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ls that seemed to offer perfectly good, fresh produce before he got to the ones where he stopped to buy and taste. Clearly, just reaching for a net of oranges, the way that Rose did at the supermarket at home, wasn’t in his shopping vocabulary.
Inside the huge, covered market there was a whole new set of sights and smells. Stalls with different kinds of cheese. Fresh fish, laid on ice and still smelling of the sea. Coffee beans, which Matteo lingered over for a while before making his choice.
‘Don’t you want to stock up a bit?’ He’d bought a small packet of coffee, just about enough to last a week.
‘What for? They’ll be here next week, and it’s better to buy fresh.’
‘What if they’re not here next week?’ This way of life seemed based on so many uncertainties.
Matteo laughed. ‘Then I’ll go over there.’ He nodded towards another stall, a press of people crowded round it. ‘That’s the thing about a market. You buy for today. Tomorrow will take care of itself.’
This wasn’t the careful, thoughtful Matteo that she’d seen at the hospital or on site. He was well and truly off duty, laid back and living in the moment.
He turned his attention back to William, whom he was carrying on his hip now, and reached for a sliver of cheese from a stall and gave it to him. ‘You like that?’
William nodded, taking another bite. It was nice to see them together, but Matteo seemed a little distant from her today. Maybe the bond she’d felt with him over her work was just that, a common interest in the work and not each other. She would have sworn she’d seen his own very personal response on more than one occasion, though.
Maybe he was just one of those men who didn’t feel it was appropriate to flirt with a mother in the presence of her child. And that was all to the good. If Matteo was just a friend in William’s eyes, then he could never get hurt.
She reached into her bag, pulling out her purse and turning to William. ‘If you like it, I’ll get some.’
Matteo signalled to the stall holder, who hurried across to take her order.
* * *
He took her heavy shopping bag, so that she’d have her hands free. The idea of Rose being free of all the weight that she carried was intoxicating.
She had a demanding job, and a child to care for. And she seemed to do it all with such ease, even though he knew that it was anything but easy. In the moments when her mask had slipped, he’d seen the stress and the sadness that she guarded so carefully, as if it were something terrible that had the power to overturn everything, instead of just simple, human emotion.
‘What are you doing for lunch?’ They’d turned, meandering back the way they’d come, towards the cars.
‘I thought we might eat out somewhere. Would you like to join us?’ Her bright eyes stirred something deep inside him. Something he’d rather not admit to but which couldn’t be resisted.
‘I’ve got a better idea. Come to my place, there’s a beach just behind the house, and William can play there.’ If he got Rose on her own, then there might be the chance of the one look that he craved. That closeness, which had eluded them this morning.
‘You have your own beach?’
‘It’s not really mine. It’s pretty secluded, though. You either have to walk across the cliff tops or through the house to get to it.’
She nodded. ‘Okay, thanks. I’ve got William’s beach things in the car. Is it very far?’
‘Just outside Palermo. Not very far at all.’
* * *
Matteo’s home was an effortless combination of old and new, stylish but at the same time comfortable in its secluded, rural setting. The irregular, pale stonework, the arched doorway and the long shuttered windows, with wrought-iron balconies on the first floor, were all in the traditional style of some of the larger houses she’d seen in Sicily. But the house boasted an extra storey, modern and white painted, set back a little behind a high stone lip that ran around the edge of what had originally been the roof.
It was picture-book pretty. The idea of someone living here, all year round, was an exercise in almost impossible dreams.
Matteo stopped his car in the semi-circular drive and got out, waiting as Rose drew up behind him. Then he led her and William around the side of the house, through a gate and up a short flight of stone steps onto a roofed patio, which ran the full width of the house and was edged by stone balustrades. A table and chairs, along with wicker easy chairs, attested to the fact that he must spend a lot of his time outside. Who wouldn’t, if they lived here? The only thing between the patio and the sea was a strip of sandy beach.
She followed him into the house, keeping hold of William’s hand. To the right was a large, modern kitchen, of the kind of unfussy good quality that put cooking and eating at a premium. To the left was an open-plan seating area that seemed to take up most of the space on the ground floor, the clean lines of the pale leather seating and elegant glass table showing off the best of modern Italian design.
William was looking around, open-mouthed. That would have pretty much been Rose’s reaction if she couldn’t feel Matteo’s quiet gaze on her. Instead, she tried to formulate some kind of cogent opinion.
‘What a lovely location. Did you make the alterations to the house? On the roof?’
‘The extra storey was there when I bought it but the place had been empty for a while and it was in a pretty bad state. I added a roof garden at the back.’
