The Rinuccis: Carlo, Ruggiero & Francesco: The Italian's Wife by Sunset

But he did none of them. Instead, almost without realising that he was moving, he went to stand in front of them. It was the young man who saw him first.

‘Hey, I think your friend’s here,’ he said cheerfully.

Della looked up, smiling, but making no effort to disentangle herself from the embrace.

‘Hallo, darling,’ she said. ‘You haven’t met my son, have you?’

Carlo clenched his hands. Her son! Who did she think she was kidding?

‘Very funny,’ he said coldly. ‘How old were you when you had him? Six?’

The young man roared with laughter, making Carlo dream of murder.

‘It’s your own fault for looking so young,’ he told her.

She chuckled and disengaged herself.

‘I was sixteen when Sol was born,’ she told Carlo. ‘I told you that once before.’

‘Yes, but—’ Carlo fell silent.

‘And he’s twenty-one now,’ she finished. ‘He looks older because he’s built like an ox.’

Sol grinned at this description and extended his hand. Dazed, Carlo shook it.

‘We had no idea you were coming,’ he said, appalled at how stupid the words sounded. But stupid was exactly how he felt.

‘No, I thought I’d drop in and pay my old lady an unexpected visit,’ Sol said cheerfully. ‘I thought she’d only be here for a couple of days. When she didn’t return I decided to come and see what mischief she was up to.’ His ribald glance made it clear that he’d already formed his own opinion.

Carlo decided that he could dislike Sol very much if he put his mind to it. But he forced himself to say politely, ‘I hope you’ll stay long enough to visit my family? We’re having dinner with them tomorrow night, and of course you must join us.’

‘Love to. Fine—I’ll be off now.’ He kissed Della’s cheek. ‘I’m in the room opposite yours. See ya! Oh—yes…’ He seemed to become aware that the staff were nervously eyeing his new shirt.

‘It’s all right,’ she told them. ‘You can put it on my bill.’

‘Bless you,’ Sol said fervently. ‘Actually, I found a few other—’

‘Put them all on my bill,’ she said, amused and resigned. ‘Now, be off—before I end up in the Poor House.’

‘Thanks!’

Halfway to the door, he stopped. ‘Um…’

‘What now?’

‘I hadn’t realised what an expensive place this is—’ He broke off significantly.

‘You’ve got a new credit card,’ she reminded him.

‘Ye-es, but—’

‘You can’t have hit the limit already. Even you.’

His response was a helpless shrug, topped off by his best winning smile. Carlo watched him closely.

‘Here,’ Della said, reaching into her bag and producing a handful of cash. ‘I’ll call the card company and underwrite a new limit.’

‘Thanks, Mum. Bye!’

He vanished.

‘I’ll be with you in a moment,’ Della said, and went into the changing room.

After a moment she emerged in her street clothes, paid her bill, and gave her room number for the dress to be delivered.

‘And the other things, for the young man?’ the assistant asked.

‘Oh, yes—deliver them to me, too.’

A brief glance at the paperwork showed Carlo that she had spent about ten times as much on Sol as on herself.

They left the boutique and headed for the coffee bar next door. Carlo seemed thoughtful, and she guessed that he now had a lot to think about.

‘Does that dress really suit me?’ she asked. ‘Or did Sol merely say so to get me to pay for his stuff?’

‘Why would he bother?’ Carlo asked wryly. ‘He knew you were a soft touch, whatever he said.’

‘Well, of course. Don’t be fooled by the fact that he looks grown-up. He’s only twenty-one, and has only just left college. Who’s going to pay his bills if I don’t?’

‘He could get a job and start paying his own way,’ Carlo suggested.

‘He will, but he had to visit his father first.’

‘Fair enough. But does it occur to him to curb his extravagance for your sake?’

‘Why should he? When he sees me book into one of the most expensive hotels in Naples he probably reckons I can afford a few shirts.’

He shrugged. It was a fair point, but he still didn’t like it.

‘Does his father help?’ he asked after a while.

‘His father has three other children by various mothers—the first one born barely a year after we broke up.’

‘So you’ve always worked to support Sol?’

‘I’m his mother.’

‘And some woman is always going to have to be,’ he pointed out, with a touch of grouchiness.