Читать книгу An Italian Engagement - CATHERINE GEORGE, Catherine George - Страница 7

‘GIANNI’S little joke,’ Max said, resigned. ‘My mother insists on calling me that because it was her father’s name, but legally, and to everyone else, I’m Max.’

The waiter interrupted them to refill glasses with wine, but after a word from Max he left them in peace.

‘I don’t know what you said, but the poor boy looked really hurt,’ said Abby reproachfully.

Max shrugged, unrepentant. ‘Don’t worry—the “poor boy” will be back the minute you swallow your last mouthful.’

She laughed, and went on with her meal with concentration which amused her companion. She set down her fork at last with a sigh. ‘That was wonderful.’

‘How about dessert?’ said Max, rolling his eyes as the waiter hurried to their table.

‘No room,’ she said, trying not to laugh.

‘Then it’s back to your hotel. Unless you fancy another stroll around town?’

‘It’s certainly a delightful place,’ she said obliquely, wishing now that she’d agreed to dessert if it meant more time with Max Wingate. Did she like him that much, then? Who was she kidding? Of course she did! Once he’d simmered down after the fright she’d given him he’d gone out of his way to help a stranger who’d not only disrupted his day but who had also almost given him a heart attack in the process. Gianni oozed natural charm, but Max’s hard-edged persona appealed to her far more. There was something compelling about the dark, heavy-lidded eyes which gave her a shivery feeling every time they met hers.

‘What are you thinking about?’ he asked, so softly she had to crane to hear him above the noise and bustle of the restaurant.

Abby felt her face grow hot. ‘Just how kind and helpful you’ve been.’

He leaned nearer. ‘Don’t endow me with non-existent virtues! I was kind as a means to an end—to coax you to spend the evening with me.’

She eyed him quizzically. ‘Because you had to cancel your chess game?’

He shook his head. ‘Aldo’s the builder who worked with me on the house. I can play chess with him any time. When fate sent you up my road instead of Gianni’s only a fool would have passed up the chance to take advantage of it. And I may be many things, but I’m no fool, Abigail Green.’

‘I believe you!’

He sat back, studying her. ‘Do you get much hassle from the male celebrities you deal with?’

‘Sometimes it’s a bit tricky with the ones who forget they’re married, but nothing I can’t handle with tact—so far.’ Abby looked up with a smile for the waiter as he brought their espressos. ‘Generally I get on well with men.’

‘So I see!’

‘I meant the men I meet professionally. And the ones in college, too. Before that, in school, all my friends were girls. I was a real turn-off for the boys at that stage—too skinny, too tall and too much of a swot.’ She smiled philosophically. ‘But by the time I went up to Cambridge to university I’d filled out a bit, everyone else was clever—a lot of them much more than me—and my social life took off into the fast lane.’

‘I can well believe that!’ He got up, and held out his hand. ‘So, Miss Green. If you’ve finished your coffee and you can tear yourself away from our attentive waiter, let’s rejoin the evening passeggiata for a while.’

Under a full moon the city looked more romantic than ever. Warning her to beware of uneven cobbles in some of the darker streets, Max took Abby’s hand in his as they made a leisurely tour of some of the restored medieval houses, and after a while suggested they observe local custom and make for the gelateria across the park, to sample the local ice cream. ‘It’s very good—they make it with fresh fruit.’

‘I’m still full of that fabulous meal,’ Abby said with regret. ‘Could we just wander round a bit more instead?’

‘Anything you want,’ he assured her, surprised to find he meant it quite literally. It was a long time since he’d walked anywhere hand in hand with a girl, and never with one who appealed to him as much as Abigail Green. ‘Poor Gianni. This pastime is a simple pleasure he can’t enjoy any more in his home town—one of the downsides to celebrity.’

‘He must have a girlfriend, surely?’

Max nodded. ‘But so far he’s managed to keep her identity secret—even from his mother. Lord knows how. She thinks he tells her everything. Gianni confided in me because he was bursting to tell someone, but he wouldn’t give me a name—probably because she’s someone Luisa wouldn’t approve of.’

‘In what way?’

He shrugged. ‘In his mother’s eyes no woman in the world is good enough for Giancarlo Falcone.’

Abby eyed the aquiline profile curiously. ‘He calls her Mamma. You don’t.’

‘If you met her you wouldn’t believe she’s old enough to be Gianni’s mother, let alone mine.’ He smiled down at her. ‘How about you? What about your parents?’

‘My father died when I was little, so my mother brought us up almost single-handed. She’s due in Venice next week to meet her baby grandson.’ Abby smiled affectionately. ‘Mother thought it only right to let his Italian grandparents get their visit in first. They own a restored farmhouse not far from here. Laura and Domenico spent their honeymoon there.’

‘The ideal place for it.’ Max halted as clocks began chiming. ‘Alas, the witching hour. Time to get back to the car.’

Abby smiled warmly at him as they walked. ‘Thank you so much for dinner and the fascinating tour of Todi. I enjoyed every minute of it.’

His hand tightened on hers. ‘A pity you’re not staying longer so I could persuade you to do it all again.’

‘Perhaps you’ll come to one of the concerts in London before I finish.’

He shook his head. ‘If I do you’ll be too busy to spend time with me. How about dinner with me one night instead?’

Abby saw no point in being coy. ‘I’d like that very much.’

‘In that case—’ Max broke off as his phone rang. With a word of apology he listened for a moment before answering in fluent, irritable Italian. The heated conversation went on at length while he helped Abby into the car. When he finally slid into the driver’s seat Max gave her a wry smile. ‘My apologies. That was Gianni in full flow.’

‘Something wrong?’

‘As far as he’s concerned total disaster. Luisa’s taken it into her head to make a surprise visit to the Villa Falcone. She’s ordered Gianni to meet her off the train in Perugia tomorrow.’

‘He’s not happy with that?’

‘He’s devastated. She’s interrupting his idyll with the mystery lady.’

‘Ah! So was he asking you to fetch your mother instead?’

‘Practically begging. He’s desperate to spend every minute he can with the love of his life, so he implored me to help him out. If I fetch his mother from Perugia tomorrow afternoon he can spend a few extra hours with his innamorata.’ A smile played at the corners of his mouth. ‘I said I’ll ring him back to give my answer.’

‘So will you help him?’

‘I told him I had to sort something out first. You’re travelling by train to Pisa tomorrow for the flight to London?’

‘Yes,’ said Abby cautiously.

‘Then here’s the plan. I drive you to Perugia, and see you off on the train to Pisa before I meet the one from Venice.’ Max paused to gauge her reaction. ‘Afterwards I drive back to the Villa Falcone at a snail’s pace which, for entirely different reasons, will please both Luisa and Gianni. And somewhere along the way I’ll ring him with an ETA so he can pursue love’s young dream to the last possible moment.’ He grinned. ‘His mamma’s coming to make sure he gets enough sleep before the Rome engagement, with no idea that he wants to do his sleeping with Signorina X.’

Abby chuckled. ‘Oh, bad luck, Gianni! Are you willing to do that for him?’

‘Yes. What do you say? It’s one train connection less for you.’

‘Then I’ll say thank you very much indeed.’ She eyed him curiously. ‘Wouldn’t it be quicker for your mother to fly?’

He shrugged. ‘She won’t. She refuses to travel by road, either, if she can help it, which is why Enzo, my stepfather, bought the apartment in Venice. Water taxis and trains are Luisa’s preferred mode of travel. She’ll get a surprise when I turn up as chauffeur,’ he added. ‘She doesn’t even know I’m in the country.’

Abby was silent as they reached the hotel.

‘Penny for them?’ he said, turning to her.

‘I was just thinking that it’s very kind of you to drive me to Perugia tomorrow.’

His eyes locked on hers. ‘If it weren’t for Gianni and his love-life I’d drive you all the way to Pisa.’

Abby felt a lurch somewhere in the region of her midriff. ‘Just to Perugia will be a great help,’ she assured him.

‘In that case I’ll ring Gianni and tell him it’s on.’ Max began another rapid conversation with his brother, grinning broadly when he disconnected. ‘Gianni practically burst into song with gratitude.’

‘Will you take your mother up to your house first, to give him extra time with his lady?’

‘No. According to Luisa the journey there is bad for her heart.’

Abby chuckled. ‘I see her point, and there’s nothing wrong with my heart! I must go in,’ she added regretfully. ‘The train from Perugia leaves at eleven fifty-two, according to my timetable. What time will you pick me up?’

‘Ten sharp.’

‘Perfect. I can have a leisurely breakfast instead of rushing off to catch the local train. Thank you—again,’ she added, and smiled. ‘I seem to have said nothing else to you from the moment we met.’

‘Not quite,’ he said, and took her hand. ‘When I mistook you for one of Gianni’s fans you were ready to punch me.’

‘But I am a fan. I merely objected to the way you said it. Besides,’ she added, eyes kindling, ‘I’d just driven up those terrifying bends—on the wrong side of the road for me, remember—then the car broke down, and as the last straw this ball of flame came bursting out of the dust like something from an action film. I was petrified.’

‘So was I.’ He turned to look at her. ‘But once I could breathe normally again I realised I’d run into the best-looking damsel in distress a man could hope to meet.’

She eyed him narrowly. ‘I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or a sexist remark.’

‘It’s the simple truth.’ Max laughed, squeezed her hand, then went round the car to help her out. ‘I’ll see you safely inside, then get back to my retreat.’

* * *

The hotel bed was comfortable, but Abby lay awake for some time, her mind full of the eventful day which had begun with the surprisingly painful parting from her sister. Still at the mercy of her hormones, Laura had been a little tearful as she begged Abby to return soon and stay a lot longer. By that time, Domenico assured her, they would have moved into the new apartment with more rooms and a proper bed for Abby. After sharing a sofa with her little niece most of the night, Abby was glad to hear it. Isabella had needed much cuddling and reassurance to calm fears that Papa and Mamma wouldn’t love her so much now they had a new boy baby. Abby had relayed the news to Isabella’s shocked parents first thing next morning, and offered to look after baby Marco while they took their daughter out later for some kind of special treat.

‘You’re sure you’re up for this?’ Laura had asked before they left.

‘Of course I am. If he yells, Auntie will sing to him. That should shut him up. Ciao, Bella.’

Isabella held her face up, mouth puckered for a kiss. ‘Ciao, Zietta.’

Domenico grinned. ‘Ciao, Auntie. Do I get a kiss too?’

‘On the cheek,’ warned Laura.

‘Both cheeks,’ said her handsome husband, suiting action to words before turning to kiss his wife full on her smiling mouth.

‘For heaven’s sake, go while Marco’s quiet,’ hissed Abby, laughing. ‘You can do that sort of thing later.’

Abby smiled into the darkness. After providing a shoulder for more than one friend to cry on when a relationship went wrong, it was reassuring to know that everything was so obviously right with Laura’s marriage. Which was more than could be said for Max Wingate’s relationship with his mother. But it could hardly be sibling jealousy in his case, because he was obviously very fond of Gianni. Maybe he just didn’t like his mother, though blessed with Isabel Green as a parent this was hard for Abby to imagine. But perhaps Max had never forgiven his mother for marrying again—which probably had a lot to do with the hardness in his eyes…Abby tried to shut him from her mind. She needed her beauty sleep if she wanted to look good when Max arrived to collect her.

* * *

Abby got up early next morning to pack before her breakfast arrived. Just before ten she went down to the foyer to find Max waiting for her, elegant in linen trousers and a formal shirt with a tie tucked in the pocket.

‘Good morning,’ he said, smiling. ‘Did you sleep well?’

‘Very well—after two nights on a sofa it was a treat to sleep in a bed. I just need to pay my bill.’

‘No rush, I’m early. I’ll take your gear out to the car.’

When Abby went out to join him, Max was leaning against the Range Rover looking into the distance, the sun gleaming on his sleek dark hair. On impulse she slipped her phone from her bag and took a surreptitious photograph of him. A souvenir of her trip to Todi, she told herself, then put the phone away quickly as he turned to smile at her.

‘You’re more relaxed today,’ he commented later, as the car ate up the kilometres on the road to Perugia.

‘Not so much in the way of hairpin bends on this route,’ she pointed out. ‘Besides, we met in stressful circumstances yesterday.’

‘True.’ He grinned. ‘Right, then, Miss Green, fill me in on some background. You’ve heard a lot about my mother; tell me more about yours.’

Abby smiled affectionately. ‘She’s in her early fifties, but looks ten years younger. She’s head teacher at the local primary school, blonde like my sister Laura, and a very attractive lady.’

‘But she’s never presented you with a stepfather. Would you have minded if she had?’

Abby thought about it. ‘I don’t honestly know. The three of us were a pretty tight unit for years, and the cottage is small. Adding a stepfather to the mix could have caused problems, I suppose. But as far as I know the question never arose. Did you resent your stepfather?’ she added.

He shook his head. ‘I never thought of Enzo in that way because I lived with my own father in London. I just stayed at the Villa Falcone for the obligatory holiday every summer.’

‘Is that the most your father would allow?’

‘It was the most I would agree to at first.’

‘You didn’t like it there?’

‘It wasn’t the house. My feelings towards my mother were the problem.’ He paused, his eyes on the road, then glanced at her briefly and went on. ‘Luisa took a trip home alone to Todi just after my tenth birthday, met up with Enzo, childhood sweetheart transformed into wealthy businessman, and never came back.’

‘And you never forgave her?’

His mouth tightened. ‘I turned against her completely. I kicked up a terrible fuss when I eventually saw her again, because by then she had a new husband and a new baby.’

Abby kept quiet for a while, but curiosity eventually got the better of her. ‘If you don’t get on with your mother why did you build your retreat in Italy?’

‘I didn’t build it, exactly. I just designed the plans to put it back together. It had once been the home of Enzo Falcone’s great-grandparents, and during those long summer holidays he used to take us up there for picnics. I loved the place so much he made me a present of the property when I was eighteen.’ Max smiled crookedly. ‘He liked me. Against all odds I liked him, too. And, stranger still, so did my father. Whenever Enzo came on business to London, as he did quite frequently, he’d take us both out to dinner. And because I was studying architecture Enzo trusted me to transform his old ruin into something beautiful one day.’

‘You certainly did that. It’s a magical place.’

‘I’m glad you see it that way. Aldo the builder was all for knocking it down and starting from scratch, but to retain its character I wanted to incorporate as much of the original building as possible into my plans.’

‘Was your stepfather pleased with the result?’

‘Unfortunately, he died before it was finished. I miss him.’ Max’s face shadowed for an instant. ‘Next time you come I’ll show you the rest of it. I’ve converted the old threshing ground into a long, narrow pool, and the covered terrace outside the master bedroom looks out on the best view in the house.’

‘Which is saying something,’ said Abby, liking the sound of ‘next time’.

Visited by a sudden, vivid picture of Abigail Green in the master bedroom, sharing it with him, Max slanted a glance at her. ‘How did your sister come to marry an Italian?’

‘Laura went to Venice on holiday. Domenico was asked to meet her at the airport and they are now living happily ever after.’

‘Will that last?’

Abby nodded firmly. ‘In spite of gloomy statistics, I’m certain it will.’

‘Would you like something similar yourself?’

‘Maybe. One day.’

‘So there’s no man in your life right now?’

‘No.’ Abby shrugged. ‘Relationships tend to fall by the wayside because of my job. The most recent came to an end partly because the man wanted a woman he could see on Saturday nights without the drag of sitting through an easy-listening type of concert beforehand. Silas thought there was no other god but Mozart.’

Fool, thought Max with scorn. ‘My tastes are a shade wider than that. I never tire of listening to Gianni, but I own up to a taste for the odd spot of jazz—even a burst of heavy metal on wilder days.’

‘Do you have those often?’

He shot a glance at her. ‘You’d be surprised.’

She laughed. ‘I pictured you as another Mozart man.’

‘Only when Gianni’s performing it.’

They reached the colonnaded portico of Fontivegge station with an hour to spare before the train was due. Max went inside with Abby to confirm the change en route to Pisa, punched the ticket Domenico had bought for her into one of the yellow machines near the entrance to validate it, and then took her to the café to eat ham paninis with their espressos.

‘Right,’ said Max briskly, when it was time to make a move. ‘At this point we exchange phone numbers, addresses, and any other pertinent information, Abigail Green.’ He entered her number into his phone, then waited while she did the same with his, handed her a card with his address and home number, scrawled hers on the back of another and tucked it into his wallet.

‘You’ve been such an enormous help,’ said Abby, smiling at him gratefully. ‘I’ve run out of ways to thank you.’

Max could think of several that would suit him down to the ground. ‘Here’s one. I’ll be back in the UK at the weekend, so have lunch with me on Sunday. Say yes. Your train leaves soon.’

‘Then, yes. I’d like that very much. Thank you—’ She broke off with a laugh. ‘There I go again!’

He smiled. ‘Thank me again by reporting in tonight.’

‘I will,’ she promised, and looked at her watch. ‘I’d better be on my way.’

‘And I’d better get into my jacket and put this blasted tie on, ready to meet with my lady mother’s approval.’

Max hefted her bag, his tall, lean body looking good to Abby in the kind of suit Italian tailors cut to such perfection. He took her hand in his as they walked along the concourse, and she liked the touch of it on her skin. She’d liked it the night before on their stroll round Todi, and suddenly wished quite violently that she wasn’t about to say goodbye to Max Wingate. When her train was ready to board he reminded her to change in Florence, then took her in his arms.

‘This is another way you can thank me.’ He kissed her very thoroughly, holding her so tightly she was hot and breathless when he let her go. ‘Arrivederci,’ he said huskily, and trailed a finger down her flushed cheek. ‘Safe journey, Abby. Talk to me tonight.’