Rinaldo nodded. ‘You can’t. And we’re not.’
‘Surely there must be some Italians who are moderate and reasonable?’ Alex said in a teasing voice.
He smiled. ‘There may be one or two, hiding in corners.’
‘Probably ashamed to show their faces.’
‘Undoubtedly. Italy was built on passion, not reason. Moderation didn’t create those great buildings and great paintings that you’ve seen in Florence. Passion created them, and everything else worth having, food, wine, beauty-you will find none of these sitting behind a desk.’
‘Meaning me. But isn’t there also a kind of beauty in good order?’
She had expected him to brush this aside, but to her surprise he nodded.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘But not if it’s the only thing in your life.’
She would have defended herself against this slur, but somehow the words wouldn’t come. What came into her mind instead was the picture of herself at her desk, at her computer, hurrying from one meeting to another in a grey, air-conditioned building from which fresh air, and anything else that was natural, had been shut out.
And the carefully scheduled time with David. All part of her life’s plan. Good order. But beauty?
The sun was throwing out its last fires of gold and crimson, drifting slowly down the sky. Its glow fell on her, and on Rinaldo. She felt not only its warmth but a feeling of contentment.
It might be wiser to resist that feeling, she thought drowsily. But for the moment she had no will to resist.
Far off in the distance she could see something moving. After a moment she made out Gino’s car, heading towards them, growing larger every moment.
When he was close to the house he waved before sweeping around to the side and vanishing.
She liked Gino, but at this moment she found herself wishing he had stayed away a little longer. He could only be an intrusion in the magical atmosphere that was pervading her.
How strange, she thought, that it should be Rinaldo who was here with her, part of the magic. The man who had shown her only his harsh, formidable side was now relaxed and pleasant.
To her relief, Gino didn’t join them at once. Teresa served fruits in syrup followed by black, sweet coffee.
‘Now here is beauty,’ Alex agreed.
‘I’ll tell Teresa you said so. She will appreciate it.’
‘I’ll tell her myself, just before I leave.’
‘Yes,’ he said after a moment.
‘I must be going soon, I suppose. I want an early night, to be ready for Enrico’s funeral tomorrow. His family are making a big “do” of it.’
‘Aren’t you part of his family?’
‘Well yes, but you know what I mean. The people who live out here and knew him. And let me tell you, they don’t consider me as part of the family. They’re as angry with me as you are.’
‘I’m not angry with you, as I hope I’ve made clear today. Belluna has gained much prosperity from the money my father borrowed, and it’s your right to be repaid.’
Alex wrinkled her nose.
‘I don’t like talk of “rights”,’ she said, wondering at herself even as she said it.
In the world she had left behind, the world of desks and good order, rights were the markers by which everything was organised. You were entitled to this, you weren’t entitled to that. And so you always knew where you stood in the universe.
But here the universe was a flood of gold spread over the land. And rights seemed unimportant.
‘I suppose Enrico’s funeral will turn out the same way your father’s did,’ she said. ‘The vultures will converge on me.’
‘I think I have a way to prevent that happening,’ Rinaldo mused.
Before she could ask what he meant Gino appeared, greeting her eagerly, kissing her cheek.
‘I’m so glad,’ he said. ‘When Rinaldo told me, I couldn’t believe it.’
‘Told you what?’
‘Why, that you’d come to stay, of course.’
‘But I haven’t come to stay. I’m about to return to Florence, if someone will give me a lift.’
In the silence Gino looked at Rinaldo, who shrugged with an air that was almost sheepish. At any other time this would have amused her, but now a rising tide of suspicion was overtaking her, making her get to her feet to confront him.
‘But I just finished bringing your bags,’ Gino protested.
She whirled on him.
‘And why would you do that?’
‘Because Rinaldo said-hey, brother, you wouldn’t! Would you?’
‘Would you like to bet money on that?’ Alex seethed.
‘Look,’ Rinaldo said, ‘it’s right for you to stay here awhile, and learn to understand this place.’
‘OK. That makes sense. But why couldn’t you have simply asked me?’
‘You might have said no,’ he declared flatly, as if the question were too obvious to need an answer.
‘I am saying no. I absolutely refuse to stay here now.’
‘But Teresa is in your room right now, unpacking your bags,’ Gino said in dismay.
‘And that’s another thing,’ Alex told him furiously. ‘How did you come to have my luggage? I never packed it.’
‘The hotel did that,’ Gino said. ‘They had everything ready for me.’
‘And who told them to?’
Gino held up his hands, backing away as if to say that this wasn’t his fault.
‘I did,’ Rinaldo said. ‘I called them and said you weren’t returning, and would they please have your things ready.’
‘And did you pay my bill as well, or weren’t they worried about that little matter?’
‘You may recall that you signed a credit card docket when you arrived. It was simply a matter of putting it through. But I doubt if they would have worried anyway. The manager is an old friend of mine.’
‘And would have jumped to obey your orders?’ Alex said angrily.
Rinaldo shrugged. ‘There was no need to give him orders. He knows I can be trusted. And, as I said, he already had your signature.’
‘Suppose I want to dispute something on the bill?’
‘You can do that tomorrow.’
‘I’ll do it now. I refuse to stay here. You must be quite mad.’ She faced Gino, eyes glinting. ‘I thought better of you.’
‘But I didn’t know, truly,’ he pleaded. ‘I thought you’d agreed.’
‘Will you take me back to Florence? Or must I call for a taxi?’
‘Of course I’ll take you back,’ he said at once.
‘Forget that idea,’ Rinaldo growled.
‘I won’t forget it,’ Gino said firmly. ‘Rinaldo, what are you thinking about?’
‘I’m thinking about how all this is going to end,’ he shouted.
‘And making everyone dance around like puppets on the end of your strings,’ Alex snapped. ‘What did you think I’d do when I found out? Tamely submit to your decree and let you take me prisoner? If you did, you were wrong.’
‘Take you prisoner? Don’t be melodramatic.’
‘What else would you call it?’
‘I’d call it taking a lady prisoner,’ Gino observed. ‘Alex, I’ll drive you back to Florence.’
At that defiance Rinaldo flung him a look that Alex never forgot. It contained rage, betrayal, disbelief, and a curious sense of hurt that she couldn’t help seeing, even then.
‘Gino,’ Rinaldo warned, ‘don’t take anyone’s side against me.’
‘Then don’t force a battle about this,’ Gino said in a harsher voice than Alex had heard from him before. ‘It’s gone too far. You’re always the same. You lose your temper and you forget everything else. Too many people jump to do as you say, but Alex doesn’t. That’s what’s got you mad.’
Rinaldo didn’t reply in words, but his look was terrible.
‘Do as you like,’ he said curtly.
Gino swung around to face Alex.
‘I don’t want you to leave,’ he said quietly, ‘but if that’s your wish, I’m ready to take you back now.’