Lucy Gordon - The Rinuccis - Carlo, Ruggiero & Francesco - The Italian's Wife by Sunset

‘And you really have to fly,’ she teased. ‘I guess when you get near the earth you crash.’

‘Right. That’s why I could never be a teacher, or a museum administrator. I might have to—’ He looked desperate.

‘Might have to what?’ she asked through her laughter.

He glanced over his shoulder and spoke with a lowered voice.

‘Wear a collar and tie.’

He sat back with the air of one who had described unimaginable horrors. Della nodded in sympathy.

‘But doesn’t it ever get depressing?’ she asked. ‘Spending so much time surrounded by death, especially in Pompeii—all those people, petrified in the positions they died in nearly two thousand years ago?’

‘But they’re not dead,’ he said, almost fiercely. ‘Not to me. They’re still speaking, and I’m listening because they have so much to say.’

‘But hasn’t it all been said? I mean, they finished excavating that place years ago. What more is there?’

He almost tore his hair.

‘They didn’t finish excavating. They barely started. I’m working on a whole undiscovered area—’

He stopped, and seemed to calm himself down by force of will.

‘I’m sorry. Once I get started there’s no stopping me. I told you I’m a bore.’

‘I wasn’t bored,’ she said truthfully. ‘Not a bit.’

In truth, she was fascinated. A fire was flaming within him and she wanted to see more, know more.

‘Go on,’ she urged.

Then he was away again, words pouring out in a vivid, passionate stream so that she caught the sense even of the bits she didn’t understand. After a while she stopped trying to follow too closely. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that he could make her see visions through his own eyes. It was like being taken on a journey into the heart of the man, and it was exhilarating.

‘You’ve let your food get cold,’ he said at last.

At some point they had passed onto the next course, and it had lain uneaten on both their plates while he took her on a journey to the stars.

‘I forgot about it,’ she said, feeling slightly stunned.

‘So did I,’ he admitted.

The voice of caution, which normally ruled her life, whispered, A practised charmer, but the warning floated away, unheeded. Something more was happening—something that would make her get up and leave now, if she had any sense.

But she didn’t want to be sensible. She wanted to go on enjoying this foolish magic, as crazy as a teenager. No matter how it ended. She would relish every moment.

Carlo watched her without seeming to. It was becoming important to him to ‘capture’ her in his mind, as though by doing so he could fit her into some niche where he would know what to make of her. Luckily the hours stretched ahead, full of time to get to know her better.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, Carlo saw an acquaintance come into the restaurant, and he cursed silently. The man was well-meaning but long-winded, and if he didn’t act fast his evening would be in ruins.

‘I’ll be back in a moment,’ he said hurriedly, leaving the table.

His worst fears were fulfilled. His friend greeted him with bonhomie, and a determination to join him at all costs. Carlo just managed to head him off at the pass, and finally made his way back to the table, determined on escape.

Della was talking on her cellphone as he approached, and he heard her say, ‘It’s lovely to talk to you, darling.’

It wasn’t so much the word that troubled him as the soft adoration in her voice, the glow in her eyes.

For pity’s sake, he chided himself. You’ve only known her a few hours. What do you care who she calls darling?

He wished he knew the answer.

She was laughing, her face alight with affection.

‘I’ve got to go now. I’ll call you again soon. Bye, darling.’ She hung up.

A moment later Carlo reached the table, showing no sign that he’d heard the call or even knew she’d made one.

‘Perhaps we should move on?’ he said.

She nodded. She had seen him talking urgently with a man, blocking his way so that he could not disturb them.

Outside, he took her hand and headed for the car, but then stopped suddenly, as though something had struck him.

‘No—wait! The time’s just right.’

‘Right for what?’

‘I’ll show you.’

He turned and began to lead her in the opposite direction. Gradually the houses fell away and they were going towards the shore, reaching the road that ran beside it and crossing over onto the beach.

‘Look,’ he said.

The tide had gone out, leaving the fishing boats lying lopsided on the wet sand. Water lay in the ridges and the tiny pools, and the last rays of the setting sun had turned it deep red.

She gazed, awestruck, at so much dramatic beauty before finally breathing, ‘It’s magic’

‘Yes, it is. Not everyone sees it, but I thought you would because of what you told me about dawn on the Thames. To some people it’s just wet sand and a few boats. If you see them by day they’re old and shabby. But like this—’

He stopped, almost as if hoping that she would finish his thought.

‘Another world,’ she said. ‘A special world that only appears for a short time.’

She thought he gave a little sigh of pleasure.

‘Just a short time,’ he agreed. ‘Soon it will be dark, and the special world will vanish.’

‘But it’ll return tomorrow.’

‘It may not. It isn’t always like this, only when everything is right. It’s like you said: you have to be ready to catch the moment before it vanishes.’

He was leading her out in the direction of the sea, leaving the conventional safety of the land behind, taking her into an unfamiliar world.

‘Wait,’ she said. ‘Let me take off my shoes before they get wet.’

She did so, shoving them into her capacious shoulder bag. He removed his own and she grabbed them, putting them, too, into the bag, and taking his hand again.

Not speaking, they walked towards the horizon, until the shallow water just covered their feet.

‘This is when it’s at its best,’ he said quietly.

The setting sun covered the beach and the film of water with blazing red in all directions, so that they might have been standing in a fire. It drenched them with its mysterious violent light.

Carlo looked at her, smiling, and she braced herself, knowing that this was exactly the right moment for a skilled charmer to kiss her, and that he, who clearly knew all the moves, would be bound to make this one. But then she saw that there was something awkward, almost shy, about his smile. While she was trying to puzzle it out, he raised her hand and rubbed the back of it against his cheek.

She stared, too dumbfounded to react. According to the script he should have kissed her, and if he’d done so she would have known how to ‘place’ him. But the closest he came was to press his lips gently where his cheek had touched a moment earlier. And when she met his eyes she saw that he was as disconcerted as she.

The next moment the light changed. Something brilliant faded. And it was over.

‘It’s gone,’ she said, disappointed.

‘It’s gone for now,’ he agreed. ‘But there are other things. Let’s go.’

As twilight fell Carlo drove along the coast until they reached the outskirts of Naples.

‘Shall I take you to your hotel?’ he asked.

‘Yes, please. I need to talk to you where we won’t be disturbed.’

She knew she couldn’t put the moment off any longer. Something had started to happen, and if it were to flower she must be honest with him first.

As they went up in the elevator at the Vallini she was planning how she would explain that their meeting had not been an accident. Such was his good nature that she had no fears about his reaction.