Lucy Gordon - The Rinuccis - Carlo, Ruggiero & Francesco

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.