Chapter 3 Cosimo #3
‘Always,’ she gasped, pressing a hand above her heart dramatically. ‘But until he comes to his senses and notices me, I’m stuck with being groped by Luigi Vitti.’
He had to think for a moment. ‘The barber’s son?’
She shrugged. ‘It’s better than nothing.’
For once, Cosimo was lost for words. He had kissed many girls himself in this past year, but the thought of these local boys pawing at his oldest friends …
Gina was all soft curves and lips; he could well imagine the lust she inspired.
And Rafa – she was the opposite, delicate and flighty with long legs and doe eyes … Who wouldn’t want her?
‘If you say so.’
‘I do. It’s not like we’re spoilt for choice here, you know. Not like in Rome, where you have a new girl every week!’
He glanced down, hearing her pointed tone. ‘I hope you don’t mean me specifically?’
‘Romy tells us in her letters what you’re getting up to, you know. What are you so desperate to prove, Cosi, huh?’
He shook his head and tutted. ‘You girls talk too much.’
‘Well, we all have a lot to say,’ she shrugged.
‘You definitely do.’
‘Rafa too.’
‘Yeah, right.’
‘Believe it or not, our lives do continue when your family leaves town!’
‘Now, that I find hard to believe,’ Cosimo grinned.
‘Oh, the things I could tell you,’ she teased.
He glanced at her, intrigued. ‘Such as?’
‘Infidelities. Secret seductions. Betrayals. It all happens here as well, you know – just in patched clothes. Don’t think we’re not getting up to what you’re getting up to.’
Cosimo swallowed, sincerely hoping that wasn’t true. ‘Romy was saying at breakfast she thinks Rafa’s going to marry Fon.’ It wasn’t exactly what she’d said but the suggestion had been raised, and now he couldn’t get it out of his head.
Gina paused, watching him straighten the candles in their holders. ‘Well, he is mad about her,’ she said in a considering tone. ‘He treats her like a princess; you should see how he hangs on her every word. Who knows? Maybe they will. He’s devoted, and she’s a pragmatist.’
‘Pragmatist? What kind of reason is that for getting married?’
‘Rafa lives in the real world, Cosi, unlike you. To be honest, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if she became Mrs Alfonso Giannelli within the year.’
The garden swayed suddenly, as if the ladder had been kicked; or perhaps it was the tree, a sudden gust shaking the branches. He climbed down quickly.
He never had been good with heights.
‘Hey!’ Gina called suddenly across the garden, pointing at him. ‘Look who finally woke up!’
He looked over to see Rafaella and her mother struggling to carry a tin bath between them, filled with ice.
‘Here, let me help,’ he said, running over to them. ‘Signora Parisi, please, it looks heavy,’ he insisted.
Rafaella’s mother smiled gratefully as she allowed him to take the handle on her side of the tub. ‘Grazie, Cosimo.’
She moved off, joining the women at the food tables, leaving him alone with Rafaella.
‘Hey,’ he said, glancing at her as they walked awkwardly over the grass.
‘Hey.’
A small silence bloomed, both of them uncharacteristically lost for words as they carried the bathtub in pigeon steps. The reunion yesterday at the beach caffè had held surprises for them both.
‘… She’s going to love this,’ Rafaella said after a moment.
‘Who will?’
‘Valentina. The garden looks so pretty.’
‘Oh. Yes.’
‘Everyone’s so excited to see her.’
‘They are?’
‘Of course!’
‘Are you?’ he asked her.
‘Of course!’ she said again. ‘… Are you?’
‘Of course!’ But he winced, not just at the evident strain in the conversation, but at the lie – for the truth was, he wished he’d never invited Valentina now.
She was undeniably beautiful and sexy, but what had seemed like a good idea at midnight in a nightclub now seemed a terrible proposition here in this garden, in the middle of the day.
‘Good,’ she smiled. ‘Well, I’m glad you’re happy.’
He glanced across at her again – did she really mean it? She didn’t care that Valentina Fabiani was coming here as his guest and all that that implied?
Rafaella’s smile hadn’t reached her eyes, but before he could say anything, they reached the table that would serve as the drinks station for the night, and they set the tub down carefully on the grass.
Gina had gone back to balancing the pomegranate and she came over now, hands on her hips, her hairline damp.
‘Ugh, I’m actually melting!’ she complained, wiping her brow with the back of her hand.
‘Luckily, we have a remedy for that,’ he said, grateful for the distraction she provided as he swung an arm in the direction of the round pool further down the lawn. ‘… Anyone for a swim?’
The water slipped over his skin, cool and clear, as they all swam like otters below the surface, together but apart.
As children they would have retrieved any items they could get to sink to the bottom, or had races, or seen who could hold their breath the longest …
Once upon a time he would have grabbed the girls and thrown them in or dunked them, but the innocence of childhood had faded and he found he didn’t dare put his hands on either one of his old friends now.
What could be hidden beneath clothing was wholly revealed poolside and it was impossible not to notice their new curves in their swimwear.
Gina’s bikini was in an existential crisis, desperately trying to cling on to her; Rafaella was mermaid-like as she gently fluttered her long limbs, her hair streaming out behind her, so serene and beautiful that he knew he would gladly follow her to be dashed upon the rocks.
The new tension between them all cut both ways.
He had seen the way their eyes flickered too over his hard-won muscles and smattering of chest hair as he had pulled off his shirt and carelessly – but expertly – dived in.
Gina was swimming around with a small, enigmatic smile on her face, as if she knew something he didn’t.
She probably did, but he knew better than to ask her what it was; she’d always had a way of throwing him off balance with her waspish wit, and he already felt wrong-footed as they adjusted to this new adult dynamic between them all.
‘Better?’ he asked, as Gina surfaced with a gasp.
‘So much,’ she sighed, smoothing her hair back from her face. ‘I felt like a lobster being boiled alive. Honestly, Cosi – only your family could get everyone to work during riposo!’
‘It’s called enlightened self-interest,’ he grinned, treading water. ‘They know they’ll be rewarded with the fruits of their own labour tonight, when they eat and drink us out of house and home. Isn’t that right, Rafa?’
Rafaella appeared not to hear. She was lying on her back, a floating starfish, and he and Gina swapped looks, each already knowing what the other was thinking.
It had always been one of their favourite games when they were kids …
Without hesitation, he duck-dived, swimming under Rafaella and blowing out bubbles that rose up and tickled her back.
She startled, wriggling at the unexpected movement below her just as he grabbed her right ankle, pulling her under water.
She folded and sank, everything going into slow motion down there as she twisted and faced him through the blue, his hands upon her waist in immediate reassurance as she got her bearings.
Time seemed to stand still. Above their heads, it was the world – perfectly still and silent – that looked like the mirror reflection, and down here was what was real.
They couldn’t speak, clearly; there was no more hiding behind polite conversation or mannered smiles.
They could only communicate with their eyes, but for a few short seconds it was as if a veil had been dropped and he was transported back to that night, last summer …
She kicked up to the surface, emerging with a small half-cry, half-laugh. ‘Bastards!’
‘Got you!’ Gina laughed, splashing her for good measure.
Cosimo threw his head back, an arc of water flying through the air as his hair settled in perfect position off his face. He rubbed his face in his hands. ‘Sorry, Rafa. It was too good to resist,’ he said unapologetically, swimming around her like a shark.
‘I’ll get you back for that!’
‘Yeah, yeah,’ he replied, holding her eye contact and hoping she would. He wanted to see that moment of truth again, to feel it. Had he imagined it?
She splashed at him, getting him straight in the face, and it was all the ammunition he needed to dive under again and grab her by the leg.
They were below water once more, his hands on her skin as he pulled her towards him – but she was slippery in his grip, a good swimmer too, and she got away, surfacing with another laugh as she raced for the steps.
She was fast – always had been – but he was taller and right behind her, the water parting as his arms ploughed through, gaining on her.
She got to the steps just as his hands closed round her waist and he threw her back into the middle of the pool.
He followed straight after her, diving messily now.
Where she went, he went … Limbs and slipstreams. Bubbles and darting glances.
Somewhere in the chaos, it had become a chase, and they felt themselves caught on the tailfeathers of another game, the echoes lingering from the night last summer when pursuit had led to capture …
‘Rafa?’
Cosimo peered into the narrow fissure in the trunk of the mighty monumentale tree. It had always been one of the best hiding spots in this part of the plantation, and they had often fought for it when playing hide-and-seek. She’d won tonight.
‘Let me in,’ he whispered. Somewhere in the shadows, Romola was hiding too.
‘No!’ she laughed, giddy on the beers he’d smuggled out. ‘It’s mine! I got here first! Go find your own spot.’
‘Shh!’ He pressed a finger to her lips, shushing her as he waited for another sound to come to his ear.