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

‘You say that every year, too,’ he said fondly, beginning to undo her dress at the back.

‘Bringing someone like Della Hadley to a family party changes everything.’

‘Someone like? You’ve met her?’

‘No, but I have learned how to use the internet. She’s a television producer with a big reputation.’

‘But surely Carlo told us that? He said she was planning a series and wanted him to be part of it, so he was taking her around to find inspiration.’

‘He didn’t need to be with her night and day, for over a week. Does that sound like an audition?’ Hope demanded with a touch of irony. ‘You think he’s been sleeping with her to get the job?’

‘Perhaps he hasn’t been sleeping with her?’ Toni suggested mildly, but backed down under his wife’s withering look.

‘This is Carlo we’re talking about,’ she reminded him.

‘True—I forgot. But surely she can’t be very young? Did you find out her age on the net?’

‘Not exactly, but it mentioned she began to make her name a full ten years ago, so she must be mid to late thirties. Toni, I just know what this woman is like. To have made such a success in a man’s world she must be a domineering, pushy careerist, who has contrived to beguile Carlo out of his senses.’

‘But all our daughters-in-law are career women,’ he protested. ‘Evie still does her translating, Olympia practically runs one of Primo’s factories here in Naples, and Minnie is a lawyer. Luke even moved to Rome to be near her rather than asking her to come here.’

‘Yes, but—’ Hope struggled to put into words her instinctive misgivings about this strange woman. ‘I don’t know—it’s just that something tells me that she will bring bad times into this house.’

‘Now you are being foolish,’ he said fondly.

‘I wish I could believe that you are right.’

‘Come to bed.’

Myra, Sol’s girlfriend, whom Della met next morning, proved to be much as expected: pretty, empty-headed, slightly grasping, but mainly good-natured. She was a native Neapolitan, and greeted the announcement that she was to go to the Villa Rinucci with a wide-eyed delight that said everything about the reputation of the Rinucci family.

As Carlo’s car only seated two, a vehicle was sent down from the villa to collect Sol and Myra, which was a relief even to Della. It gave her a chance to talk to Carlo on the drive.

She was wearing the black cocktail dress, and knew she looked her best. Carlo was smarter than she had ever seen him, in a dinner jacket and black bow tie, his shaggy locks actually reduced to some sort of order. He explained this aberration by saying that otherwise his mother would make him sorry he’d been born.

‘Don’t tell me you’re scared of her?’ Della laughed.

‘Terrified,’ he said cheerfully. ‘We all are. We were raised to be under a woman’s thumb, never to answer her back, always to let her have the last word—that sort of thing. I come “ready-made hen-pecked”. You’ll find that very useful.’

Since this was a clear reference to a future marriage, she diplomatically made no direct reply.

‘Tell me about your family,’ she said.

‘You wouldn’t be changing the subject, by any chance?’ he asked lightly.

‘I might be. Maybe a man who’s ready-made hen-pecked doesn’t appeal to me.’

‘You’d prefer to do your own hen-pecking?’

‘Any woman would. That way she can ensure that the product is customised to her personal requirements.’

‘True. I hadn’t thought of that. I suppose reducing him to a state of total subjection is half the fun.’

‘Absolutely.’

‘In that case, my darling, you may find me a bit of a disappointment. I’ve been your devoted slave from the start, and I don’t think I could manage anything else.’

‘But suppose one night you come home disgracefully late and I’m waiting with a rolling pin? Surely you’re going to defend yourself?’

‘The situation would never arise. If I was out late you’d be with me, and we’d be disgraceful together.’

‘You mean you’re not going to fight me?’ she demanded in mock horror.

‘I don’t think I’d know how,’ he replied meekly. ‘I was raised not to stand up to the boss lady.’

‘So you won’t be my lord and master?’

‘Mio dio, no!’

‘Come, come! Be a man.’

‘If that’s what “being a man” means, I’ll settle for being a mouse—as long as I’m your mouse.’

There was simply no way of answering this lunatic, she thought, her lips twitching. He could make her laugh whenever he pleased, reducing her defences to nothing.

But then he added quietly, ‘I’ve never had much use for the kind of man who feels he has to bully a woman before he can feel manly.’

His answer brought her right back into the danger area from which she’d tried to escape with humour, reminding her that it was his combination of quiet strength and gentleness that she found truly irresistible. The blazing sexual attraction that united them was only a cover. If it should die, the love would live on.

Glancing at his profile as he drove, she saw things she had missed before. The angle emphasised the firmness of his jaw, so intriguingly at odds with the meek character he’d teasingly assumed. It was at odds, too, with his easygoing nature, which she now realised was deceptive. They had never quarrelled beyond small spats that lasted five minutes, and she had almost come to think that he could never quarrel, never be really angry. The contours of his face told a different story, of a man with the self-control and generosity to keep his temper in check. But the temper was there.

The car slowed to let somebody cross ahead of them, and he took advantage of the moment to glance at her. What he saw brought a smile to his face, and she realised with a qualm that it was the smile of a supremely happy lover, full of confidence, with no doubts of his coming victory.

If she could have stopped the car and disillusioned him before his blissful dream grew stronger, she would have done so. But that was impossible, so she merely said, ‘Tell me about the people I’m going to meet tonight.’

She was an only child, as both her parents had been. So she had no experience of a large family, and was curious about Carlo’s. He’d previously told her about them, making them sound like a big, booming clan who were fun to be with. Now he observed that they would have dominated every part of his life if he’d allowed it.

‘That’s why I have my own apartment,’ he said. ‘So has Ruggiero, and so did Primo and Luke before they married. I adore the lot of them, but I need a place where I can behave as badly as I like.’

He spoke of the whole family, but one look at Carlo’s mother told Della whose scrutiny he was really avoiding.

As they turned into the courtyard people streamed out of the villa to stand on the terrace, watching the car. Studying them quickly, Della saw a man and woman in their sixties, five younger men and two young women. They were all smiling broadly, and the smiles changed to roars of approval as Carlo waved at them.

‘So you came back,’ yelled one of the men. ‘We thought you’d vanished for ever.’

‘You mean we hoped he’d vanished for ever.’

More laughter, back-slapping. The man who’d said this bore a definite resemblance to Carlo, and Della guessed that this was his twin, Ruggiero.