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‘If you’re sure...’
Elena ignored her and Cesare put down the papers he was reading and took off his glasses. ‘Go. Let the model dry out tonight and bring it up to the site tomorrow morning. If anyone asks for you I’ll say you’ve been working this weekend and you’re spending the morning at home.’
He put his glasses back on and returned to his papers. It seemed as if the matter was settled.
‘Thank you. I really appreciate it.’ As Rose walked out of the room she thought she heard Elena chuckle quietly behind her.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
MATTEO WAS SITTING on the veranda, letting the evening breeze catch his thoughts and carry them away. He’d always loved the quiet of the evening here after the noise of a day spent at work, or with family or friends. Tonight, though, it felt as if there was something missing.
He heard the sound of a car, and when he looked around the glimmer of headlights was shining through the front windows. It was a little late for anyone to turn up unannounced, and he wondered who it was, and whether something was up. Heaving himself out of his chair, he walked to the front door.
Rose was standing by her car, dressed in jeans and a white top, with a lacy cardigan thrown around her shoulders. She seemed a little agitated, and since it was obvious that she wasn’t about to come to him, he hurried over to her.
‘Hey. I was just thinking about you.’
She smiled up at him. ‘All good, I hope.’
‘Good doesn’t cover it.’ She seemed a little ill at ease, and he took her hand, pressing her fingers to his lips.
‘I... William’s in bed and Elena said she’d look after him tonight...’
‘You’ve come back. And you’re staying?’ Suddenly, everything that had been missing from the last couple of hours was back where it should be.
‘Do you mind?’ She looked up at him, her eyes bright in the failing light.
‘Do I mind? Get inside, before I pick you up and carry you.’
* * *
He’d helped her pack her things up for the morning, and then he’d poured them both a glass of wine and they’d taken it down onto the beach. It was dark, and although the breeze was still warm, Rose snuggled against him.
‘It’s so beautiful here. And the lifestyle’s...different from London.’
‘Yeah. I love it, even if I do miss the buzz of London from time to time.’
‘You know, I’ve been thinking. You speak Sicilian at home, and Italian and English...’
‘Yeah?’
‘It all seems pretty complicated to me. Didn’t you get confused?’
He shrugged. ‘Not really. When you grow up with more than one language, you just use whichever one’s being spoken around you. My sister’s married to an Englishman, and she speaks Italian to her children, while he speaks only English. My nephews use both very naturally.’
‘Okay, so I’ve got to ask. What do they speak to each other?’
Matteo chuckled. ‘She tells me that they speak the language of love. I think they argue in Italian, though.’
‘You think the English can’t argue?’ She nudged him in the ribs.
‘It wouldn’t ever occur to me to say that. Particularly not to you. You argue beautifully.’
‘You think I’m getting the hang of being argumentative, then?’
He chuckled. ‘Once you master the irregular verbs, you’ll be fluent.’
‘William’s picking up Italian really well. I was wondering if it might be a good idea to encourage him to continue speaking it after we got home. But I’m worried it might confuse him. What do you think?’
