Epilogue
Five years later…
‘MARELLA KEEPS ON winning. It’s not fair.’
Gazing down at his son’s tear-streaked face, Ettore felt his heart contract, remembering all the times he and Edo had raced one another. He still thought about his brother most days but no longer with the guilt he had carried for so long.
Dealing with the memories of his mother was still a work in progress but, as with Edo, he found that they were more varied and less damning than he had once imagined. And his past, the bad and, increasingly, the good, acted as a guide rail for his own parenting.
Because he was not just a son and a brother now, but a father too.
He made his voice serious, giving Giovanni’s question the consideration it deserved. ‘Your sister is faster than you, but she has longer legs because she is four and you’re two.’
‘I’m nearly three,’ his son said quickly. He loved his sister, but it didn’t stop him railing against the unfairness of her being two years older than him. And a faster swimmer.
Ettore smiled. ‘Yes, you are. And one day your legs will be as long as Marella’s because her legs aren’t going to keep growing, are they?’
Giovanni thought for a moment and then shook his head. ‘But I wish I was bigger now.’
Ettore leaned forward on the sunlounger and took his son’s hands. ‘I know, but you make bigger splashes than Marella when you kick.’
‘Only a little bit.’ Marella was standing next to her brother now, her blonde hair a mass of damp, unruly curls. ‘But you are two years younger than me so even a little bit is a lot,’ she added begrudgingly.
‘That’s true.’ Ettore took his daughter’s hand and pulled her in for a shoulder bump and she gave him a heart-melting smile that she had inherited straight from her mother along with her blonde hair and her love of nature.
‘When’s Mamma going to be here?’
‘Any minute. She’s just having a nap. Why don’t you practise being floating stars while you wait for her to come down?’
‘And then can we have ice cream?’ Giovanni said, his light brown eyes widening hopefully, his tears forgotten.
He nodded. ‘You can.’
‘Come on, Gio.’ Marella took her brother’s hand and then she turned and kissed Ettore on the cheek. ‘Ti voglio bene, Papà.’
‘And I love you both too. And no running.’
Heart swelling with love and pride, he watched them walk back to the pool, their little legs stiff with the effort of not running, Marella’s hand clasped tightly round her younger brother’s.
Officially, it was a working day, but he had already prepared for tomorrow’s meeting with the Ministry of Agricultural, Food and Forestry Policies. Today he could afford simply to enjoy life with his family.
A lot had changed in the five years since he and Dulcie had got back together. They had renewed their marriage vows and had two children. And three of their wines had been awarded Tre Bicchieri by the prestigious Gambero Rosso guide.
But the greatest changes had happened with his family. He had called Sofia after he and Dulcie had returned from Cambridge. They had talked about the past, but mostly about the present and, to his surprise, Fia had asked to move back into the castle. More surprisingly she was a doting aunt.
As for his cousins. They were still unpredictable and wayward but the changes he’d made to his own life had rippled through the entire extended family. His door was always open, but he had made it clear that there would be no more handouts. No freeloading. Everyone had to earn a living.
And in another surprising development, Checco had stepped up and proved himself a capable team player.
Ettore glanced over to where Edoardo was dozing in the sunlight.
But it was the change in his relationship with his father that mattered the most. Because against all the odds, Edoardo was not just alive, he was thriving.
Incredibly he was following some of his doctor’s orders and every day he made it clear that Ettore was the son he didn’t just tolerate but loved.
And he loved his grandchildren too. Equally.
Ettore felt his spine stiffen. His skin was prickling and even without hearing the children’s shrieks of excitement he knew his wife had just walked onto the terrace by the pool. Inside, outside, in a crowded room or in the darkness, it made no difference, he always knew where she was.
Knew too, and this gave him as great a pleasure as his children, that she was where she wanted to be. With him, here at Castiglione Fiana.
Now, he turned his head and allowed himself a moment of pure, indulgent pleasure to watch Dulcie walk towards him while everything else stilled and softened into silence.
Dulcie.
His beautiful wife.
His soulmate.
The sweetness in his life.
His gaze moved in silent appreciation over her bikini-clad body, and he felt a rush of heat tighten his muscles, some very specific muscles.
It was their seventh wedding anniversary today and they had celebrated in the dawn light, reaching for each other wordlessly, their need as raw as it was when they first met in Paris.
They had exchanged gifts. From Dulcie, a letter written by his namesake and great-grandfather, which she’d had framed. His eyes fixed on his wife. Dulcie was wearing his gift. A sapphire and diamond necklace to match the bracelet his father had given her all those years ago.
She still looked like that woman who’d rolled in with the storm in Paris trailing thunderbolts and hail in her wake. Her blonde hair was longer now and lighter from the Puglian sun and there was a smattering of freckles on her shoulders that he liked to join up with his tongue.
‘Ciao.’ She leaned in and kissed him softly on the mouth. ‘You let me go back to sleep.’
She turned and waved to the children in the pool.
‘You were up a lot in the night. I thought you needed to catch up.’ His hand moved to touch the curve of her stomach, fingers caressing the smooth, taut skin as if he were testing it for ripeness. ‘This one’s got quite the kick. I don’t remember Marella or Gio being quite so rowdy.’
She shook her head. ‘I know. Good job you ordered those hail nets. We might need them to stop this little force of nature from causing havoc once he or she is born.’
He leaned in to kiss her stomach. ‘On the advice of my very clever wife.’
Dulcie felt her heart flip over as he pulled her onto his lap, his mouth seeking hers, and she kissed him back greedily. It didn’t matter that, only an hour ago, she had tasted him and teased him and made him groan out her name as her thighs clenched around his hard, proud body.
‘My very sexy, clever wife,’ he murmured against her throat.
‘You have a one-track mind.’
‘Not true.’ His hand moved over the curve of her hip. ‘I have a whole bunch of delightfully scenic routes to take me where I want to go.’
She laughed and then he was laughing too, because more than anything he loved to see her happy and she was profusely, blissfully, rampantly happy, living here with Ettore, building a world of their own.
A world that was welcoming and inclusive.
It wasn’t just Fia who was living with them now.
A year after he finally left rehab, Oscar moved to Italy.
He didn’t live in the castle. His choice.
He had wanted, needed, his independence.
But he also needed his family close by so Ettore had arranged for a cottage on the estate to be renovated.
And Oscar was happy too. During his stay at the clinic, he had discovered a talent for pottery and now created beautiful pistachio-green schizzato bowls and jugs and platters in his studio.
But it was his relationship with Ettore that gave her the most happiness.
True to his word, Ettore was a strong and stable presence in her brother’s life and the two men were close friends now.
Of course, there were bumps in the road, diversions and potholes, because life was complicated. But they knew how to deal with them now. And they wanted to deal with them. Because they loved each other for better, for worse.
‘So you’re still travelling?’ she teased.
He shook his head. ‘No, you’re stuck with me, dolcezza.’
‘Says the man trapped under me.’ She leaned in and kissed him fiercely. ‘But just so we’re clear, I’m not stuck. I chose you.’
‘So no itch, then? I mean, that’s what happens after seven years, isn’t it?’
‘To other people. Not to us. We can’t be separated. We’re vite maritata.’
‘Always.’
His gold eyes gleamed in the sunlight and her throat thickened with love and happiness as Ettore pulled her closer and kissed her with the same fierce tenderness as she had kissed him.