Dancing had started. Myra twirled by with Ruggiero, which seemed not to trouble Sol at all. He was smooching with another female.
‘They all act like that at twenty-one,’ Della said defensively.
‘Twenty-one? I’d have thought him older.’
‘Everyone would,’ Carlo said, just behind them. ‘It’s because he’s built like a tank. I was exactly the same, Mamma, and you used to say I’d come to a bad end.’
As he spoke his eyes rested on Della, as if proclaiming to the world that this was the ‘end’ to which he had come, and he had no complaints.
‘Come and dance with me,’ he said, drawing her to her feet.
‘It will soon be the moment,’ Hope said, patting his arm. ‘Don’t forget.’
‘The moment for what?’ Della asked, as they danced slowly away.
‘The exact moment we were born. Of course she doesn’t know the exact moment for Luke and Primo, plus Ruggiero and I have an hour between us, so she goes for the midway point. In ten minutes’ time she’ll announce that it’s exactly thirty-one years since we arrived in the world.’
He gave a sheepish grin.
‘It embarrasses the hell out of us, but it makes her happy.’
Sure enough, ten minutes later Hope called for silence, and, standing before a huge birthday cake, made her speech. The twins exchanged glances, each ready to sink, but they said and did everything she wanted, and the rest of the crowd cheered.
‘Now I’m thirty-one, and you’re only six years older than me,’ Carlo told Della when they were together again.
Smiling, she shook her head.
‘But I have a birthday next month, and then it’ll be seven again. Thirty-eight is only two years from forty, and-’
He silenced her with a finger over her lips. This time his eyes were dark, and he wasn’t joking.
‘I’m serious about this,’ he said. ‘You know we have to be together. Nothing else is possible for us.’
‘When you talk like that you almost convince me.’ She sighed longingly.
‘Good, then let’s tell everyone now.’
‘No!’ She clung to him firmly. ‘I said almost. It’s not as easy as you think.’
‘It is,’ he insisted. ‘It’s as easy as you want it to be.’
He was holding her close in a waltz. Now he drew her closer still, and laid his mouth over hers. It was the gentlest possible kiss and it surprised her so that she instinctively leaned into it while her body moved to the music.
‘I love you,’ he whispered.
‘I love you,’ she murmured back.
‘Let me tell them now.’
Before she could answer they were engulfed by a wave of applause. As the music stopped, and he half released her, Della looked around and saw that the guests had made a circle all around them, smiling and clapping heartily.
‘I think you’ve already told them,’ she said reproachfully.
‘Not in words. It’s what they see that matters. Don’t be angry with me.’
‘I’m not, but-stop smiling at me like that. It isn’t fair. You’re not to say anything to anyone, you hear?’
‘Is that an order?’
‘Yes, it is. You said you were going to be my hen-pecked mouse, remember? So be one.’
‘Ah, but that’s only after the wedding,’ he parried quickly. ‘Until then I’m allowed an opinion of my own.’
‘No, you are not,’ she said firmly. ‘The Boss Lady says so.’
His lips twitched, and his eyes were full of fun, looking deep into hers in the way he knew melted her.
How unscrupulous could a man be?
‘So you be good,’ she said, in a voice that was shaking with laughter and passion. ‘Or I’ll get my rolling pin out.’
For answer, he seized her hands in his, raising them to his lips, kissing the backs, the palms, the fingers.
And everyone saw him do it.
CHAPTER SEVEN
SOL appeared in Della’s room the next morning, looking much the worse for wear.
‘Your mother’s in the shower,’ Carlo said, letting him in. ‘How did the rest of your evening go?’
‘Nuts to it. Myra just vanished. I didn’t even see her to say goodbye.’
Carlo kept a straight face. It was clear now that Myra had gone to the party hoping to snare a Rinucci, and had presumably struck gold. He made a mental note to call his brothers and ask a few carefully worded questions.
‘But the car brought you back here safely?’ he said, apparently sympathetic.
‘When I realised that you two had already left without me-’
‘We were being tactful,’ Carlo assured him. ‘After all, things might have worked out with Myra-or someone else-and then you wouldn’t have wanted us around. Coffee?’
Sol slid thankfully into a chair while Carlo filled a cup, then called Room Service and ordered another breakfast.
‘So, what’s the programme for today?’ Sol said, yawning. ‘I seem to be at a loose end now.’
‘My programme is to spend the day with your mother,’ Carlo said, speaking in an easy manner that didn’t quite hide his determination. ‘Just the two of us.’
Sol seemed to consider for a moment.
‘That was quite a show you and Mum put up last night,’ he mused.
‘Be very careful what you say,’ Carlo told him quietly.
‘Yes, but look-just how seriously can you-? Aw, c’mon, people think we’re almost the same age. How am I going to tell the world, “This is my dad”?’
‘You leave me to worry about that. If you give your mother any trouble, you’ll have me to deal with.’
‘What do you mean, trouble? I have a terrific relationship with her.’
‘Yes, you take, and she gives-and gives, and gives. I don’t entirely blame you for that. I was the same at your age, selfish and greedy, but I was luckier than you. I had a twin who was as jealous of me as I was of him, plus several older brothers ready to thump the nonsense out of both of us. There was also my father, to look out for my mother. Della’s had nobody-until now.’
But Sol was holding an ace, and he played it.
‘If you give me any trouble, you’ll have Mum to deal with,’ he said.
He spoke with a touch of defiance, but it was only a small touch because he’d seen something in Carlo’s eyes that most people never saw, and it made him careful.
‘You could be right,’ Carlo said thoughtfully.
‘So we understand each other?’
Carlo gave him a brilliant grin that would have chilled the blood of anyone more perceptive than Sol.
‘I understand you perfectly,’ he said. ‘And in time you’ll understand me.’
A knock at the door announced the arrival of the extra breakfast, and by the time Della emerged from the shower Sol was concentrating on food.
‘Don’t question him,’ Carlo said genially. ‘He had a bad night.’
Della hugged her son. ‘Poor darling. What are you going to do now?’
‘We’re going to spend the day together,’ Carlo said. ‘You and I need to go back to Pompeii, to start making a plan of action, and Sol’s dying to come with us and hear all about it.’
The beaming smile Della turned on him effectively shut off Sol’s protests.
‘Sol, that’s wonderful. You’re really interested?’
‘Of course,’ he said bravely. ‘I can’t wait to see-everything.’
