was someone I met in the States,’ Dante had said tersely. ‘I don’t know why Nicole had to drag up the past.’
‘Was she a girlfriend?’ Rebekah could not help asking.
‘What does it matter who she was? I told you, I knew her years ago.’ He had given a careless shrug, but Rebekah had wondered why he had tightened his hands on the steering wheel until his knuckles had turned white. Realising that her prying had annoyed him, she had tried to make light conversation for the rest of the journey, but his responses had been monosyllabic. And that night, for the first time since they had been in Tuscany, he had not made love to her, but rolled onto his side, saying coolly that she was no doubt tired after their trip and she should get some sleep.
Maybe he was becoming bored of her, she thought bleakly as she walked back into the house. Maybe he was glad that they would be leaving Tuscany in a few short days, while she was dreading saying goodbye to him for ever. She was almost glad he had asked her to sort out his grandmother’s room. At least being busy stopped her from thinking about next Saturday, when they were due to leave.
Perlita’s personal belongings had not been touched since her death and Dante had requested Rebekah to empty the wardrobes and pack up his grandmother’s clothes so that they could be sent to a charity shop.
He walked in while she was pulling out boxes from beneath the bed. One storage chest contained old curtains but the contents of the second box were puzzling.
‘Children’s clothes,’ she said in surprise, ‘for a baby or toddler, I should think, from the size of them. And I guess, as they’re mainly blue, that they belong to a little boy. Oh, there’s a photo of a child …’ She reached into the box, but Dante leaned over her and snatched the picture out of her hand before she could study it properly.
‘Don’t touch anything in the box,’ he ordered curtly. ‘Shut the lid and leave it alone. In fact, you can leave the room. I’ll take over packing up my grandmother’s things.’
‘All right—keep your hair on!’ Rebekah sprang to her feet, but her irritation at being spoken to in such a peremptory tone faded when she saw Dante’s unguarded expression. It was the same agonised look she’d glimpsed in his eyes when he had shown her the photograph of his grandmother the day they had arrived at the house, nearly a month ago. She had sensed his grief at Perlita’s death was still raw. But why did he look devastated as he dropped to his knees in front of the box and lifted out a child’s teddy bear?
‘Boppa Bear,’ he murmured, as if he had forgotten Rebekah was there. ‘I had no idea Nonna had kept some of Ben’s things.’
She felt she should slip quietly from the room and leave Dante alone. He had told her once that he did not need anyone, but she did not believe it. The haunted look in his eyes evoked an ache in her heart and, without conscious thought, she placed her hand gently on his shoulder.
‘Who … who is Ben?’
‘It doesn’t matter.’ Shrugging off her hand, he dropped the toy bear into the box and closed the lid with a sharp thud before standing up. ‘It’s not your concern.’ He stared at her, his eyes no longer full of pain, but hard and unfathomable. ‘I came to tell you I heard your phone ringing somewhere in the house. You’d better go and find it.’
It was possible Dante had made up that he had heard her phone, but Rebekah had more sense than to ignore his strong hint that he wanted to be left alone. ‘I left it in the kitchen,’ she muttered as she walked out of the room. She could not help feeling hurt by his refusal to confide in her about the identity of the mystery child. Clearly the toys and other items in the box had held a sentimental meaning for his grandmother. Perhaps, many years ago, Perlita had lost a son, she mused. But the baby clothes were made of modern material and the bear looked much too new to have been fifty or more years old.
She heard her phone ringing. As she hurried along the glass-covered cloister and into the kitchen, the rain started to fall, smashing against the windows with awesome force that almost drowned out the low rumble of thunder.
The caller’s number on the screen was instantly recognizable and, with a sense of foreboding, she picked up her phone. ‘Mum?’
Ten minutes later, Dante swung round from the window, where he had been staring out unseeingly at the rain and frowned as Rebekah entered his grandmother’s room. ‘I told you I would take care of things in here,’ he said harshly. He controlled his impatience when he noticed her ashen face. ‘What’s the matter? Did you find out who was calling you?’
‘It was my mother. My grandmother is in hospital.’ Rebekah strove to keep the emotion from her voice but failed. ‘She … she’s not expected to last much longer. I must go home.’
‘Yes, of course.’ As he was speaking, Dante pulled his phone from his pocket to contact his pilot. In a strange way it was a relief to focus on something else rather than dwell on the fact that his grandmother had kept some of Ben’s things.
He glanced at Rebekah and his gut clenched when he saw the way she was biting her lip to prevent the tears glistening in her eyes from falling. For a moment he was tempted to take her in his arms and offer her whatever comfort he could. But a chasm seemed to have opened up between them. He could almost see her barriers going up and it was hardly surprising after the way he had snapped at her, he thought heavily.
He wished he had explained things to her. Perhaps if she knew about his past she would understand why he found it hard to open up and reveal his emotions. But now was not the time. She had problems of her own to deal with and his priority was to arrange her immediate return to Wales.
‘The pilot will have the plane ready in an hour,’ he told her. ‘Go and pack whatever you need, and I’ll arrange for the rest of your things to be sent on to you.’
‘Thank you.’ Rebekah blinked hard and willed her tears not to fall. So this was the end. It was possible that after today she would never see Dante again. It was better this way, she told herself, better that he had no idea she had fallen in love with him. At least she still had her pride. But it seemed a cold comfort and, as she turned in the doorway for one last look at him, she felt as though a little part of her had died.
Nana Glenys passed away peacefully a week after Rebekah returned home. The book of her recipes was still with the publishers, but Rebekah had taken copies of Nicole’s photos to the hospital. Nana had seemed more like her old self that day, and she had squeezed Rebekah’s hand and whispered how proud she felt that both their names were going to be on the front of the book. It was the last conversation Rebekah had with her but her grief at Nana’s death was eased a little by the knowledge that she had made her beloved grandmother happy.
The funeral was attended by the whole village, and in the days afterwards Rebekah helped her parents with the task of clearing out Nana’s cottage. Dante phoned when she had been in Wales for three weeks and asked if she would be returning to London. She had secretly hoped he would try to make her change her mind when she told him she wouldn’t be going back to him. But he merely wished her well in a cool, faintly bored voice which told her clearly that if she had not ended their affair he would undoubtedly have done so.
She hung on to her dignity long enough to say an equally cool goodbye, but as soon as she put the phone down she had a good cry and told herself how stupid she had been for falling for a playboy. Then she blew her nose and reminded herself that she could not remain at her parents’ farm indefinitely. She needed to find a job and get on with her life. Gaspard Clavier was still keen for her to work for him when she contacted him and suggested she
