Annie Claydon - English Rose for the Sicilian Doc

And the one thing that Rose had learned very quickly was that you faulted Sicilian hospitality at your peril. So she’d accepted the offer and driven here, privately deciding that if the language barrier turned out to be more than she or William could cope with, she’d find an excuse to be on the first plane back home for a couple of days.

Someone laughed, and Rose looked up to see a man chatting with the receptionist. Her face was animated, smiling up at him in the way that women did when someone they liked also happened to be breath-catchingly handsome.

And even by the rigorous standards of the island this man was handsome. Straight, dark hair, grazing his collar. Smooth olive skin, high cheekbones and lips that were meant to smile. Rose couldn’t see his eyes, but she imagined them chocolate brown.

Only a man so immaculate could have got away with that jacket. Dark cream, obviously linen—on anyone less perfect it would have looked rumpled. But on him it seemed as if every crease had been carefully chosen and styled, to make the most of his broad shoulders and the slim lines of his hips.

Suddenly he turned, looking straight at her. His eyes were brown. Dark, seventy per cent cocoa, with a hint of bite. Rose dropped her gaze, embarrassed to be caught staring.

‘Mrs Palmer?’ He’d walked over and dropped into a chair opposite her. His voice was like chocolate, too.

‘Ms Palmer.’ It was a convenient halfway house for a single woman with a child. ‘Um... Parla Inglese?’

He grinned and Rose felt her ears start to burn. ‘Yes, I speak English. I’m Matteo Di Salvo, and I’m here to translate for Dr Garfagnini. He’s the paediatric specialist who’ll be seeing William today.’

Perfect. His English was clear and almost unaccented, although the slight difference in tempo made it sound seductive. Or perhaps that was just the way he spoke. Seductive just about summed him up.

Rose took a breath, trying to concentrate on the practicalities. ‘Thank you. You’re the interpreter here?’

‘No, I’m a doctor. Our interpreter is busy with some English tourists in the emergency department...’ He gave a shrug, which indicated that the matter shouldn’t be given a second thought. ‘Dr Garfagnini is running a few minutes late, and I wondered if I might take the opportunity to get to know William a little.’

Handsome and kind. And he spoke English. This man was a bit too good to be true.

‘Thank you so much, Dr Di Salvo. I appreciate it.’ Rose remembered that a handshake was usual in these circumstances and held out her hand.

‘Matteo, please...’ The caress of his fingers was just as alluring as the rest of him.

‘Rose.’ She snatched her hand from his, feeling her cheeks burn, and curled her arm around her son.

‘Ciao.’ William had learned a few words of Italian in the last three weeks, and had also learned that they were usually greeted with approval. Matteo was no exception to the rule.

‘Ciao, William.’ He held out his hand, and William took it, staring up at him. ‘Your Italian is very good. Molto bene.’

‘Molto bene...’ William parroted the words and then decided to return the compliment. ‘Your English is very good.’

Rose quirked her lips, ready to apologise for William, but it seemed it wasn’t necessary. Matteo smiled and nodded.

‘Thank you. I used to live in London.’

‘I live in London!’ William crowed with delight.

‘Do you? What football team do you support?’

‘Tufnell Park Cheetahs. They’re the best.’

No one had heard of the Tufnell Park Cheetahs other than the handful of supporters who turned up on a Sunday morning to watch them play in the local park, but all the same Matteo nodded as if he approved wholeheartedly of the choice.

‘And how old are you?’ It was impossible to tell whether Matteo’s questions were just to pass the time, or whether he was testing her son in some way. Rose suspected it was a bit of both.

William counted on his fingers. ‘Uno, due, tre...four. And four days.’

Matteo nodded. ‘Quattro. E quattro giorni.’

He listened while William repeated the words and smiled. ‘Molto bene. What does that mean, William?’

‘It means very good.’

There was nothing wrong with William’s memory, or his use of language. He was a bright child, and had none of Rose’s inhibitions about speaking Italian whenever he got the chance. It was the way he’d been behaving in the three weeks since they’d come here that worried Rose.

The last of the other families had been ushered out of the reception area, and the receptionist came out from behind her desk, picking up the toys that lay scattered around the room and tidying them away into a box in the corner.

‘You can choose something from the box if you’d like.’ Matteo pointed towards the toy box. Rose wondered if this was another test, but if it was, it was done deftly enough to make it seem like a game to William, who ran over to the box, stopping short a couple of feet away from it. The receptionist smiled, reaching in and offering a toy car, and William took it from her.

‘Why have you brought him here today?’ Matteo turned to her.

Rose reached for her bag. ‘My friend wrote it down for me in Italian. It’s not easy to quantify...’

‘Thank you. But I’d rather hear it in your own words first.’ He took the paper that she handed him but didn’t look at it. ‘Your instincts, as a mother, are something we take seriously.’

Another hurdle that seemed to have just melted away in the heat of his dark gaze. ‘He can see, but doesn’t seem to understand what he sees sometimes. Which is odd, because he’s so bright usually.’

‘And this has started happening recently?’

‘I’ve noticed it over the last three weeks, since we’ve been here in Sicily. I’m worried that he might have hit his head without my knowing, or even that it’s something to do with the flight.’

Matteo flipped his gaze to the paper, scanning it. ‘And his behaviour?’

‘He gets very frustrated when he makes silly mistakes about things, but in general he seems happy.’

‘And this is something new? Or could it be that being in an unfamiliar environment has made a long-standing difficulty more apparent?’

‘I can’t really say. I’ve only just noticed it.’ Rose tried to ignore the familiar tug of guilt. It wasn’t helpful and Matteo was just exploring all the possibilities.

‘Where are you staying? Are you working here, or on holiday?’ Matteo seemed to be watching William out of the corner of his eye. He was playing happily with the receptionist, racing toy cars across her desk.

‘I’m an archaeologist, and I’m here to work on a project. One of my Italian colleagues has rented a large house here in Palermo and I share it with him and his family. His wife, Elena, looks after William and her own children while I’m at work.’

‘You’re a single parent?’

‘Yes.’ Rose squeezed her hands together. She tried her best, but she knew that she couldn’t give William all the attention he needed. Being found lacking in this man’s eyes was unexpectedly difficult.

‘How is he with his food? I imagine he’s come across some new things here.’

‘Yes. He’s always been cautious about his food, but now he won’t eat anything unless he’s smelled it and dipped his fingers in it. I get him to try something and he likes it, but then the next time he doesn’t seem to recognise it, and he does the same thing all over again.’

Matteo was nodding slowly, as if some of this made sense to him. But he didn’t seem inclined to share any of his thoughts with Rose just yet. He excused himself and strolled over to the receptionist’s desk, joining in the game with the toy cars. Not content with just driving them across the desk, he and William lined them up in rows, and started on what looked like a fair representation of a demolition derby.