Francesco had a brooding quality, as though his mind carried some burden. Like the other two, he greeted her warmly, but then said, ‘I’d better go now, Mamma. I want to get home before Celia.’
‘Doesn’t she ever get suspicious about how often that happens?’ Hope asked.
‘Always, and she tells me to stop, but-’ He gave a resigned shrug. ‘I do it anyway.’ To Ferne he added, ‘My wife is blind, and she gets very cross if she thinks I’m fussing over her, but I can’t help it.’
‘Go on home,’ Hope told him. ‘Just be sure you’re at the party tomorrow.’
He embraced her fondly and departed. Almost at once another car appeared and disgorged two young women. One was dark, and so gracefully beautiful that even her pregnancy-bump couldn’t detract from her elegance. The other was fair, pretty in a way that was sensible rather than exotic, and was accompanied by an eager toddler.
‘This is my wife, Olympia,’ Primo said, drawing the pregnant woman forward to meet Ferne.
‘And this is my wife, Polly,’ Ruggiero said, indicating the fair young woman.
At this distance she could see that Polly too was pregnant, possibly about five months. Her husband’s attitude to her seemed protective, and again Ferne was pervaded by the feeling of contentment that she’d had earlier. Just being here, among people so happy to be together, was enough to create it.
It was soon time for lunch. Hope led the way indoors to inspect the meal Elena was preparing, taste things and give her opinion. In this she was joined not only by her daughters-in-law but her sons, who savoured the dishes and offered advice freely-sometimes too freely, as their mother informed them.
‘So it’s true what they say about Italian men,’ Ferne observed, amused.
‘What do they say about us?’ Dante murmured in her ear. ‘I’m longing to know.’
‘Why, that you’re all fantastic cooks, of course. What did you think I meant?’
He gave a disillusioned sigh. ‘Nothing, nothing. Yes, we’re all interested in cooking. Not like Englishmen, who eat sausage and mash on every occasion.’ Suddenly he looked closely at her face. ‘What is it?’ he asked. ‘Why are you looking troubled?’
‘I just suddenly thought-perhaps I should telephone the consulate. They might have some news by now.’
‘This afternoon I’ll drive you into Naples and we’ll visit the consulate here. They can get onto the Milan consulate. Now, let’s forget boring reality and concentrate on the important things-enjoying ourselves.’
‘Yes, let’s,’ she said happily.
Dante was as good as his word, borrowing Toni’s car after lunch and driving her down the hill through the streets of the old town until they reached their destination near the coast.
There the news was bleak. Neither her passport nor her credit cards had been recovered.
‘Considering how quickly they were reported, it looks as though someone made off with them,’ Dante observed. ‘But hopefully they won’t be any use to them.’
‘We can arrange a temporary passport,’ the young woman at the desk said. ‘But it will take a few days. There’s a kiosk over there for the photograph.’
‘No need, I’ll take it,’ Dante said. Eyeing Ferne’s bag, he added, ‘If you’ll lend me your camera.’
She handed it to him. ‘What made you so sure I had it?’
‘You told me you always had it. And the woman who was smart enough to record her lover’s infidelity wouldn’t miss a trick like this.’
She showed him how to work it, and they spent a few minutes out in the sun while she turned this way and that at his command.
‘Pull your blouse down this side,’ he said. ‘You’ve got pretty shoulders; let’s see them. Good. Now, shake your head so that your hair fluffs up.’
‘This is no good for passport pictures,’ she objected.
He grinned. ‘Who said anything about passport pictures? Maybe I have a wicked purpose of my own.’
Back inside, they switched the camera to ‘view’ and showed the results to the woman at the desk, who regarded them with saintly patience.
‘None of these are suitable. I think you should use the kiosk,’ she suggested.
‘We could have done that to start with,’ Ferne pointed out.
‘But then my wicked purpose wouldn’t have been fulfilled,’ Dante said unanswerably. ‘Come on; go into that kiosk and take some shots that make you look dreary and virtuous.’
‘Are you suggesting that I’m not dreary and virtuous?’
‘Which part of that question do you want me to answer?’
‘Let’s just get on with it,’ she said hastily.
When the formalities were complete, Dante took her to a café by the beach and they relaxed over coffee.
‘If you think the villa’s a madhouse now,’ he said, ‘wait until tomorrow when the rest of the family get here.’
‘There’s quite a lot of them, isn’t there? Six, I think Hope said.’
‘That’s right, although they don’t all live around here. Luke and Minnie will be coming from Rome. Justin and Evie from England, with Mark, Justin’s son, and their baby twins.’
A terrible thought struck Ferne. ‘Where will they be staying?’
‘At the villa, of course.’
‘And you’re there too, so whose room have I been given? Someone will end up sleeping on the sofa because of me, and I can’t have that. I’ve got to go.’
‘And stay where-in a hotel? With no money or paperwork?’
‘Well, if you could lend me some money I’ll pay it back…’
Dante shook his head firmly. ‘Sorry, no. To tell the hotel that you’re a trustworthy person, when actually I don’t know if you are, would be most improper. And we must always behave with propriety, mustn’t we?’
Despite her agitation, she couldn’t help laughing.
‘You,’ she said in a slow, deliberate voice, ‘wouldn’t recognise propriety if it came up and whacked you on the nose-which I am strongly tempted to do right now.’
‘Curses!’ he said theatrically. ‘She’s seen through me. All right, I’ll admit my true motive. I plan to keep you here, a prisoner, subject to my will. Cash would help you to escape, which doesn’t suit my evil purpose.’
‘I wonder if I can guess your evil purpose,’ she said dryly.
‘Well, I’m not exactly subtle, am I? But do I need to be? You’re in my power.’
‘In your dreams!’ she chuckled.
‘In those too,’ he said with a yearning look.
‘No, I didn’t mean-Oh, you know what I meant.’
‘Well, a man can dream, can’t he?’ he asked, eyeing her significantly.
‘He can dream all he likes, as long as he doesn’t confuse dreams with reality,’ she said, also significantly. ‘And you didn’t answer my question. Whose room have I been given?’
He didn’t reply, but his mouth twisted.
‘Oh no, please, don’t tell me…?’
‘If you feel that way, we could always share it,’ he suggested.
‘Will you just stop, please?’
‘All right, all right, don’t eat me. You can’t blame a man for trying.’
‘I can. I do.’
‘You wouldn’t if you could sit where I’m sitting, looking at you.’
She gave up. How could you talk sense to a man who had that wicked glint in his eyes?
But it could be fun finding out.
CHAPTER THREE
‘IF YOU’RE going to reject me, I’ll just have to console myself with those pictures of you that I took,’ Dante remarked.
‘I deleted them,’ she said at once.
‘Like hell you did! If you didn’t delete the evidence of your lover misbehaving, you aren’t going to wipe out the pics of you looking like every man’s dream of sexy.’
‘Will you stop talking to me like that?’
‘Why should I?’
What could she say? Because it gives me a fizz of excitement that I’m not ready for yet.
He was a clever man, she reckoned; he made it clear beyond doubt that he was sexually attracted to her, yet with such a light touch that she could relax in his company, free from pressure. She didn’t doubt that he would jump into her bed in an instant, if she gave him the barest hint. But without that hint he would sit here talking nonsense, biding his time.