Chapter 9 Cosimo
Cosimo
‘I thought I’d find you here.’
Cosimo opened one eye to find his brother standing by the pool, holding glasses and a pitcher of margarita. He allowed a half-smile to lift the corner of his mouth as he circled his hands in the water and paddled over on the inflatable.
‘Thanks,’ he said, as Fede poured him a drink and handed it over. ‘Where’ve you been all afternoon?’ He pushed himself off the side again, drifting back into the centre.
‘Marina Serra. I fancied a swim.’ Fede stretched out in the garden chair, the soles of his feet ten shades lighter than his deeply tanned legs.
‘Again? The sea here isn’t good enough for you?’ Cosimo drawled.
‘It’s fine – but I fancied a drive and getting out for a bit. I’ve been hitting the books all day. A change of scenery is good for the soul.’
‘This is the change of scenery.’
‘Mm.’
They both lay there for several minutes, eyes closed as the garden twitched and buzzed all around them: birds alighting on branches with rapid wingbeats, a lemon falling from one of the trees and landing on the gravel drive with a soft thud, bees buzzing soporifically among the bougainvillea and jasmine.
The sun blistered overhead, baking the ground so that a heat haze shimmered.
Cosimo was sure he kept catching traces of smoke from somewhere.
‘Where’s Romy?’ Fede murmured.
‘In her room.’
‘Still sick?’
Cosimo didn’t bother to reply. He hated being caught up in his sister’s lies as much as her drama. He lifted his head to take another sip of his drink before letting it loll back again. ‘I’m so bored.’
‘I know. I just saw Rafa and Fon—’
Cosimo’s head jerked up again: what? ‘At Marina Serra?’
‘No. On the street here. I invited them back for drinks and a swim but they said they both had jobs to do … I sort of got the impression they were lying, though.’ Fede’s voice was growing heavy, slow. He was beginning to relax.
Cosimo watched his brother, feeling his heart pound, as if he was swimming laps under water. ‘Oh yeah? Why would they do that?’
‘Not sure …’ Fede drifted into silence, and Cosimo stared up at the sky.
A distant plane, just a white speck from here, was charting a course west and he tried to imagine all the people strapped in their seats inside, living their different lives and completely unaware of him, lazing in a circular pool, looking up at them.
‘They seemed to enjoy the party, though.’
Cosimo’s eyebrows went up. ‘Which one of them told you that?’ It was all he could do to keep the scorn from his voice.
‘They both did.’
Cosimo digested the revelation. So they were together again, then?
Rafaella had forgiven Fon but not Romola?
… He felt as if he’d been kicked in the stomach when he remembered again how she’d looked at him at the caffè – as if he was a complete stranger.
He was innocent of any wrongdoing against her, yet still he had been lumbered with his sister’s crimes.
Guilty by association. Or bloodline. Whereas Fon …
He watched as a dragonfly shot into his line of sight, hovering then darting in short, rapid bursts before landing on the water’s surface. He flicked his fingers, sending out ripples and watching as it took off again a few moments later. ‘… They’re together now, did you know?’
Fede lifted his head, roused from his torpor. ‘A couple, you mean?’
‘Yeah.’ Cosimo blinked back at him, seeing his brother’s evident surprise. ‘You don’t see it?’
A small silence bloomed, Fede weighing the question as if it were a grave legal matter. ‘No,’ he said finally, dropping his head down again. ‘I really don’t.’
‘Mmm,’ Cosimo sighed, feeling as if there was a weight on his chest. ‘Me neither.’
Over the high walls came the sound of shears snipping in a neighbouring garden, a tinny sharpness cutting at the air itself.
‘He seems very different to Dante,’ Fede said contemplatively.
Cosimo frowned. ‘That doesn’t make him nice.’
Fede chuckled.
‘What?’
‘You always did have it in for him.’
‘No I didn’t!’
‘Sure you did. I saw you cut him dead myself, several times, when he’d try to talk to you and the girls. I always thought you were a bit jealous of him, actually.’
‘Me?’ Cosimo recoiled so sharply he almost lost his balance and tipped into the water. ‘What would I be jealous of him for?’
Fede shrugged. ‘Well, he is good-looking.’
‘If you like wimps!’
Fede laughed again, as if a point had been proved. ‘And he’s always been good friends with the girls. I don’t know, I guess I thought you felt threatened by him because he’s with them year round and you’re not.’
‘You’re talking out of your ass,’ Cosimo snapped. ‘I don’t give him a second thought. They’ve always liked me better than him.’
‘Well, in the past, perhaps,’ Fede shrugged. ‘But not now, clearly.’
Cosimo, for once, didn’t argue back. Was his brother right?
Had he been thrown over for Fon Giannelli more completely than he’d wanted to acknowledge?
Arrogantly, he had assumed that if it ever did come to some sort of contest, he would win hands down.
He was Cosimo Franchetti! A duke’s son and eligible catch, according to the gossip sections of the ladies’ magazines.
Valentina Fabiani herself had followed him down here from Rome!
How puerile it all seemed now. He had thought turning up with her on his arm would show Rafaella their kiss had been a mistake, that he didn’t care; but he’d been pushing on an open door. She cared less. She liked Fon. He’d lost her long before now.
‘Think what you like, but he’s not the Mr Nice Guy you suppose he is,’ he muttered darkly, throwing back his head to drain his glass.
‘What do you mean by that?’ Fede asked suspiciously.
But Cosimo was already slipping into the water, his empty glass left behind on the inflatable mattress as he sank below the surface with lungs full of air and a head full of regret.