The Rinuccis: Carlo, Ruggiero & Francesco. Lucy Gordon

love listening when you say things like that.’

      ‘But you think they’re just fancy words? Is that it?’

      It was partly true, but she didn’t want to admit as much just yet.

      ‘What will it take to convince you?’ Carlo asked, moving closer in a way that suggested he was preparing for battle. ‘I don’t know. I expect you’ll think of something. You know me so well.’

      ‘Not as well as I’m going to. Why don’t we—?’

      A muffled crash from the corridor outside made him tense and look up, muttering a soft curse as they heard laughter that sounded familiar.

      ‘He did say he was in the room facing yours, didn’t he?’

      Carlo sighed.

      ‘Yes, but I hadn’t expected him back so soon.’

      A female giggle reached them.

      ‘There’s the explanation,’ Carlo said. ‘He didn’t waste any time, did he?’

      ‘Don’t tell me you weren’t the same at twenty-one.’

      ‘Ah, well—never mind that. Hey, where are you going?’ For Della was getting up and pulling on her robe.

      ‘He might want to talk to me,’ she explained.

      ‘You mean he’ll want to find out if I’m still here.’ Carlo groaned, climbing reluctantly out of bed and wishing Sol to perdition.

      As Carlo had expected, Sol strolled in casually, ready to make himself at home, but his eyes were alert, taking in the sight of his mother in a dressing gown, and Carlo in the day clothes he had hastily resumed.

      Della felt blushingly self conscious. She and Sol had never discussed her male friends, but there had been no need. He had never before discovered her in such a compromising position.

      ‘Just checking that you’re all right,’ he told Della.

      ‘I’m fine, darling,’ she assured him. ‘But haven’t you left your friend on her own?’

      ‘Yes, I must go back to her now I’ve said goodnight to you.’

      Now you’ve found out what you wanted to know, Carlo thought.

      Aloud, he said, ‘She’s welcome to join us at the party tomorrow night.’

      ‘Yes, that would be nice,’ Sol said easily, rather as though he were conferring a favour.

      ‘Did you have a good evening?’ Della asked.

      ‘Fine, thanks. Although she’s an expensive little filly. So many shops stay open late in this town, and she seems to think that I’m made of money.’

      ‘I wonder how she got that idea?’ Carlo observed, to nobody in particular.

      ‘But you managed?’ Della said quickly.

      ‘Yes—except that we came back in a cab, and I don’t have quite enough to pay the fare…’

      ‘All right,’ she said, taking some money from her bag. ‘Go and give him this.’

      From the corridor outside came a girl’s voice, calling, ‘Solly—’

      ‘Coming, sweetheart,’ he called back. Then something seemed to strike him, and he tried to return the money to Della. ‘Mum, I can’t leave her alone. Would you mind—?’

      ‘Yes, she would,’ Carlo said crossly. ‘Your mother’s not going to get dressed just to save you a journey downstairs. Do it yourself.’

      ‘Hey, who are you to—?’

      ‘Don’t waste my time arguing,’ Carlo said, seizing his shoulders and turning Sol to face the door. ‘Go down there and pay the fare. Or else—’

      ‘Carlo—’ Della was plucking at his arm. ‘There’s no need—’

      ‘I think there’s every need. Go downstairs, Sol. Now!’

      ‘Look here—’

       ‘Clear off!’

      Thrusting him out into the corridor, Carlo locked the door behind him and stood with his back to it, daring Della to object.

      ‘You’re not going to defend his behaviour, are you?’ he asked.

      ‘No, but—’

      ‘Expecting you to go down there to run his errands? I don’t think so. What’s so funny?’

      Della controlled her laughter long enough to say, ‘But I was only going to call Reception, ask them to pay and put it on my bill. I had no intention of going downstairs.’

      Carlo’s face showed his chagrin.

      ‘I suppose I made a clown of myself?’ he groaned.

      ‘No, of course not. I think it’s wonderful of you to defend me. Sometimes Sol does go a bit too far.’

      ‘Only sometimes?’

      ‘All right, I’ve spoilt him. But for a long time it was just the two of us. Still, I guess I’ve got to learn to let go. He’ll make a success of his life and he won’t need me any more.’

      Carlo could have told her that she was worrying about nothing, since Sol had no intension of releasing her from his demands. But he didn’t want to discuss it now. It was better to take her into his arms and forget the world.

      Toni Rinucci was waiting for his wife in the doorway of their room.

      ‘I hope you’re ready to come to bed now,’ he said, as she reached the top of the stairs. ‘You’ve been working all day, and tomorrow you’ll be working again, if I know you.’

      ‘Of course. Our sons have a birthday, and naturally I wish to celebrate. This will be a special birthday.’

      ‘You say that every year.’

      ‘But this year is different.’

      ‘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