physique which appealed to Hester far more than the grace of the urbane Italian.
‘Ah, Hester,’ Connah said, smiling, as he took the jug from her. ‘Perhaps you’ll pour for us while Lowri hands round the cakes?’
‘Certainly.’ She looked enquiringly at Luigi Martinelli, who promptly took the seat beside her as she sat down. ‘You like your coffee black?’
‘Grazie.’ He eyed her with open appreciation. ‘And how do you like my homeland, Miss Hester? You have travelled here before?’
‘Not here exactly. I’ve been to Venice, but this is my first time in Tuscany, which is so beautiful, how could I not like it? Please, have one of Flavia’s cakes.’
He took one from the plate Lowri was offering, smiling fondly at the child. ‘And how old are you, carina?’
‘Ten,’ she said quietly, shy in the presence of this exotic visitor.
‘You are a tall lady for ten,’ he said with admiration.
‘Is Sophia with you?’ asked Connah.
‘No. My wife is in Rome. Where else? She does not care for the campagna! Luigi shrugged. ‘But from time to time I experience la nostalgia for the tranquillity of my old home. When I heard that Casa Girasole was occupied I assumed that the Andersons were here and came to invite them to dinner tonight. But I would count it a great privilege, Connah, if you and your ladies would honour me with your company instead.’
Connah shook his head decisively. ‘Sorry, Luigi. We keep early hours here to suit my daughter. Another time, perhaps.’
‘Of course.’ Luigi drained his cup and stood up. ‘It was a great pleasure to meet you, Miss Hester, also you, Miss Lowri. A charming name,’ he added. ‘I have never heard it before.’
‘It’s Welsh for Laura,’ she volunteered shyly.
He startled the child by bowing gracefully over her hand before bidding the others goodbye. ‘I hope to see you again soon. Ciao.’
Luigi Martinelli strolled off the way he’d come, knowing—and probably enjoying the fact—that three pairs of eyes watched him go.
‘What a nice man,’ said Lowri, taking the chair next to Hester. ‘Can I have some limonata, please?’
Connah raised an eyebrow at Hester as she poured it. ‘What did you think of our local sprig of nobility? I should have introduced him as Count Pierluigi Martinelli. The local Castello has been in his family for centuries.’
‘Flavia mentioned the title as she rushed to make coffee for him.’ Hester smiled. ‘You note that the Andersons’ best china was produced for Il Conte.’
‘Flavia has lived here all her life. In her mind, she numbers God, the local priest and Luigi as most important in the local pecking order—though not necessarily in that order. As a girl she was a maid up at the Castello, and Nico, her husband, is Luigi’s gardener.’
‘Is it a real castle with turrets and things?’ asked Lowri, fascinated. ‘I would have liked to see it, Daddy.’
He smiled ruefully. ‘Sorry, cariad, I should have consulted you before turning Luigi down.’
‘We couldn’t have gone tonight anyway,’ she reminded him. ‘We’ve got Flavia’s special chicken dinner.’
‘So we have.’ Connah picked up the tray. ‘I’ll leave the lemonade, but I’ll take the rest in for Flavia, then I think I’ll change and have a swim.’
‘Me too,’ said Lowri promptly, stripping off her shirt. ‘Are you going to change back into your bikini, Hester?’
‘I don’t think so. You can have your swim with your father,’ said Hester, avoiding Connah’s eye.
‘Spoilsport,’ he murmured as his daughter jumped into the pool.
Hester was happy to sit where she was, watching as father and daughter played in the pool. Connah’s muscular body was broad in the shoulder and slim-hipped, also deeply tanned, probably, thought Hester, by some other foreign sun, in striking contrast to his daughter, whose fair skin was already acquiring a glow, courtesy of the Tuscan sun, but it was a different tone from her father’s. Lowri’s eyes and skin obviously came from her mother and, as she often did, Hester wondered about the woman Connah had cared for so deeply. After the one startling incident when he’d showed his emotions on the subject, he hadn’t mentioned her again. And why should he? Theirs was a professional, working relationship, she reminded herself. On Connah’s side, anyway.
Eventually, after much splashing and laughter, father and daughter went in the house to shower and dress. When Connah announced that he was going to do some work before dinner Lowri asked him if she could walk to the village with Hester.
‘Flavia says they have good gelato in the shop there,’ she said eagerly.
‘How you do love your ice cream,’ he mocked. ‘But I’d rather you didn’t go without me, and I can’t come right now. We’ll all walk there another time.’
Lowri pouted a little, but brightened when Hester suggested that instead they ask Flavia for instructions about heating her pollo cacciatore. ‘We’ll ask her to teach us the Italian words for things in the kitchen.’
This programme met with warm approval and a lively hour was spent in the kitchen with a delighted Flavia, who enjoyed the impromptu Italian lesson as much as her students. Afterwards she said her farewells, wished them a happy time in Greve the next day and set off down the road on her bicycle with all the panache of a competitor in the Tour de France.
‘She’s so jolly and nice,’ said Lowri, and gave Hester an impish grin. ‘A lot different from Grandma’s Mrs Powell.’
Since Flavia had already laid the table on the loggia and the pot of chicken merely needed heating when they were ready to eat, Hester suggested it might be a good idea to sit quietly in the salone with a book until it was time for supper.
‘Will you sit with me?’ said Lowri quickly.
‘Of course.’ But as they settled down together Hester felt troubled. Lowri was becoming far too dependent on her. Which was delightful in one way, because Hester was very fond of the child. But when the day came to say goodbye, as it always did, the parting would be even more painful than in the past. The other children she’d cared for had cried bitterly when she’d left, but unlike Lowri they’d had their mothers to comfort them. Although Lowri had Connah and her grandmother, Hester consoled herself. Children were resilient. She would soon recover once she was back in school with Chloe and all her friends.
The supper was a great success. On instruction from Flavia, Hester served a first course of Parma ham with ripe figs bursting with juice. The savoury cacciatore that followed tasted as delicious as its aroma, but it was so substantial that when Hester offered the depleted selection of cakes for dessert not even Lowri had room for one.
‘Gosh, I’m full,’ she said, yawning.
‘In that case, to let your supper go down you’d better stroll round the garden for a while with Daddy while I clear
