anything like that, but there was going to be wine and canapés, stuff like that, and Maria and I—Maria’s another of the receptionists at the hotel, like me—we thought it might be worth a look.’
‘And it was,’ commented Grace drily, and Julia gave a rueful grin.
‘Wasn’t it just?’ she agreed eagerly. ‘I saw Matt the minute I walked in.’ She smiled reminiscently. ‘It turned out that it was his cousin who owned the gallery, and he’d only agreed to come along to show some support.’
Grace nodded. ‘So how did you wangle an introduction?’
‘I didn’t.’ Julia looked smug. ‘I introduced myself. I had the ideal opportunity, you see. Signor Massina—he was the guest who gave me the tickets—asked me to offer Carlo—that’s the name of Matt’s cousin—his apologies, and I made sure that when I spoke to him Matt was there.’
‘Ah.’ Grace remembered from their college days how manipulative Julia could be when she chose. ‘And I suppose he was bowled over by your charm and beauty,’ she remarked teasingly. ‘How long did it take you to get him to ask you out?’
‘Oh, a long time.’ Julia dimpled. ‘It must have been twenty-four hours, at least. It might have been sooner if we hadn’t been staying the night with Maria’s sister. As it was, he took my phone number and called the next day.’
Grace arched a silvery brow. ‘He must have been keen.’
‘He was.’ Julia was complacent. ‘We’ve been going out together ever since.’ She put down her coffee and stretched luxuriously. ‘It’s our anniversary next week.’
Grace was surprised. ‘You’ve been going out together for a year?’
‘Six months,’ protested Julia impatiently. ‘You don’t think I’d be so happy if we’d been going out together for a year without any commitment, do you?’
Grace shrugged. ‘People do do it. Marriage isn’t always the first thing on a person’s mind these days.’
‘It is if your name’s di Falco,’ declared Julia grimly, suddenly losing her ready smile. ‘You don’t think that old harridan of a grandmother would agree to her beloved Matteo setting up house with his girlfriend, do you? Believe me, Grace, it wouldn’t happen. She doesn’t want any of her great-grandchildren to have someone else’s name.’
‘Well, I suppose she has a point.’ Grace tried to be objective. ‘But I do know couples who’ve lived together and when the children have come along the father has arranged for them to legally take his name—’
‘I’m telling you, it wouldn’t happen,’ insisted Julia doggedly. ‘Honestly, Grace, you don’t understand the situation here. Well, the situation with the di Falcos, anyway. Apart from any other objections she might have, the old lady is a staunch Roman Catholic. There’s just no way she’d countenance her great-granddaughter’s father living—“in sin”.’
Julia made quotation marks with her fingers around the last two words, and then reached rather clumsily for her coffee. It was obvious that this subject was one with which she wasn’t at all happy, but it was only when she spilled some of her coffee onto her sleeve that Grace actually absorbed what else she had said.
‘Her—great-granddaughter’s father?’ she said somewhat blankly. ‘Is this some hypothetical offspring, or what?’
‘No.’ Julia hunched her shoulders grumpily. ‘I forgot to tell you: Matt’s been married before.’
‘And he has a child?’
‘Well, she’s hardly a child,’ muttered Julia unwillingly. ‘She’s nineteen, I think. I’ve only met her once. She’s at college in Milan.’
Grace was stunned. ‘So he’s married!’
‘No, he’s a widower.’ Julia was growing increasingly irritable. ‘Do you think I’d be wasting my time if he was married to someone else?’
Grace shrugged. That point was moot. She had no wish to remind her friend that she had had a relationship with one of their married tutors in college. But she had the feeling that there was more to this relationship than Julia was telling her. Not least, how his daughter felt about her.
‘Well,’ she said now, trying to be positive, ‘that’s not a problem then. And if you and Matteo—Matt—are in love—’
‘If we are,’ said Julia, putting down her coffee again, and Grace wondered what she’d said to resurrect these doubts. ‘Okay, I know he cares about me. He wouldn’t want to go on seeing me otherwise. But as for us getting married—well, that’s a whole different ball game.’
Grace hesitated. ‘But it is what you want?’
‘Are you kidding?’ Julia blew out a breath. ‘Of course it’s what I want. But that doesn’t mean that Matt—well, it doesn’t mean that he’d be willing to fight his grandmother for the privilege.’
‘And you suspect he might have to?’
‘If this weekend was anything to go by, definitely.’ Julia snorted. ‘I think she made it blatantly clear that I’m not the woman she wants for Matt.’
Grace sighed. ‘Because she didn’t speak any English?’ She shook her head. ‘Isn’t that a tiny bit negative? Perhaps she was trying to find out how committed you are to becoming an Italian yourself.’
‘It wasn’t just the fact that she didn’t speak any English,’ insisted Julia impatiently. ‘For God’s sake, she hardly spoke to me at all. And she made sure that I was given a room about half a mile away from Matt’s apartments. The di Falco villa is huge, you see. I even had a problem finding my way back to the drawing room before dinner.’
‘Even so—’
‘Even so, nothing.’ Julia shook her head. ‘She knew very well that I’d expected to share Matt’s apartments. I don’t know what century she’s living in, but she behaved as if our relationship didn’t mean a thing.’
Grace sighed. ‘You know what old people are like—’
‘I know what she’s like,’ agreed Julia bitterly. ‘She’ll do anything she can to split us up.’
‘You don’t know that.’
‘Don’t I?’ Julia regarded her with accusing eyes. ‘What if I tell you that I wasn’t the only guest at the villa this weekend?’
‘Well...’
‘It was the first time I’d had the opportunity to visit Matt’s home,’ went on Julia resentfully. ‘I thought it was just going to be a family occasion, but when we arrived all these other people were there.’
‘Well,’ began Grace again, ‘perhaps she thought it would make things easier for you. Did you ask Matteo about it? Perhaps it was his idea.’
‘It wasn’t.’ Julia spoke flatly. ‘He knew nothing about it until we got there. But the real sickener was that the old lady had invited this woman, Caterina Vincenzi. A contessa, no less, and fairly obviously
