die or he wouldn’t have sought out Luca and begged him to rescue her. Then the voice of guilt argued that she should dress herself in black and return to her state of mourning, where she felt comfortable. Where she belonged.

When she opened her eyes it took a moment for them to adjust. She put her hand on the floor to push herself up and saw a feather on the floor by the cushion. Like the one she had found on the candle table, it was long and white. Surely, this was not a coincidence.

She looked around. There were no birds in the church and if someone had put it there while she prayed she would have noticed. It certainly hadn’t been there when she sat down.

She walked unsteadily out of the church, the feather between her finger and thumb. She felt light-headed with joy. If this was a message from Francesco, then he must mean it was okay to see Luca. The feather was a blessing.

She sat on one of the benches in the square and watched the children playing. How she yearned to hold her son and feel his body against hers. How she longed to kiss his soft face and smell the familiar scent of his skin. She felt her eyes well with tears, then remembered Luca reassuring her that she was never alone. She stopped crying and twirled the feather around and around. If Luca was right, Francesco was beside her now, maybe sitting on this very bench.
If you’re here, my love, show yourself to me so that I can know for sure
.

When Rosa and Alessandro returned home, Eugenio was waiting for them on the terrace.

‘You’re home early,’ said Rosa, as Alessandro ran off to join his siblings in the garden.

‘I had a very interesting visit today from the woman who owns the
palazzo
.’

‘What did she want?’

‘She says someone’s been sleeping in the folly.’

‘For goodness sake, she’s mad.’

‘She wants me to go and check it out.’

‘What does she expect you to find?’

‘A woman.’

‘Why a woman?’

‘Because they found a woman’s scarf in there.’

‘Why would anyone want to go and sleep in there? It’s spooky.’

‘I think she just wants reassurance.’

‘Well, she’s found the right man, then,’ she said proudly.

‘There’s not a great deal I can do. She says her son wants to catch whoever it is, so she’s not going to change the lock.’