Chapter 12 Rosie – Day 3
Rosie is half asleep when she leaves the bedroom.
Her head is tender after the wine last night.
She’s annoyed at herself for accepting the booze.
She needs to keep a clear mind. This isn’t the time or place for her to lose her inhibitions.
She rubs the sleep from her eyes and nearly trips over what’s waiting on the other side of the door.
A stack of photo albums rests by her feet, topped with a handwritten note on a piece of creamy paper torn from a notepad.
Rosie, you mentioned you were interested in these the other night. There’s loads more in the library downstairs. Help yourself. It’s nice to have someone take an interest. They usually gather dust. Marianne x
The doorbell chimes and the sound of voices erupts from somewhere in the house. She hurriedly puts the albums down. She’ll go over them properly later once she’s got caffeine in her system.
She goes downstairs, past the locked door to the basement.
There must be a window open down there as cold air escapes through the gap at her bare feet, blowing onto her toes.
She shivers and hurries to the kitchen. The house is silent once more.
She expects to see Julietta but there’s no one here.
Where is everyone else? What is she supposed to do?
Suddenly a voice comes from behind her. Standing next to the window, looking out over the drive, is the gardener, Paulo.
‘Ciao,’ he says gruffly, tearing his eyes from the view, unaware of the fright he gave her.
He looks to be in his mid-fifties, wearing a scruffy, bottle-green shirt and grubby cargo trousers. Wiry grey hairs stick up at different angles on his head and there are bags under his wrinkled eyes.
‘C-Ciao . . .’ she stutters awkwardly.
‘Coffee?’ Paulo offers, nodding to the sleek barista-style coffee machine.
‘Yes, please.’
The smell of ground coffee soon fills the warm air as Paulo moves around the kitchen and prepares her drink.
He looms over her. His rough, tanned hands are massive.
She remembered Theo saying he had been working here for years.
He clearly knows his way around the place.
A large set of keys jingle as he clomps to the fridge to get the milk.
‘Did you have a nice night?’ he asks in stilted English, over the sound of the frother. ‘I saw you going to the bar.’
She nods. Was he there too? She didn’t see him, but then again, only one thing plays on repeat in her mind from last night. Luke and Carla in the alleyway. She pictures his hand sliding across her waist, tugging her closer.
What happened after Rosie ran away? Did the kiss lead to something else or was it a drunken moment of madness?
‘The Three Sisters. It used to be a good place. It’s tired now. Old. Like me.’ He winks. Despite his intimidating height and stature, there is a kindness about him.
‘Theo told me you’ve worked here for a long time. I wonder if—’ she starts to ask but is interrupted as the door opens.
Marianne sweeps in, looking ready and made up for the day, holding a rolled-up piece of paper in her hand. ‘Ah, Rosie. Sleep well?’
‘Erm, yes, lovely, thanks,’ she lies. She had tossed and turned, wondering whether to tell Theo about Luke and Carla’s brief embrace all night.
He was unusually quiet on the walk home from the bar.
His early-morning runs must be catching up with him.
Even if he had been in the mood to talk, Rosie was still in too much shock to mention his brother’s infidelity.
Paulo hands Rosie a cappuccino, breaking her thoughts. The cream-coloured cup looks miniature in his large, soil-stained hands. ‘Prego.’
She brings the cup to her lips and carefully blows on the steam, the smell of roasted coffee unfurling up her nose.
‘Theo still in bed?’ Marianne asks.
‘No, he’s in the shower. Thanks for the photo albums, by the way.’
‘You’re welcome, dear. Like I said, it’s lovely to have a guest take so much interest.’ Marianne smiles.
A clock chimes. ‘I’m glad to see Paulo has prepared you a drink.
The others are in the dining room finishing breakfast, if you want to go and join them.
Julietta and Carla are around somewhere if you’d like to request anything particular to eat. If you’ll excuse us? Paulo?’
The older man bobs his head to say goodbye before trailing after Marianne, ducking under the door frame as he leaves.
***
Luke and the children are in the dining room.
The patio doors are flung open, bathing the wood-panelled room in golden sunlight.
The antique oak table is covered in pastries, homemade preserves, a gleaming fruit platter, and a tall, silver cafetière.
By the looks of the crumbs and half-finished bowls of cereal, they’ve been here for some time.
Raffi is in a wicker bassinet, entranced under a mobile playing a soothing nursery rhyme.
‘Morning,’ Luke croaks. He’s wearing an open, flowery robe that reveals his bare chest and designer boxer shorts.
‘Hi,’ she replies, struggling to keep eye contact, grateful that the children are there as a distraction. She can’t shake the kiss in the alleyway from her mind. ‘Morning, Alba, how are you doing today?’
The little girl smiles shyly at her, burrowing her head into Luke’s armpit. He downs his drink in one gulp. As he does his robe opens further. Rosie looks away but not before she catches his lips curling into a wry smile.
Is he doing this on purpose?
‘How’s your head?’ she asks, filling the awkward silence while tentatively reaching for a croissant from under a polished glass dome.
‘Fine.’ He lifts up the cafetière. ‘Well, I will be after this. Would you like some?’
‘No thank you. Paulo sorted me out.’
He rolls his bloodshot eyes. ‘Course he did. He’s probably acting like he owns the place. He’s worked here for donkey’s years. I bet there’s some clause that he came with the house and will end up being buried here.’
Before she can reply, the door opens and Theo walks over to Rosie and kisses her on the cheek. He smells of the expensive body wash she saw in the ensuite. Relief at having him in the room floods her body.
‘Morning, babe. You should have woken me. Did you find everything you need?’ he asks.
‘Paulo looked after her. Watch out, she told me she likes older men.’ Luke winks.
‘I didn’t say that, I . . .’ Rosie stutters.
Theo pulls a funny face at Alba and settles into the seat beside Rosie. ‘So, Paulo, hey? Do I need to be worried?’
‘No! I mean, he made me a drink,’ she exclaims, taking in the playful look on Luke’s face and realising he’s winding her up.
‘What time did you get back last night?’ Theo turns and asks Luke.
‘Dunno. Not too long after you.’
They’d left Luke at the bar, despite Theo’s best efforts to get him to go with them. Luke had staggered over, smelling strongly of booze and cigarettes, slurring that he was staying out. Theo had rolled his eyes and told him he was old enough and ugly enough to make his own decisions.
There was no lipstick mark, no smell of perfume, nothing at all to suggest he’d kissed a woman who wasn’t his wife moments before.
‘Anything happen after we went?’ Theo asks.
Luke shakes his head. ‘Nope. Richard bought another round and disappeared with someone he knew and left me on my own. Nothing exciting.’
Rosie’s insides tighten. He doesn’t know that she knows. Flashbacks of the kiss flicker through her mind as Luke talks. She can’t concentrate on what he’s saying.
That’s not the only churning thought that bothers her.
Do the family like her? What do they really think of her?
She knows Theo says she’s doing great. They laughed at that joke she told.
The one she remembered from a Christmas cracker.
The one about a hamster that goes on holiday.
Childish, yes, but it raised a smile on his stepdad’s rigid lips.
But were they doing it merely out of politeness?
She re-lives conversations, analysing the way their faces tightened or softened, trying to understand her place in this perfect family. But no one is perfect, are they?
The dining room door opens and Carla steps into the room.
‘Buongiorno,’ she says brightly.
She’s wearing a muted grey tabard over a plain black t-shirt and trousers. A waft of sweet tropical perfume surrounds her. She silently picks up the crusts that Alba has dropped to the ground and hands Luke a soft toy that’s fallen. There’s nothing to suggest anything illicit happened between them.
Rosie sits up straight, hoping her heart rate will return to normal.
She steals a glance at Theo who is frowning at a message he’s received on his phone.
He’s completely unaware of what’s running through her mind.
She is alone with this secret. Maybe it was a silly drunken kiss.
That’s all. She takes a breath. Perhaps Fenna knows.
They could be one of these open-relationship sort of couples.
Luke was pretty brazen about it, given that anyone could have walked past.
Luke and Carla are both brilliant at acting like they barely know one another, but the atmosphere in the stuffy dining room tells another story.
‘You’re quiet this morning, babe.’ Theo’s concerned voice brings her back to the present.
‘Just a bit tired,’ she replies.
Theo keeps his eyes on her for a second to make sure she’s ok. ‘Was someone at the door earlier? I thought I heard the bell.’
Luke nods, a mouth full of food. He waits until Carla has left the room, closing the door behind her before he speaks. ‘Yeah, it was Giovanni.’ His voice is low.
Theo’s cup clatters against the saucer.
‘What did he want?’ Theo asks, reaching across for a napkin to mop up the coffee he’s spilt.
‘To stick his neck in. Same as always.’ Luke grimaces. ‘Apparently, someone complained about me messing with the poster of Danielle Dixon. Bloody snakes. What is wrong with these people? It was a joke. It’s funny, right, Rosie?’
Both men turn to look at her.
She wants to say that she found it disrespectful and uncalled for, but instead she smiles politely and ignores the question.
‘Who’s Giovanni?’ she asks.
‘A local policeman who has a vendetta against us,’ Theo explains. His voice is calm but there is an edge.
‘A vendetta?’ she repeats.
‘Maybe that’s the wrong word. He’s never liked us. He’s still annoyed that Luke stole his girlfriend when they were teenagers.’
Luke leans back in his chair. ‘I didn’t know she was his girlfriend. It was a holiday romance that ended years ago. Anyway, he’s never forgiven me. It’s true that Italians hold a grudge. We’re blamed if it rains here.’
He gives a nonchalant shrug and the conversation moves on to the plan for the day. Giovanni’s name isn’t mentioned again. Rosie tunes out of what’s being said, focusing instead on Luke’s body language. He’s trying hard not to seem shaken up by the police officer’s visit.
Maybe he’s not such a great liar after all.