The Rinuccis: Carlo, Ruggiero & Francesco

‘Let’s not delay,’ he urged. ‘We know all we need to—’ ‘Darling, we know hardly anything about each other.’ ‘We know we love each other. What else is there?’ ‘In a perfect world, nothing. But, my dearest love, we’re not living in a fantasy,’ she pleaded. ‘We’re grown-up people in the real world, with real lives.’

‘Are you talking that nonsense about your age again? We’re the same age. We were the same age from the moment me met and loved each other, and we will always be the same. Why are you smiling?’

‘I love listening when you say things like that.’

‘But you think they’re just fancy words? Is that it?’

It was partly true, but she didn’t want to admit as much just yet.

‘What will it take to convince you?’ Carlo asked, moving closer in a way that suggested he was preparing for battle. ‘I don’t know. I expect you’ll think of something. You know me so well.’

‘Not as well as I’m going to. Why don’t we—?’

A muffled crash from the corridor outside made him tense and look up, muttering a soft curse as they heard laughter that sounded familiar.

‘He did say he was in the room facing yours, didn’t he?’

Carlo sighed.

‘Yes, but I hadn’t expected him back so soon.’

A female giggle reached them.

‘There’s the explanation,’ Carlo said. ‘He didn’t waste any time, did he?’

‘Don’t tell me you weren’t the same at twenty-one.’

‘Ah, well—never mind that. Hey, where are you going?’ For Della was getting up and pulling on her robe.

‘He might want to talk to me,’ she explained.

‘You mean he’ll want to find out if I’m still here.’ Carlo groaned, climbing reluctantly out of bed and wishing Sol to perdition.

As Carlo had expected, Sol strolled in casually, ready to make himself at home, but his eyes were alert, taking in the sight of his mother in a dressing gown, and Carlo in the day clothes he had hastily resumed.

Della felt blushingly self conscious. She and Sol had never discussed her male friends, but there had been no need. He had never before discovered her in such a compromising position.

‘Just checking that you’re all right,’ he told Della.

‘I’m fine, darling,’ she assured him. ‘But haven’t you left your friend on her own?’

‘Yes, I must go back to her now I’ve said goodnight to you.’

Now you’ve found out what you wanted to know, Carlo thought.

Aloud, he said, ‘She’s welcome to join us at the party tomorrow night.’

‘Yes, that would be nice,’ Sol said easily, rather as though he were conferring a favour.

‘Did you have a good evening?’ Della asked.

‘Fine, thanks. Although she’s an expensive little filly. So many shops stay open late in this town, and she seems to think that I’m made of money.’

‘I wonder how she got that idea?’ Carlo observed, to nobody in particular.

‘But you managed?’ Della said quickly.

‘Yes—except that we came back in a cab, and I don’t have quite enough to pay the fare…’

‘All right,’ she said, taking some money from her bag. ‘Go and give him this.’

From the corridor outside came a girl’s voice, calling, ‘Solly—’

‘Coming, sweetheart,’ he called back. Then something seemed to strike him, and he tried to return the money to Della. ‘Mum, I can’t leave her alone. Would you mind—?’

‘Yes, she would,’ Carlo said crossly. ‘Your mother’s not going to get dressed just to save you a journey downstairs. Do it yourself.’

‘Hey, who are you to—?’

‘Don’t waste my time arguing,’ Carlo said, seizing his shoulders and turning Sol to face the door. ‘Go down there and pay the fare. Or else—’

‘Carlo—’ Della was plucking at his arm. ‘There’s no need—’

‘I think there’s every need. Go downstairs, Sol. Now!’

‘Look here—’

‘Clear off!’

Thrusting him out into the corridor, Carlo locked the door behind him and stood with his back to it, daring Della to object.

‘You’re not going to defend his behaviour, are you?’ he asked.

‘No, but—’

‘Expecting you to go down there to run his errands? I don’t think so. What’s so funny?’

Della controlled her laughter long enough to say, ‘But I was only going to call Reception, ask them to pay and put it on my bill. I had no intention of going downstairs.’

Carlo’s face showed his chagrin.

‘I suppose I made a clown of myself?’ he groaned.

‘No, of course not. I think it’s wonderful of you to defend me. Sometimes Sol does go a bit too far.’

‘Only sometimes?’

‘All right, I’ve spoilt him. But for a long time it was just the two of us. Still, I guess I’ve got to learn to let go. He’ll make a success of his life and he won’t need me any more.’

Carlo could have told her that she was worrying about nothing, since Sol had no intension of releasing her from his demands. But he didn’t want to discuss it now. It was better to take her into his arms and forget the world.

Toni Rinucci was waiting for his wife in the doorway of their room.

‘I hope you’re ready to come to bed now,’ he said, as she reached the top of the stairs. ‘You’ve been working all day, and tomorrow you’ll be working again, if I know you.’

‘Of course. Our sons have a birthday, and naturally I wish to celebrate. This will be a special birthday.’

‘You say that every year.’

‘But this year is different.’

‘You say that every year, too,’ he said fondly, beginning to undo her dress at the back.

‘Bringing someone like Della Hadley to a family party changes everything.’

‘Someone like? You’ve met her?’

‘No, but I have learned how to use the internet. She’s a television producer with a big reputation.’

‘But surely Carlo told us that? He said she was planning a series and wanted him to be part of it, so he was taking her around to find inspiration.’

‘He didn’t need to be with her night and day, for over a week. Does that sound like an audition?’ Hope demanded with a touch of irony. ‘You think he’s been sleeping with her to get the job?’

‘Perhaps he hasn’t been sleeping with her?’ Toni suggested mildly, but backed down under his wife’s withering look.

‘This is Carlo we’re talking about,’ she reminded him.

‘True—I forgot. But surely she can’t be very young? Did you find out her age on the net?’

‘Not exactly, but it mentioned she began to make her name a full ten years ago, so she must be mid to late thirties. Toni, I just know what this woman is like. To have made such a success in a man’s world she must be a domineering, pushy careerist, who has contrived to beguile Carlo out of his senses.’

‘But all our daughters-in-law are career women,’ he protested. ‘Evie still does her translating, Olympia practically runs one of Primo’s factories here in Naples, and Minnie is a lawyer. Luke even moved to Rome to be near her rather than asking her to come here.’

‘Yes, but—’ Hope struggled to put into words her instinctive misgivings about this strange woman. ‘I don’t know—it’s just that something tells me that she will bring bad times into this house.’

‘Now you are being foolish,’ he said fondly.

‘I wish I could believe that you are right.’

‘Come to bed.’

Myra, Sol’s girlfriend, whom Della met next morning, proved to be much as expected: pretty, empty-headed, slightly grasping, but mainly good-natured. She was a native Neapolitan, and greeted the announcement that she was to go to the Villa Rinucci with a wide-eyed delight that said everything about the reputation of the Rinucci family.

As Carlo’s car only seated two, a vehicle was sent down from the villa to collect Sol and Myra, which was a relief even to Della. It gave her a chance to talk to Carlo on the drive.

She was wearing the black cocktail dress, and knew she looked her best. Carlo was smarter than she had ever seen him, in a dinner jacket and black bow tie, his shaggy locks actually reduced to some sort of order. He explained this aberration by saying that otherwise his mother would make him sorry he’d been born.

‘Don’t tell me you’re scared of her?’ Della laughed.

‘Terrified,’ he said cheerfully. ‘We all are. We were raised to be under a woman’s thumb, never to answer her back, always to let her have the last word—that sort of thing. I come “ready-made hen-pecked”. You’ll find that very useful.’

Since this was a clear reference to a future marriage, she diplomatically made no direct reply.

‘Tell me about your family,’ she said.

‘You wouldn’t be changing the subject, by any chance?’ he asked lightly.

‘I might be. Maybe a man who’s ready-made hen-pecked doesn’t appeal to me.’

‘You’d prefer to do your own hen-pecking?’

‘Any woman would. That way she can ensure that the product is customised to her personal requirements.’

‘True. I hadn’t thought of that. I suppose reducing him to a state of total subjection is half the fun.’

‘Absolutely.’

‘In that case, my darling, you may find me a bit of a disappointment. I’ve been your devoted slave from the start, and I don’t think I could manage anything else.’

‘But suppose one night you come home disgracefully late and I’m waiting with a rolling pin? Surely you’re going to defend yourself?’

‘The situation would never arise. If I was out late you’d be with me, and we’d be disgraceful together.’

‘You mean you’re not going to fight me?’ she demanded in mock horror.

‘I don’t think I’d know how,’ he replied meekly. ‘I was raised not to stand up to the boss lady.’

‘So you won’t be my lord and master?’

‘Mio dio, no!’

‘Come, come! Be a man.’

‘If that’s what “being a man” means, I’ll settle for being a mouse—as long as I’m your mouse.’

There was simply no way of answering this lunatic, she thought, her lips twitching. He could make her laugh whenever he pleased, reducing her defences to nothing.

But then he added quietly, ‘I’ve never had much use for the kind of man who feels he has to bully a woman before he can feel manly.’

His answer brought her right back into the danger area from which she’d tried to escape with humour, reminding her that it was his combination of quiet strength and gentleness that she found truly irresistible. The blazing sexual attraction that united them was only a cover. If it should die, the love would live on.

Glancing at his profile as he drove, she saw things she had missed before. The angle emphasised the firmness of his jaw, so intriguingly at odds with the meek character he’d teasingly assumed. It was at odds, too, with his easygoing nature, which she now realised was deceptive. They had never quarrelled beyond small spats that lasted five minutes, and she had almost come to think that he could never quarrel, never be really angry. The contours of his face told a different story, of a man with the self-control and generosity to keep his temper in check. But the temper was there.

The car slowed to let somebody cross ahead of them, and he took advantage of the moment to glance at her. What he saw brought a smile to his face, and she realised with a qualm that it was the smile of a supremely happy lover, full of confidence, with no doubts of his coming victory.

If she could have stopped the car and disillusioned him before his blissful dream grew stronger, she would have done so. But that was impossible, so she merely said, ‘Tell me about the people I’m going to meet tonight.’

She was an only child, as both her parents had been. So she had no experience of a large family, and was curious about Carlo’s. He’d previously told her about them, making them sound like a big, booming clan who were fun to be with. Now he observed that they would have dominated every part of his life if he’d allowed it.

‘That’s why I have my own apartment,’ he said. ‘So has Ruggiero, and so did Primo and Luke before they married. I adore the lot of them, but I need a place where I can behave as badly as I like.’

He spoke of the whole family, but one look at Carlo’s mother told Della whose scrutiny he was really avoiding.

As they turned into the courtyard people streamed out of the villa to stand on the terrace, watching the car. Studying them quickly, Della saw a man and woman in their sixties, five younger men and two young women. They were all smiling broadly, and the smiles changed to roars of approval as Carlo waved at them.

‘So you came back,’ yelled one of the men. ‘We thought you’d vanished for ever.’

‘You mean we hoped he’d vanished for ever.’

More laughter, back-slapping. The man who’d said this bore a definite resemblance to Carlo, and Della guessed that this was his twin, Ruggiero.

Hope and Toni Rinucci came forward, and Della knew that she was under scrutiny. Hope saw everything. Although she did nothing so rude as to stare. Her welcome to Della was courtesy itself, her smile perfect, exactly judged.

And yet there was something missing, some final touch of warmth. Della returned her greeting, said what was proper, but her heart was not engaged any more than Hope’s.

She wasn’t sure if Carlo had noticed this, for everyone’s attention was distracted by the arrival of Sol and Myra, who’d been travelling just behind them.

Della introduced her son, and caught Hope’s startled expression at the sight of this grown up young man. After one quick glance at Della her smile became determinedly empty, as though she would die before letting the world know her real feelings.

Myra caused a sensation, being eye-catchingly attired in a dress that was low at the front, lower at the back, and high in the hem. It practically wasn’t there at all, Della thought, amused, and what little there was shrieked ‘good-time girl’.

More relatives appeared—Toni’s brothers and sisters, aunts, cousins—until the whole world seemed to be filled with Rinuccis. Carlo gave her a glance in which helplessness and amusement were mixed, before seizing her hand and plunging in.

Della knew she was under inspection. Everyone behaved perfectly, but there was always that little flicker of interest at the moment of introduction. She became adept at following the unspoken thoughts.

So this is the woman Carlo’s making a big deal about.

Not bad looking in that dress—but surely too old for him?

Once she found Hope’s eyes on her, full of anxiety. The older woman lowered her eyelids at once, but the truth could not be concealed.

A few minutes later she sought Della out, placed a glass of champagne in her hand, and said, laughing, ‘I’ve wanted to meet you ever since I learned all about you on the Internet. When Carlo told me he knew a celebrity I was so excited.’

So Hope had been checking up on her, Della thought wryly.

‘I must congratulate you on your extraordinary career,’ Hope continued. ‘It must be so hard to succeed in what is still, after all, a man’s world.’

‘It is sometimes a struggle, but there are plenty of enjoyable moments,’ Della said in an even voice.

‘I’m sure it must be very nice to be the one giving orders and having them obeyed,’ Hope said. ‘It’s a pleasure that women seldom experience.’

I’ll bet it’s a pleasure you’ve often experienced, Della thought. She was beginning to get Hope’s measure. It took one bossy woman to know another.

Dancing had started. Myra twirled by with Ruggiero, which seemed not to trouble Sol at all. He was smooching with another female.

‘They all act like that at twenty-one,’ Della said defensively.

‘Twenty-one? I’d have thought him older.’

‘Everyone would,’ Carlo said, just behind them. ‘It’s because he’s built like a tank. I was exactly the same, Mamma, and you used to say I’d come to a bad end.’

As he spoke his eyes rested on Della, as if proclaiming to the world that this was the ‘end’ to which he had come, and he had no complaints.

‘Come and dance with me,’ he said, drawing her to her feet.

‘It will soon be the moment,’ Hope said, patting his arm. ‘Don’t forget.’

‘The moment for what?’ Della asked, as they danced slowly away.

‘The exact moment we were born. Of course she doesn’t know the exact moment for Luke and Primo, plus Ruggiero and I have an hour between us, so she goes for the midway point. In ten minutes’ time she’ll announce that it’s exactly thirty-one years since we arrived in the world.’

He gave a sheepish grin.

‘It embarrasses the hell out of us, but it makes her happy.’

Sure enough, ten minutes later Hope called for silence, and, standing before a huge birthday cake, made her speech. The twins exchanged glances, each ready to sink, but they said and did everything she wanted, and the rest of the crowd cheered.

‘Now I’m thirty-one, and you’re only six years older than me,’ Carlo told Della when they were together again.

Smiling, she shook her head.

‘But I have a birthday next month, and then it’ll be seven again. Thirty-eight is only two years from forty, and—’

He silenced her with a finger over her lips. This time his eyes were dark, and he wasn’t joking.

‘I’m serious about this,’ he said. ‘You know we have to be together. Nothing else is possible for us.’

‘When you talk like that you almost convince me.’ She sighed longingly.

‘Good, then let’s tell everyone now.’

‘No!’ She clung to him firmly. ‘I said almost. It’s not as easy as you think.’

‘It is,’ he insisted. ‘It’s as easy as you want it to be.’

He was holding her close in a waltz. Now he drew her closer still, and laid his mouth over hers. It was the gentlest possible kiss and it surprised her so that she instinctively leaned into it while her body moved to the music.

‘I love you,’ he whispered.

‘I love you,’ she murmured back.

‘Let me tell them now.’

Before she could answer they were engulfed by a wave of applause. As the music stopped, and he half released her, Della looked around and saw that the guests had made a circle all around them, smiling and clapping heartily.

‘I think you’ve already told them,’ she said reproachfully.

‘Not in words. It’s what they see that matters. Don’t be angry with me.’

‘I’m not, but—stop smiling at me like that. It isn’t fair. You’re not to say anything to anyone, you hear?’

‘Is that an order?’

‘Yes, it is. You said you were going to be my hen-pecked mouse, remember? So be one.’

‘Ah, but that’s only after the wedding,’ he parried quickly. ‘Until then I’m allowed an opinion of my own.’

‘No, you are not,’ she said firmly. ‘The Boss Lady says so.’

His lips twitched, and his eyes were full of fun, looking deep into hers in the way he knew melted her.

How unscrupulous could a man be?

‘So you be good,’ she said, in a voice that was shaking with laughter and passion. ‘Or I’ll get my rolling pin out.’

For answer, he seized her hands in his, raising them to his lips, kissing the backs, the palms, the fingers.

And everyone saw him do it.

CHAPTER SEVEN

SOL appeared in Della’s room the next morning, looking much the worse for wear.

‘Your mother’s in the shower,’ Carlo said, letting him in. ‘How did the rest of your evening go?’

‘Nuts to it. Myra just vanished. I didn’t even see her to say goodbye.’

Carlo kept a straight face. It was clear now that Myra had gone to the party hoping to snare a Rinucci, and had presumably struck gold. He made a mental note to call his brothers and ask a few carefully worded questions.

‘But the car brought you back here safely?’ he said, apparently sympathetic.

‘When I realised that you two had already left without me—’

‘We were being tactful,’ Carlo assured him. ‘After all, things might have worked out with Myra—or someone else—and then you wouldn’t have wanted us around. Coffee?’

Sol slid thankfully into a chair while Carlo filled a cup, then called Room Service and ordered another breakfast.

‘So, what’s the programme for today?’ Sol said, yawning. ‘I seem to be at a loose end now.’

‘My programme is to spend the day with your mother,’ Carlo said, speaking in an easy manner that didn’t quite hide his determination. ‘Just the two of us.’

Sol seemed to consider for a moment.

‘That was quite a show you and Mum put up last night,’ he mused.

‘Be very careful what you say,’ Carlo told him quietly.

‘Yes, but look—just how seriously can you—? Aw, c’mon, people think we’re almost the same age. How am I going to tell the world, “This is my dad”?’

‘You leave me to worry about that. If you give your mother any trouble, you’ll have me to deal with.’

‘What do you mean, trouble? I have a terrific relationship with her.’

‘Yes, you take, and she gives—and gives, and gives. I don’t entirely blame you for that. I was the same at your age, selfish and greedy, but I was luckier than you. I had a twin who was as jealous of me as I was of him, plus several older brothers ready to thump the nonsense out of both of us. There was also my father, to look out for my mother. Della’s had nobody—until now.’

But Sol was holding an ace, and he played it.

‘If you give me any trouble, you’ll have Mum to deal with,’ he said.

He spoke with a touch of defiance, but it was only a small touch because he’d seen something in Carlo’s eyes that most people never saw, and it made him careful.

‘You could be right,’ Carlo said thoughtfully.

‘So we understand each other?’

Carlo gave him a brilliant grin that would have chilled the blood of anyone more perceptive than Sol.

‘I understand you perfectly,’ he said. ‘And in time you’ll understand me.’

A knock at the door announced the arrival of the extra breakfast, and by the time Della emerged from the shower Sol was concentrating on food.

‘Don’t question him,’ Carlo said genially. ‘He had a bad night.’

Della hugged her son. ‘Poor darling. What are you going to do now?’

‘We’re going to spend the day together,’ Carlo said. ‘You and I need to go back to Pompeii, to start making a plan of action, and Sol’s dying to come with us and hear all about it.’

The beaming smile Della turned on him effectively shut off Sol’s protests.

‘Sol, that’s wonderful. You’re really interested?’

‘Of course,’ he said bravely. ‘I can’t wait to see—everything.’

‘I’ll meet you both downstairs in an hour,’ Carlo said, departing.

He used the hour hiring a car large enough to take the three of them. When they emerged from the elevator he hurried forward.

‘I’ve had a call from someone who wants to discuss progress on the dig,’ he told Della. ‘He’s waiting for me at Pompeii now, but he can’t stay long so we have to get moving.’

‘Oh, but—Sol wanted to do a little shopping first—’

‘No time. Sorry. Let’s go.’

Before anyone could argue they were in the car and on their way. Della was a little surprised, but she supposed he needed to see how the work had progressed in his absence. And she appreciated the way he made Sol sit beside himself, and talked to him throughout the journey about the fascinating tasks that awaited them.

Not that Sol seemed to appreciate this as he should. She couldn’t see his face, but she could read his back view without trouble, and her lips twitched.

‘You’re wicked,’ she murmured to Carlo, when they had parked the car and were walking to the site.

‘Just wait,’ he said, grinning. ‘The best is yet to come.’

His team greeted him with riotous cheer, then welcomed Sol warmly. He brightened up when Lea, a young woman in brief shorts and top, smiled at him and said, ‘Have you come to help us? There’s so much digging to be done. Just look at me.’

He did so. Perspiration had caused Lea’s long, elegant legs to shine and her top to cling to her.