NEXT morning Alicia longed to give in when Francesco tried to persuade her to stay in bed. Instead, she showered, dressed in jeans and T-shirt, and ignored Francesco’s protests as she used her concealing cream on his bruised jaw instead of her freckles.
‘Luckily my bruises don’t show,’ she told him. ‘I sat down with a bit of a thump when I broke your fall.’
‘For which I am most grateful.’ He slid a caressing hand over her bottom. ‘I shall look forward to kissing your bruises better.’
She grinned in such open delight at the idea he caught her to him and kissed her hard.
‘Ti amo,’ he whispered.
They went out on the terrazzo to join their guest for breakfast, where discussion centred on Francesco’s promising local rugby-club, and the success rate of the club Gareth played for. When he got up to leave, with reiterated thanks and apologies, Alicia kissed Gareth’s cheek, sent her love to his parents, and then stood with Francesco at the great door to wave him on his way.
‘Now, sposa mia, you go back to bed,’ said Francesco in a tone which told her not to argue.
‘But I’m fine—it’s you who should be in bed.’
‘And I shall be, this afternoon. With you,’ he promised, kissing her. ‘But you had a shock last night. You need a rest.’
‘Just until lunchtime, then.’ She yawned. ‘I had to get up this morning, otherwise Gareth would have been in an even worse state of remorse.’
‘Davverro. Gareth said this to me when you went to see Bianca and Zia Luisa. He also asked us to keep his visit secret from his family,’ Francesco informed her as they went slowly upstairs. ‘They have no idea that he decided to come here.’
‘Oh Lord!’ Alicia groaned. ‘And he didn’t tell me that, because he knew I’d argue. I’m so tired of secrets, Francesco.’ She eyed him hopefully as they reached their room. ‘Do I really have to go to bed?’
The look Francesco gave her silenced her as he turned the covers back. ‘Do this to please me, innamorata.’
Because she could resist neither the smile nor the endearment—and she really liked the idea anyway—Alicia meekly took off her shirt and jeans and slid under the covers to lean back against the pillows Francesco had piled ready. ‘Won’t you stay with me, darling?’
Francesco bent to kiss her. ‘Do not tempt me. I will report to Zia and Bianca that I am unharmed, then come back later. Allora; is there more you need?’
She tried a coaxing smile. ‘I’ve got some books in my holdall.’
He shook his head. ‘No reading. Sleep.’
‘Oh, very well,’ she sighed, and wagged an admonishing finger. ‘But don’t expect to get your way every time, Signor Conte.’
He laughed and bent to kiss her again. ‘I would so much like to stay here with you, but I have certain arrangements to make. Now rest.’
The arrangements Francesco made were to delegate his workload to the staff who manned his offices in the town, so that for the remainder of Alicia’s holiday he could spend every moment possible with his wife, leaving her only when she rang her mother or Meg for a chat, or took the daily Italian lesson she insisted on with a delighted Bianca. Francesco drove Alicia down into the town to shop for gifts to take home, took her on a tour of his vineyards and the small marble-quarry he owned, and also to the small, idyllically situated rugby club to meet the young, enthusiastic team.
And on every possible occasion he introduced her to everyone they met, either as ‘la mia sposa’ or ‘la mia Contessa’, as appropriate—both of which gave Alicia a terrific buzz, she confided to Francesco in private later. They attended mass with Zia Luisa and Bianca, and short of taking out a notice in the local newspaper Francesco made it very clear to the citizens of Montedaluca that he was reunited with his young wife.
The night before they were due to fly back to the UK there was an air of desperation in Alicia’s response to Francesco when they made love. Afterwards, when they lay quiet in each other’s arms, he gazed down into her eyes, one hand smoothing her tumbled hair.
‘Che cosa, amore?’
‘I’m afraid,’ she said huskily, and buried her face against his chest.
‘Afraid? Of what, Alicia?’
‘That when we leave here something will go wrong.’ She caressed his hard, muscular chest as she raised her head. ‘I know it’s illogical, but here in the castello it feels like an enchanted world; isolated from everyday life.’
‘And once we leave here you think this enchantment will vanish?’ He drew her closer when she nodded. ‘I have told you, carissima, that I will let nothing come between us again. Ever. I swear this to you.’ He smiled down at her. ‘We have survived attack by Gareth, and told him the truth. He no longer feels quite so hostile towards me, and his feelings for you have apparently reverted to brotherly again, thank God. Perhaps once we tell our story to your mother, also to Megan and her parents, they also will not be hostile.’
Alicia was silent for a while in Francesco’s embrace, feeling his heart beating against hers. ‘My mother will want what I want this time round, so will Meg,’ she said quietly at last. ‘And I would naturally prefer that everyone wishes us both well, but, even if they don’t, nothing will keep me away from you again, Francesco.’
‘Grazie, amore,’ he said huskily, and kissed her in passionate gratitude. ‘We have wasted so much time apart, I grudge any minute in future that you are not here with me.’
‘Me too. But I’ll have to work out my full notice period, plus any extra time needed to show the ropes to my successor,’ she said with a sigh. ‘But what do I tell people? I’m supposed to be divorced, remember?’
‘Tell those you think important that we were just separato, and now we are no longer,’ he said simply. ‘And will never be again,’ he added, and kissed her so possessively that she forgot her qualms and surrendered to the joy and heat of a passion she responded to with heart, body and soul. They soared together to such a pinnacle of ecstasy that, after the final wave of sensation engulfed them in climactic bliss, sleep overtook them before they could bear to separate.
The following morning Bianca knocked on their door while Alicia was in the shower to inform Francesco that the signora was unwell, and she had taken the liberty of ringing Dr Alva.
‘Bene, that was most wise,’ he said instantly, and smiled reassuringly at Alicia as she emerged, wrapped in a bath towel. ‘Zia is not feeling well—her heart gives her trouble sometimes.’ He turned back to Bianca. ‘She has been taking her medication?’
‘Of course, signore. I make sure of that.’ Bianca smiled ruefully. ‘She insists that her little pain is indigestion after indulging too much at dinner last night. But I do not like her colour, and her pulse is fast.’
‘You were wise to ring for the doctor,’ Francesco assured her.
‘You go and see to Zia, darling,’ said Alicia anxiously. ‘I’ll get dressed and finish my packing.’
But by the time they should have been leaving for the airport Zia Luisa was no better, and at last the doctor advised transferring her to the local hospital, at which point Alicia insisted Francesco accompanied his great-aunt.
‘Giacomo can drive me to Pisa. You’re needed here,’ she said firmly. ‘You can follow me to Cardiff when Zia is better.’
Francesco held her close. ‘I am torn in two pieces,’ he said huskily. ‘But you are right. I must stay. Ring me as soon as you arrive,’ he added. ‘I will be at the hospital until I am sure Zia is out of danger.’
Alicia gave in, kissed him quickly, then made a brief visit to Zia Luisa, who lay pale and breathless on her bed, beads of perspiration on her forehead.
‘It is so stupid, piccola. I do not want the hospital.’
‘Best to make sure. Francesco and Bianca will be right there with you.’ Alicia bent to kiss the soft, wrinkled cheek. ‘I need you in good shape by the time I come back.’
The faded eyes gleamed. ‘You are coming back to stay?’
Alicia nodded.
‘Bene. Come soon. Francesco needs you, Alicia.’
‘I need him too, Zia.’ Alicia smiled affectionately. ‘I must go now if I’m going to catch that plane. So, you be good, please!’
If it was hard to say goodbye to Zia Luisa, it was agony to part with Francesco. They clung together in the hall while Giacomo rushed through a sudden downpour of rain to load the car, then Francesco held an umbrella over Alicia’s head while he issued a stream of instructions, and at last installed her in the passenger seat of the Lamborghini. He reminded Giacomo to drive carefully, not for the first time, and to report back to him at the hospital once he had taken the contessa to the airport.
‘Si, signore,’ said the man patiently. Giacomo waited, eyes averted, while Francesco kissed his wife again, then as soon as the car door was closed drove off down the steep hill. Alicia sat twisted round in her seat to wave at Francesco, but he was soon obscured by a heavy curtain of rain as lightning flashed and thunder rolled to match her mood.
In a waiting room at the hospital later Francesco paced like a caged lion while his great-aunt was subjected to various tests. He stared at the elements raging outside, praying that Alicia would be safe. He knew of old that she hated storms. The weather could change long before her flight, he assured himself, his spirits rising slightly when the consultant came to inform him that Signora da Luca could go home. Her own diagnosis of indigestion had been correct. She had been given new medication for this, told that in future she must be extra careful with her diet, and limit her intake of the wine she was so fond of. Since there was no immediate danger to her health, and Signora Giusti was able to take care of her, the consultant had surrendered to the signora’s pleas to allow her to return to her own bed.
Bianca was desperately guilty for ruining Francesco’s plans to travel to Cardiff with Alicia, and begged his forgiveness for the fears which had proved unfounded. But Francesco assured her that she had been right to ring Dr Alva, who, he reminded her, would not have admitted his great-aunt to the hospital unless he had felt it necessary. At her age, chances could not be taken.
Soon afterwards Giacomo arrived back to report that the contessa had refused to let him wait until the plane left, worried that her husband might need him.
Francesco, appalled by the idea of Alicia waiting in Pisa alone, forced a smile as Luisa appeared in a wheelchair pushed by a nurse, with Bianca walking alongside. And once back at the castello, after a journey which took twice as long as normal due to a hailstorm, Francesco ignored his great-aunt’s protests and carried her up to her room. Ordering her to be good, he laid her on the bed, then kissed her lovingly and left her with Bianca—just as the power failed and the castello was left without electricity.
He went down to his office to find some paperwork to pass the time, but found it impossible to concentrate as he stared out at the storm, which showed no immediate signs of abating. There was no answer when he rang Alicia’s phone. Unable to use his computer, Francesco abandoned all pretence of trying to work and kept trying Alicia’s phone. At last he gave up and just sat, willing his own to ring. But when the power came back on it was the main telephone on his desk which rang at last, and he grabbed it with an unsteady hand.
‘Alicia?’ he said thankfully, wincing at the sound of crackling in his ear.
‘Actually, no, it’s Bron, Francesco. Bronwen Hughes,’ she added, in case he was in any doubt. ‘Can you hear me? This line is very bad.’
‘Yes, I hear you,’ he said, raising his voice. ‘We have a storm here. How are you? Has Alicia arrived?’
‘That’s why I’m ringing. She hasn’t yet. I offered George’s services as chauffeur to pick her up from the airport, but Alicia said it was all arranged.’
Francesco fought hard against panic. ‘I told her to take a taxi. She promised to ring when she landed, but I have heard nothing yet.’
‘Neither have I. No doubt she’ll get in touch soon. I’d better get off the line so she can contact you.’
‘I will tell her to ring you afterwards.’
‘Thank you, Francesco. How is your great-aunt, by the way?’
‘Much improved. It was indigestion, not her heart, after all. I was able to bring her home, and she is now resting in her own bed.’
‘I’m so glad.’ A pause. ‘I can’t help feeling worried about Alicia. You know what mothers are!’
‘Davverro, none better.’ He tried to ignore the cold feeling in the pit of his stomach. ‘Bronwen, ring me as soon as you hear from her, per favore.’
‘Of course I will. Or, if you hear first, you can ring me? If you’ve got a pen I’ll give you my mobile number, and the one here at the house.’ She gave a shaky little laugh. ‘Now we can communicate.’
If only they had communicated more freely years ago, thought Francesco moodily, a lot of heartache could have been avoided—for both Alicia and himself.
Glad he could now use the computer, he switched it on to check the times of flights from Pisa, and saw much to his relief that, although much delayed by the storm, the flight Alicia was booked on should have already landed in the UK.
But still she had not rung. Francesco felt the cold sweat of fear break out on his neck and trickle down the back of his shirt. His mouth twisted in distaste. He needed a shower. With his phone in his hand, he ran upstairs to the master suite which already felt empty and lonely without Alicia. He hesitated. If he stood in the shower he might not hear her. But he could at least wash and put on a fresh shirt. He put his phone in his pocket and began to sluice water over his head and shoulders. He towelled himself dry and reached for the Aqua Parma lotion he had used all his adult life, his heart contracting as he saw that Alicia had left some of her things behind on the shelf. God, he needed to hear her voice! Then he cursed suddenly in frustration as he spotted a gleam of metal behind her perfume on the shelf—Alicia had left her phone behind.
Feeling queasy from the flight, Alicia was glad she’d had the sense to leave half her belongings behind at the castello. She grabbed her solitary holdall from the carousel and made a beeline for the nearest public phone, angry with herself for leaving her mobile behind. Francesco had keyed his own mobile number into it, which meant she had no idea what it was. Thankfully she had the castello number in her diary. But Francesco could still be at the hospital. She could at least leave a message to say she’d arrived at last, and he’d get it some time. After waiting out the violent storm in Pisa, the plane had finally taken off through turbulence which had clenched her white-knuckled hands to the arms of her seat, and now, after landing here through more of the same, Alicia needed to be in Francesco’s arms like she needed to breathe. She used her credit card to ring the castello number, and after waiting for what seemed like forever she heard a husky voice demand, ‘Alicia?’
‘Yes, darling. I finally made it; I’ve just collected my luggage. I couldn’t ring before because I left my phone behind. It was a horrible flight, and I was frightened, and I want you so much—’ To her deep mortification Alicia burst into tears.
‘Innamorata!’ he said frantically. ‘It is agony to hear you cry when I can do nothing to comfort you. But at least you are safe. I have been mad with worry.’
‘Sorry!’ She blew her nose on a tissue, and pulled herself together to listen.
‘You left your phone in our bathroom. So, now, call your mother subito, because she was very anxious when she rang me. Then find a taxi. If the weather is bad, offer the driver any money he wants.’
‘Bron rang you? Heavens! But tell me about Zia Luisa—I was afraid you might still be at the hospital.’
Francesco explained briefly. ‘Now call your mother, amore; I will talk to you later.’
When Alicia arrived in Cowbridge by taxi, after another unpleasant journey through sheeting rain, her reception from Bron was unusually emotional, and even laid-back George Hughes hugged her convulsively and poured her a glass of the Burgundy he kept for special occasions.
‘But first ring your husband,’ he said, eyes twinkling. ‘Bron says he’s in a bit of a lather.’
‘Sorry to add a call to Italy to your bill, George.’
‘Never mind that,’ said Bron impatiently. ‘Put Francesco’s mind at rest. Go into George’s den, darling. You can be private in there.’
Alicia gave them both another hug, then raced to shut herself in George’s sanctuary. ‘Francesco?’ she said breathlessly, when he answered. ‘I’m here.’
‘Deo gratia!’ he exclaimed, his voice cracking in relief. ‘Are you better now, tesoro?’
‘As better as I can be without you. Sorry I was such a cry baby when I rang, Francesco.’
‘Since you cried because you needed me, do not be sorry, Alicia.’ He sighed thankfully. ‘Now I may even sleep a little tonight—though it will be very lonely in my bed, amore.’
‘Is Zia well enough for you to come and join me soon in mine, Francesco?’
‘I will wait for a day or two to make sure all is well with her, but already she is herself again now she is at home. Bianca is with her, and Pina and Giacomo are ready to do her slightest bidding, so I shall be with you as soon as I can. Now, rest well, carissima, and no more crying.’
‘Not a tear. But listen, Francesco.’
‘I am listening.’
‘When you ring back, I have a suggestion to make.’
‘Whatever you wish,’ he promised her. ‘Even if that wish is to keep your job a little longer.’
‘Nothing like that,’ she assured him. Quite the opposite. ‘I can’t keep George waiting for his dinner any longer, poor thing, so ring me back about ten tonight and I’ll tell you about the plan I was hatching while I waited at Pisa.’
‘I am impatient to hear it. But I will ring later as you ask. Ciao, amore.’
During dinner Alicia told her not very surprised mother that she intended to go back to Francesco, and at long last, years after the event, gave them a watered-down version of the episode that had sent her running home before the ink was dry on her marriage lines.
‘Was that all?’ said Bron, astonished. ‘I imagined far worse.’
‘It was just my illusions he damaged,’ said Alicia ruefully, and smiled at George. ‘You didn’t know me then, but I was really wet behind the ears—the most clueless teenager on the planet.’
‘My fault for keeping you on such a tight rein,’ said her mother with remorse. ‘Though to be fair I sent you to the convent school because it had such a good academic reputation.’
‘And because you wanted your baby girl in safekeeping with the nuns,’ added George gently.
‘Well, yes. Because of what happened to me, I was too protective. I realise that now. I was afraid to let her out of my sight right from the start. If I hadn’t had Eira to help look after her I would never have gone back to college, let alone held down a job afterwards.’ Bron smiled wryly. ‘Can you imagine how I felt about letting Alicia go to Florence on holiday without me? And I was right. Look how that turned out!’
‘But if I hadn’t gone I wouldn’t have met Francesco,’ Alicia reminded her, and smiled at George. ‘Sorry to embarrass you, but I fell in love with him the moment I laid eyes on him. And now that we’re back together again it seems as though we’ve never been apart,’ she added, and shivered suddenly.
‘What’s the matter?’ demanded her mother.
‘There was so much turbulence on the flight, I was afraid the plane would crash.’ She gave her listeners a wry smile. ‘It taught me a lesson—life is too short to waste a minute of it. So when I talk to Francesco later I’ll tell him about my change of plan.’
When the telephone rang a minute or two short of ten, Alicia excused herself to answer it, in too much of a rush to notice the indulgent smiles that followed her as she shot from the room.
‘Francesco?’ she said breathlessly.
‘Davverro. I hope you were not expecting someone else?’
‘No. Only you, Francesco. Always.’
He sighed with satisfaction. ‘It gives me great pleasure to hear you say this, innamorata.’
‘I thought it might. Though it’s true. How is Zia Luisa?’
‘She is back to normal. Poor Bianca is trying to follow the doctor’s orders, but Zia is already making life difficult for her about drinking less wine.’
‘Oh, poor Zia.’ Alicia took in a deep breath. ‘Listen, Francesco, I have a plan.’
‘It is strange that you should say that, tesoro, because I also have a plan. But yours first.’
‘I must work my two weeks’ notice, but I don’t want to work a second longer than that after all.’
‘I agree completely, cara,’ he assured her. ‘And now here is my plan, sposa mia—I will spend tomorrow arranging everything here so that I can stay with you until you finish your job and are ready to come home to Montedaluca with me. You like my plan?’
Her face lit up like a Christmas tree. ‘I adore your plan, Francesco. I just wish you were here right now so I could show you how much!’
‘You can show me when I arrive. I shall look forward to this very much.’ His voice deepened. ‘I went through hell today, Alicia, until I knew you were safe.’
‘I wasn’t very happy myself,’ she said unsteadily, and broke off to blow her nose.
‘Which is why I’m against wasting any more time apart. Let me know which plane you’re taking and I’ll come to meet you at the airport. Would you mind coming here to Bron’s for a meal before we go to the flat?’
‘I shall be most happy to meet your mother again, also to make your stepfather’s acquaintance. But I shall be happiest of all just to be with you again.’
One glimpse of her husband’s glossy black curls among the disembarking passengers at Cardiff international airport had Alicia thrusting her way through the crowd like a rugby forward hell-bent on touching the ball down for a try. His eyes lit up, and he dropped his suitcase to sweep her into his arms, swinging her round in jubilation for a moment before he set her on her feet to kiss her.
‘Hi,’ said Alicia, when she could speak.
‘Amore,’ he breathed, and kissed her again. He retrieved his suitcase, keeping his free arm firmly around her as they made for the exit. ‘We need a taxi?’
‘No. I drove.’ She smiled up at him. ‘First we have lunch with Bron and George, then I drive you to my place. Tomorrow evening we’re having dinner with Megan and Rhys, but tonight it’s just you and me.’
‘Perfetto,’ he assured her, his eyes devouring her as they made for the car. ‘You look so young today, Alicia; like the teenager I lost my heart to in Firenze.’
Since her aim in wearing jeans and a T-shirt with her hair in a loose braid had been exactly that, she smiled radiantly. ‘I thought you’d be pleased.’
The lunch with Bron and George was a great success. The two men took to each other on sight, and Bron’s welcome to her son-in-law was so much warmer than their previous encounters he gently teased her about it over the meal.
‘You are not angry because I take your daughter away from you again?’ he asked later.
Bron shook her head. ‘No, Francesco, because that’s very obviously what her heart desires.’
He gave Alicia a look that brought a tear to her mother’s eye. ‘It is what my heart desires also. And this time,’ he added very seriously, ‘I will take great care to make her happy, Bronwen.’
They lingered over coffee afterwards until at last George took pity on Francesco and suggested the pair resume their journey.
‘We can talk longer next time, but you’d better be on your way now to beat rush hour into Cardiff,’ he added, with a look at his wife.
‘Good thinking, darling,’ she said promptly, and hugged her daughter, and then Francesco, as they said their goodbyes.
‘I probably won’t drive fast enough for you,’ Alicia told Francesco once they were on their way.
‘Now we are alone together, I am in no hurry,’ he said, sitting back, relaxed. ‘It is good just to sit here in your little car and enjoy being together again after so long.’
‘It was only three days, Francesco,’ she said, smiling.
‘It felt like three years. Let us have no more partings. We have wasted too much time already, carina.’
On the way up in the lift to her apartment, Francesco gave Alicia a wry smile.
‘What are you thinking?’ she asked.
‘I was remembering the first time we did this, carina. You were very tense.’
‘It was your smell.’
‘Cosa?’ he demanded, appalled.
‘You still use the same cologne, or whatever. It brought everything back so vividly, I could hardly breathe,’ she confessed as the lift door opened, and smiled at him. ‘This time it will be different.’
It was. The moment they were inside the flat Francesco dumped the suitcase and swept her up in his arms to make for the bedroom she’d cleaned and polished the day before in anticipation of just this moment.
‘It is time for a siesta,’ he said unevenly as he laid her on the bed.
‘Yes please,’ she said, with such fervour he laughed joyously as he began to undress her.
Within seconds they were naked in each other’s arms, so on fire for each other that with no preliminaries of any kind they were caught up in the heat and joy of a union made all the more passionate by their brief, but nerve-wracking parting. Francesco told his wife over and over again in two languages how much he loved her.
‘We must never be parted again,’ he said huskily at last, holding her close. ‘Tell me you feel this also, Alicia.’
‘Of course I do!’ She turned her face up to kiss him. ‘Ti amo, Francesco.’
A fortnight later, after a round of farewell parties, the final, most important celebration of all was held in Blake Street. Eira Davies had begged the privilege of hosting it in the house where Alicia had grown up. And Bron was happy to agree.
‘You’re a much better cook than I am, Eira, anyway,’ she told her friend affectionately. ‘Only don’t exhaust yourself. It’s just the family.’
‘She’ll have me peeling and chopping for hours,’ said Huw gloomily, and grinned at George. ‘Fancy lending a hand?’
‘I can help also,’ offered Francesco, and instead of refusing politely, as Alicia had expected, Eira promptly co-opted him into the all-important business of organising the wine.
‘But choosing only, mind, no paying,’ warned Eira, patting Alicia’s hand. ‘We’re only too glad to do this for our girl.’
‘You are most kind.’ Francesco acquiesced gracefully. ‘So first we celebrate our reunion here, then soon you must all come back to Montedaluca to stay at the castello for another celebration.’
But, unlike the cosy, comfortable family party in Cardiff, the celebration Francesco had planned in Montedaluca promised to be the event of the year. The town was agog with the news that il conte had organised a special charity match at the rugby club he had helped develop to such a standard it now competed in a minor Italian league. The proceeds from ticket sales would provide new equipment for the children’s wing of the town’s hospital, and the count himself would be playing in a team of veterans composed of friends from his rugby-playing days, and also friends and relatives of the countess. And after the game there was to be a party with a display of fireworks, after a supper provided by Mario Ponti, whose son Guido played in the star position of outside half.
‘Amazing place you have here, Francesco,’ said David Rees-Jones as Giacomo served drinks on the castello terrace the night before the match.
‘It is home,’ said Francesco simply, his eyes on Alicia, who was laughing with Megan at the sallies of Gareth’s teammates. ‘Scusi, David. I think I must rescue my wife.’
‘Don’t worry, mate, she’s used to fending off rugby players.’
‘I know all about rugby players,’ said Francesco darkly, and grinned. ‘I was one myself.’
‘And you’d better live up to your reputation tomorrow,’ warned David. ‘I’ve been training like a madman since I was idiot enough to say yes to your wife about this.’
‘Alicia is very persuasive,’ agreed Francesco, smiling at her across the terrace.
‘Clever girl all round. We miss her back home—she was great at her job.’ With regret David, refused another drink. ‘Better keep a clear head. I just hope I’ll be in one piece this time tomorrow!’
‘Of course you will, amico. Come and talk to my great-aunt. Zia Luisa thinks you’re very handsome.’
David preened. ‘Does she, indeed? She’s pretty handsome herself. I bet she was an absolute corker when she was a girl.’
Francesco repeated this to Luisa, who was enjoying herself enormously, with Bronwen on one side and Eira on the other. She gave David a flirtatious smile as he bowed low before them.
‘The Three Graces themselves,’ he said reverently. ‘Will you be at the match tomorrow, ladies?’
‘Wouldn’t miss it,’ Bron assured him, and smiled at Francesco. ‘Eira here can cheer on Gareth, while Luisa and I support my son-in-law.’
‘I shall do my best for you, Bronwen,’ he assured her. ‘I shall leave you ladies with my good friend here, but now I must help Gareth defend Megan and my wife from their admirers!’
‘They might not want to be defended,’ said Eira sweetly, and grinned naughtily as Francesco scowled.
‘Let your wife be, Francesco,’ said Luisa placidly, and smiled indulgently at the other women. ‘He does not like to let her out of his sight.’
Francesco nodded, unruffled. ‘Do you blame me? Ah, Giacomo is having a word with Alicia. I think dinner is about to arrive. It is served early tonight, to make sure all the veterans get to bed early in preparation for tomorrow.’
The following day it was plain from the start that the veteran team was taking the match very seriously indeed. Francesco had seated his family and guests in a special box looking down on the halfway touchline, and from the moment the capacity crowd roared as he jogged onto the field with his team of veterans Alicia felt the same electricity in the air she’d experienced at the match in Cardiff, where they had been reunited.
‘Francesco’s in very good shape,’ commented George. ‘Gareth too.’
‘Gareth plays regularly, mind, so he should be,’ said Huw, eyeing the youthful home team as they came running onto the pitch. ‘These lads are a bit lighter than the veterans, but they’ll be faster to make up for it.’
Alicia tried to relax, to enjoy the sunshine and the idyllic setting of the small rugby ground, packed today for the occasion. But secretly she was praying that Francesco would not only do well in front of his home crowd for his sake, but manage to avoid any injuries to his person while he was doing it for her own.
‘Relax,’ murmured Megan, alongside her. ‘Your husband looks pretty fit to me.’
Alicia smiled ruefully. ‘He trains regularly with the team. Such a pity Rhys couldn’t come, Meg. He’d have loved this.’
‘I know. But holiday time has left his department short-staffed, so he had to stay behind, poor love.’
‘You do realise,’ muttered Bron, ‘That this is the first rugby match I’ve ever watched?’
‘You’ll enjoy it,’ her daughter assured her, and grinned. ‘And there’ll be champagne and gorgeous food at the party afterwards.’
‘Why else do you think I came?’
It soon became clear that experience was as valuable an asset in a rugby player as youth, when the old hands began demonstrating their skills. Francesco had delighted Alicia by asking Gareth to captain the team from his position at No. 8, in a pack which contained two of his teammates from his rugby club as flankers. David Rees-Jones was playing in the centre as one of a pair with one of Gareth’s friends, and the rest of the team was made up of Francesco’s former club friends, including the vital half-back pairing.
‘Francesco says that Enzo Manetti, the outside half, used to be a miraculous place kicker,’ said George, on his feet with Huw as Enzo took a long pass from his scrum half and sent it out to David, who was promptly brought down by three of the opposing team.
‘Oops,’ muttered Alicia, then heaved a sigh of relief as David jumped up and play resumed.
It was a fast and furious game, so fast that at half time, when the scores were even, some of the veterans were very obviously glad of a breather. Francesco grinned up at Alicia as the teams ran back out to resume play, and she waved back, flushing slightly as she caught Huw’s eye.
‘Don’t worry, cariad. He can still run fast enough to stay out of trouble.’
‘Not that fast,’ she said tightly as two of the opposing forwards sent Francesco crashing to the ground.
‘It’s all right, Lally,’ said Megan. ‘He’s up and running again.’
The game became more ragged as players, both young and mature, began to tire. Then young Guido made a dash for the line and grounded the ball just out of reach of Gareth’s tackle, and the crowd went mad. They were even more vociferous as the ball sailed between the posts from Guido’s kick to convert the try, and Montedaluca were seven points ahead. The play immediately surged the other way as the ball went from hand to hand among the veteran three-quarter line, and Enzo Maretti sold a dummy to the man chasing him, did a graceful turn and kicked the ball between the posts for a perfect drop goal, reducing the home team’s lead by three. By this time everyone in the crowd, including Francesco’s guests, were on their feet as play surged back and forth. Then, in a move so smooth they might have been practising it on the same team for years, Enzo Maretti took a long throw from his scrum half, passed it to David, who sent it winging to Francesco, and Alicia screamed encouragement at the top of her voice as Francesco caught the ball and ran like the wind towards the line, sidestepping and evading his opponents on the way. He snatched a look to see if he had support, saw Gareth frantically waving him on, and made a final spurt which landed him over the line with arm outstretched to ground the ball, his smile unquenched when several of the opposing team landed on top of him.
The party after the game was a jubilant affair, in spite of the aches and pains of some of the veterans, including David’s black eye and Francesco’s fiercely guarded secret of an aching knee.
‘My hero,’ said Alicia as the champagne circulated before the buffet supper. ‘I hope the local press photographer caught your try, darling.’
‘I hope so too—it will never happen again!’ Francesco grinned down at her, then clapped Gareth on the shoulder. ‘Thank you, captain. It was good today, no?’
‘Absolutely brilliant,’ said Gareth.
‘Daverro,’ agreed Francesco. ‘How are you feeling, David?’
‘Old,’ was the bitter reply. ‘These lads of yours are good, Francesco.’
‘I’ll just pop off and congratulate your old teammates, Francesco,’ said Alicia. ‘It was so good of them to come and help.’
She went on a round of the visiting rugby players, taking Megan with her in support, and there was a great deal of laughter and kissing of cheeks as they congratulated the jubilant men on their magnificent performance. Then everyone took their places for the buffet supper, even Zia Luisa, who was so delighted with the occasion she refused to go home until she’d seen the fireworks promised for later.
After supper Francesco made a graceful speech in two languages, handed over a sizeable cheque to the hospital administrator, then ushered everyone outside to watch the firework display.
‘That was a wonderful try,’ Alicia said in his ear, during a pause while the second round of fireworks was made ready. ‘I screamed myself hoarse as you went tearing down the field. But we were very relieved when the final whistle blew and you came off the field unhurt.’
‘We?’ murmured Francesco, holding her closer. ‘You mean you, Megan and your mother?’
‘No. Baby and me,’ she said into his chest, and felt it expand against her with a huge intake of breath.
‘At last,’ he breathed into her hair. ‘I have been waiting so patiently for you to tell me.’
Alicia raised her eyes to his. ‘You knew?’
He smiled, his eyes reflecting the rainbow of colours as round after round of coloured stars shot into the sky. ‘I can count, tesoro.’
‘Oh, I see.’ She eyed him anxiously. ‘Are you pleased—Papa?’
‘Pleased?’ He bent his head and kissed her quickly as everyone’s attention stayed with the display. ‘I am the happiest man in the world. Ti amo, tesoro.’
As the last of the rockets went off, the world went silent and the sky was left to the stars. With a concerted sigh the guests turned back inside for a last glass of champagne. Alicia found her mother, had a quick word which widened Bron’s eyes in delight, then did the same with Eira and Megan, and finally with Luisa and Bianca. Then she returned to Francesco.
‘Care to make an announcement as you say goodnight?’
‘If you allow me I would like that very much, carissima—grazie.’ Francesco turned to face his guests, tapped on his glass, and once again thanked everyone, spectators and players, for making the event such a successful occasion. ‘And now,’ he added, putting his arm around his wife. ‘Please raise your glasses to celebrate this special day. Much money was raised for the children’s wing and the match was a personal triumph—I even scored a try my knees may never recover from! But as the crowning touch to the day Alicia has just given me the most wonderful news—by the end of the next Six Nations my wife and I will be parents!’