He paused a moment, seeming to be deep in thought. ‘I have never taken a girl home.’
At least that answered one question. ‘You’ve never been serious about anyone?’
A muscle moved in his jaw. ‘Yes, I have been serious, but it didn’t work out I’d rather not discuss it. Have you finished? I want to make an early start.’
Celena realised that she had unwittingly hit a raw nerve, and although she was curious she knew it would be unwise to press the issue. Perhaps later, when she got to know him better, she might find out about this girl who had had such a profound effect on him. She was obviously the reason why he had never married.
Their appointment was with a well-known car-manufacturing company, and it was an exciting brief; Celena felt honoured that she had been asked to take part.
One other thing in her favour was that she spoke Italian—no doubt Luciano had known that as well when he’d invited her to take the job, she thought drily, and had been what he’d meant when he’d said she was doubly qualified—and even though the Sicilian dialect was different she was still able to understand, and the Sicilians themselves were impressed with her knowledge of their language. All in all she made a very big hit with them.
Afterwards they had lunch in a restaurant on the outskirts of Palermo and Luciano praised her warmly, but he did not linger; he was clearly anxious to see his family, and in particular his great-grandmother. He spoke of her constantly and it was very evident that there was a close bond between them.
He took the autostrada east along the coast, driving for about fifty miles before turning south through the centre of the island. The mountains were high and dramatic, river valleys cutting deeply into the landscape. The highway strode along the valley of the Hymera River, following the base of the Madonie Mountains, eventually arriving at the fortress town of Enna with its castle and its legend of Demeter and Persephone.
Finally Luciano stopped in front of an old palazzo on the outskirts of the town. Celena looked in wonder at the large, magnificent stone mansion with its arches and pillars and west wings and east wings and goodness knew what else. It had once, obviously, been very beautiful but now had a neglected air, as though no one bothered any more. Nevertheless she was extremely impressed. She had not envisaged anything as grand as this.
The grilled door swung slowly open as they approached, creaking on its hinges, and a young woman dressed in black smiled shyly at Luciano and curiously at Celena.
‘Buon giomo, Francesca,’ he said, and, still speaking in his native language, added, ‘My great-grandmother is expecting us?’
Francesca nodded, her smile widening, and she was obviously in complete awe of Luciano.
After introducing Celena he led her up an impressive, wide curving staircase. At the top was a stained-glass window through which the sun cast a myriad different colours. It was like walking into fairyland.
Along a red-carpeted corridor they went, through a door, and down another passage, all with ornate plaster-work and beautiful crystal chandeliers. A heavy wooden door faced them. Luciano knocked, and even he did not enter without permission.
‘Avanti!’
Celena had expected a quiet, quavering voice, not this strong, authoritative one. She glanced questioningly at Luciano but all he did was smile reassuringly as they entered the shaded room.
Great-grandmother Segurini was tiny, sitting upright on a red velvet chair, dressed all in black, with a square of black lace over her white hair. Dark eyes had sunk into their sockets many years ago yet they held an imperiousness that told that she was still the undisputed matriarch of the family. They brightened when she saw her great-grandson and he moved swiftly across the room to kiss her cheek and give her a bear-like hug.
‘You are here at last,’ she said in her native tongue. ‘I have waited so long for your visit, Luciano. And this is Celena? Come closer, child; let me look at you.’
Celena obediently edged forward, surprised that Luciano had already mentioned her.
‘Goodness, you are prettier than your photograph!’ exclaimed the woman.
Photograph! What was she talking about? Celena frowned at Luciano but he shook his head and made a tiny gesture with his hand for her to say nothing. She decided that any photograph must have been of his previous girlfriend and he wanted to save his great-grandmother embarrassment by keeping quiet She and the girlfriend were obviously very similar in appearance for his great-grandmother to have made this mistake.
Celena’s eyes had grown accustomed to the dimness now and she was able to see Giacoma Segurini more clearly. Thin, gnarled fingers were heavily adorned with diamonds and garnets, as were her throat and ears. She sat like a queen on her throne—and Celena had no doubt that this was how the family regarded her. But despite her upright bearing and her imperious air she looked pale and frail, as though her hold on life was very tenuous.
The old lady held out her hands and Celena took them and was given a kiss on each cheek. ‘Luciano has chosen well,’ she said, smiling happily. ‘Everyone is very anxious to meet you.’
‘But I’m not who you—’ Celena began, anxious to set the matter straight. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Luciano stiffen, but she did not care. It was wrong of him to deceive his great-grandmother. Why couldn’t he tell her the truth, for heaven’s sake? But the old woman totally ignored Celena’s attempt to speak.
‘He has told you, I expect, that he is my eldest and most favourite great-grandchild?’
‘Yes,’ she admitted huskily. ‘But I really must—’
‘He has disappointed me, however, by not getting married before now. Thirty-seven!’ She tutted as though scandalised. ‘My own husband was twenty-two when I married him; I was twenty. When he was Luciano’s age our eldest was already fourteen, and we had three other children besides. How old are you, Celena?’
Twenty-eight,’ she answered reluctantly. It was quite obvious that she was not going to be given the chance to speak.
Again the old woman tutted. ‘You people today, what is wrong with you? Where is all the love and romance gone? You work, work, work. You spend all your lives working instead of bringing up a family. I do not understand.’
‘Things have changed, Bisnonna,’ said Luciano.
The woman spread her hands expansively. ‘Maybe, but I do not like it. I do not approve. At least now you have come to your senses and you have chosen a beautiful girl. Leave us alone, Luciano; I would like to talk with her.’
‘Not now, Bisnonna,’ he said soothingly, much to Celena’s dismay. It would have been the ideal opportunity to tell this quite remarkable old lady exactly who she was. ‘We were up early; we’ve had a busy day; Celena needs to rest.’
‘Then later,’ announced the woman regally.
Once outside the room Celena turned furiously on Luciano. ‘What sort of game are you playing, letting your great-grandmother think that I am your girlfriend?’
‘It is just a little deception,’ he answered easily—too easily, Celena thought. ‘It will do no harm.’
‘I
