Dreaming of Rome Read online

  Dreaming of Rome

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  Copyright

  To Mariangela and Christina, as always, with love.

  Chapter 1

  It was a magical setting, and everywhere she looked there was romance in the warm evening air.

  But not at their table.

  And that was just fine with her.

  They were sitting under a parasol on the west side of Piazza Navona in the heart of Rome. She was sipping Prosecco while he had opted for a cold beer. The sun had dropped low on the horizon by now and the ground was already in the shade, although the residual heat from the scorching July sun still radiated up from the cobbles. The top of the obelisk rising from the centre of Bernini’s spectacular Fountain of the Four Rivers in the middle of the square was tipped ruby red by the last rays of the setting sun, and the shadow it cast against the buildings on the opposite side lengthened by the minute. All around them in this pedestrians-only area were crowds of happy people, mostly tourists, laughing and chatting. Along with the tourists were also lots of Romans, like the man sitting alongside her.

  Conversation between the two of them wasn’t exactly flowing, even now. In the car on the way back into the city centre, he had barely uttered a word and Jo hadn’t wanted to disturb his concentration as he weaved the battered little Fiat in and out of the traffic chaos that Romans accept as an everyday fact of life. She had lost count of the times she had found her right foot stamping the floor in search of a non-existent brake pedal, her hands gripping the seat belt apprehensively as he slipped confidently between lines of cars, often four or five abreast, narrowly avoiding being crushed by buses that sliced imperiously through the traffic. Gradually she had started to relax as she realised he knew what he was doing, but her palms were sticky by the time they reached their destination; a tiny, narrow road where he had a flat with a garage – a rarity in the centre of the city.

  Jo had been encouraged by the presence of his dog. Throughout the journey, Daisy the Labrador had stood braced on the floor behind her, tail wagging, swaying with every movement of the car. The back seat was folded down so she was right behind Jo and she leant forward from time to time to stick her big black nose out of the window as she spotted something of note – normally another dog. On several occasions she felt compelled to bark a greeting or a challenge, and Jo’s right ear was still ringing now as a result. However, the confident attitude of the big dog had reassured Jo, although the idea of what sixty or seventy pounds of canine bone and muscle flying forwards might do to both of them if Corrado misjudged a manoeuvre and crashed the car was something she preferred not to contemplate.

  Now safely in the heart of the Eternal City, Daisy was stretched out on the cobbles at their feet, resting and recuperating in her turn after the events of the day, while the two humans at the table searched for something to talk about. It had been kind of Corrado to offer Jo a lift back into Rome, but it was pretty obvious he was just being polite. Still, he was the brother of the man her sister was going to marry – practically a brother-in-law – so she knew she had to make an effort.

  ‘I’m glad everything went so perfectly today, Corrado. Lunch was amazing.’

  ‘My mother didn’t do it all on her own. One of the chefs from the restaurant came along and they did it together.’

  Her sister’s decision to marry into a family who owned a hotel and restaurant clearly had its advantages. ‘Well, the result was wonderful. I’ve never had zucchini flowers stuffed with mozzarella and anchovies before. They were exquisite. And the chicken with peppers…’

  ‘You liked the Pollo alla Romana? It’s one of my mother’s specialities.’

  ‘It was terrific.’

  The conversation lapsed once more, but Jo really didn’t mind. She sat back and stretched her legs, careful to avoid the sleeping dog, as she soaked up the atmosphere here in the ancient heart of this wonderful city. The temperature, after the intense heat of the day, was now perfect and she felt pleasantly relaxed. It had been hard work making conversation in Italian with her sister’s future in-laws and it was good to be able to speak English again now with Corrado. And he spoke it perfectly.

  ‘Do you work in London, Joanne?’

  ‘Yes, and it’s just Jo. Only my parents call me Joanne these days.’

  ‘And what do you do… Jo?’

  ‘I work for a conservation charity.’ She gave him the name and saw recognition in his eyes. He had removed his sunglasses and she noticed for the first time that his deep blue eyes were strangely hypnotic, when he bothered to look at her.

  ‘Do you enjoy your job?’

  ‘I love the work, but my boss can be a bit of a pain.’

  ‘And what do you do there?’

  ‘I report to the CEO and the board. I’m responsible for coming up with proposals as to how we spend our money. Like all charities, we have finite resources and there’s an awful lot of work to be done around the world.’

  ‘Sounds like a big job for a young woman.’

  ‘Not so young. I’ll be thirty in a few weeks’ time.’

  He smiled and it lit up his face. ‘Still younger than me.’

  As his interest strayed out across the piazza once more, Jo studied him surreptitiously over the rim of her glass. She already knew he was the elder of the two brothers. His younger brother, Mario, was twenty-eight, just like her sister. This had emerged today at the lunch to celebrate Mario’s engagement to Angie, and Jo was here from England to represent their family after their father’s hip operation had prevented their parents from coming over. From the look of Corrado, she reckoned he was maybe two or three years older than she was, probably in his early or even mid thirties.

  The unsettling thing about him, however, was that he was gorgeous.

  He was tall and, unusually for a Roman, he had light brown hair. His shoulders were broad and she felt sure he must work out, although maybe not obsessively. His forearms were strong and his expensive polo shirt fitted immaculately across his well-developed chest. His face was lightly tanned and there was no doubt about it, he was a really handsome man who wouldn’t have looked out of place on the catwalk or in a blockbuster movie. As she sat there, it didn’t take long before she realised that quite a few of the women walking past shared her opinion, some of them even smiling in his direction even though he made no attempt to respond. She settled back and enjoyed the show, smiling in her turn. The fact that her relationship with Corrado was purely that of a future family member suited her fine. One thing was for sure, she wasn’t in the market for a man who looked like a Hollywood idol. She had had her fill of handsome men, and she knew to her cost that they couldn’t be trusted.

  She reflected that this was just about the first time she had sat down for a drink with a man alone since Christian, the love of her life with whom she had genuinely expected to spend the rest of her years, had decided she wasn’t, after all, the love of his life. He had
demonstrated this by walking out on her on a frosty morning five months earlier in order to fly off to even colder Iceland to be with a fellow model called Helga. The rest of the winter and the spring had been tough for Jo. She had sought to bury herself in her work and forget about him, but without a great deal of success. Things at work had been mixed; she had been promoted to this new higher position, but this had brought her into direct daily contact with the irascible CEO, Ronald, and she was finding working with him seriously challenging. And, as if that wasn’t enough, thoughts of Christian and his six-foot-tall Icelander girlfriend continued to plague her quieter moments.

  Now, for the first time in months, she found herself in the company of a very good-looking man, but without the pressure. He was courteous and attentive, but there was nothing in his behaviour that indicated any kind of romantic interest towards her, which was definitely for the best. Apart from his good looks, getting involved with her sister’s future brother-in-law would have been complicated, to say the least. He wasn’t wearing a ring and today he had come alone to the family gathering out at the estate in the country, and she wondered idly if there was a woman in his life. If there was, Jo wished her well. Hanging onto a hunk like this would be fraught with danger and almost inevitable heartache.

  ‘And your parents have a farm, Jo?’

  ‘Not a very big farm. It’s more of a smallholding really, near Woodstock, just outside Oxford.’ As usual, she added the qualification. ‘Not the Summer of Love Woodstock in the USA. This is a little place just to the north of Oxford.’

  ‘I know it well. I often used to drop into the Woodstock Arms for a drink.’ Seeing her surprise, he went on to explain in more detail. ‘I went to university in Oxford and I used to go riding most weekends at stables just outside Woodstock.’

  ‘So that’s why your English is so good. What did you study?’

  ‘Chemistry at Trinity. I’m a chemist.’ For the first time he looked a bit insecure. ‘Sorry, that’s stating the obvious.’

  The conversation then lapsed once again as she saw his eyes follow a pair of very pretty girls who walked past their table, arm in arm. He followed their bottoms with his eyes until the girls were lost in the crowd. Jo did her best to stifle an upsurge of annoyance. Christian, too, had had a habit of losing interest in her any time an attractive woman appeared on the scene. Corrado the chemist was clearly cut from the same cloth. Resignedly, she took a large mouthful of Prosecco and swallowed hard. Alas, half of it went down the wrong way and she dissolved into a coughing fit so severe, the dog even got up and laid a big heavy paw on her knees, subjecting her to a puzzled look.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  Corrado had returned his attention to her now, but as she had tears in her eyes and her face was flushed, she would have preferred it if he had still been looking elsewhere, even if it was at other girls’ bottoms. She retrieved a tissue from her bag, wiped her eyes and blew her nose. Finally, she caught hold of the Labrador’s paw and gave it a squeeze before answering.

  ‘Fine, thanks. Sorry about that.’ She glanced down at the dog. ‘Thank you for the support, Daisy. Now you can go back to sleep.’

  As the dog settled back down on the cobbles again with a heavy sigh, Jo also sat back and growled at herself. It was so frustrating that even now Christian could still mess with her head and it annoyed her immensely. She blew her nose again and did her best to dismiss the thought of her ex. Unaware of what was going on in her head, Corrado made another stab at conversation.

  ‘So, apart from your work, how do you spend your time? Angie tells me you do a lot of riding, just like her.’

  Jo shook her head. ‘I used to, but these days I don’t get out to the country as often as I’d like. I’m too busy and, besides, I’ve never been in Angie’s league.’ There was still a drop of Prosecco in her glass, so she took a cautious sip. ‘To be honest, when I get a bit of free time, my hobby is butterflies.’

  ‘Lepidoptera? Well, well. So, have you got a big collection?’

  She shook her head. ‘I don’t collect them. I wouldn’t dream of killing one. I love butterflies and I take loads of photos, but I hate butterfly collectors.’ Jo could hear her tone harden, but this particular bee had been buzzing about in her bonnet for years. ‘It’s all so Victorian. Collectors go round with nets and “kill jars”. See it, catch it, kill it, mount it. Like those old photos you see of men with handlebar moustaches and ladies in long skirts standing with one foot on some poor dead tiger or giraffe. And they wonder why there are so many endangered species these days.’

  She caught Corrado’s eye and summoned a smile.

  ‘Sorry, Corrado. I don’t mean to sound so bitter. It’s just that I wouldn’t ever want to kill anything, whether it’s walking on land, flying about or swimming in the sea, and I don’t understand why anybody would, unless it’s for food.’

  ‘I can see why you chose to work in conservation. We’re making a right mess of the planet, aren’t we? But for butterflies, you should spend more time out at the Country Club with Mario and Angie. They don’t use weedkiller and it’s all organic. There are all manners of butterflies there. What time is your flight back to London tomorrow? Maybe I could take you out there again.’

  Corrado and Mario’s family owned a large estate about twenty kilometres outside Rome with a restaurant, hotel and riding stables. It was a big undertaking and Mario had just taken over running it as his father gradually stepped back. Angie had been working there in charge of the stables for the past year and had fallen in love with Mario in the process. However, as far as Jo knew, Corrado the chemist was not involved with the business.

  ‘That’s very kind, Corrado, but I’ve got a very early flight, so I won’t be able to make it.’

  ‘Well, next time then.’

  ‘Indeed.’

  Conversation lapsed once more and Jo glanced at her watch. It was just after nine and she knew she would have to be up really early next morning so as to get out to Rome’s Leonardo da Vinci airport – known to all Romans simply as Fiumicino, the nearby town – in good time for her flight. She resolved to head back to her hotel pretty soon, knowing she needed to get as much sleep as possible in readiness for what would be a busy week at work. After the enormous banquet they had been served for lunch, she couldn’t face the idea of any more food, so dinner was out of the question. Then just as that thought occurred to her, it appeared that Corrado was reading her mind.

  ‘How about dinner, Jo? It’s a bit touristy here, but the food’s very good.’

  She shook her head and was about to explain that she couldn’t possibly eat another thing when they were interrupted by a voice.

  ‘Ciao, Corrado. Come stai, amore?’

  Jo looked up. The voice emanated from a very pretty girl in her twenties who proceeded to drape herself around Corrado’s shoulders and do her best to nibble his ear off. For a second, he caught Jo’s eye and had the decency to look just a little bit embarrassed, before fending the girl off and replying.

  ‘Ciao, bellissima.’

  Jo sat back and listened to their conversation. It was conducted at pace and although she had studied Italian at school and had been doing an evening class for some years now, she still found it hard to follow. What was clear, however, was that the girl was thanking Corrado for something that had happened a few weekends earlier and was asking when it could be repeated. Although unfamiliar with all the vocabulary being used, you didn’t need to be a qualified interpreter to understand the nature of what had taken place and what was being proposed. To her surprise, however, Corrado sounded evasive and when the girl eventually left, it was without any kind of commitment from him to meet up again. From the expression on the girl’s face, she was more than a little miffed, and the parting glance she shot at Jo was brimming with venom, presumably identifying her as Corrado’s latest conquest.

  ‘Sorry about that, Jo. An old friend.’

  Jo nodded but didn’t comment. Once again, unhappy memories had be
en stirred by the scene. After a brief pause, she made one final attempt at conversation.

  ‘And what sort of chemist are you, Corrado? Where do you work?’

  ‘Just on the outskirts of Rome. We started off doing clinical testing: everything from pregnancy, to allergies, to bowel cancer. Not the most glamorous stuff, I know, but very important all the same. Now we’re moving into all kinds of other stuff. You might be interested in what we’ve been working on recently: non-plastics. We’re working on alternatives to plastic for packaging, cups, straws and all manner of other uses.’

  ‘That’s interesting.’

  He smiled. ‘I’m sure in your conservation work you must come across all sorts of problems caused by plastics. Hopefully we’ll have cost-effective, natural, bio-degradable alternatives before too long. Some already exist, but the trick is to drive the price right down so industry automatically chooses these over traditional plastic.’

  ‘That sounds amazing.’ And it did. In many ways, he and she were working in the same field. ‘Although our main thrust is conservation, we’re generally all about saving the planet, and plastics are one of the worst scourges of the modern era. I’d be very interested to hear more about your work some time. So, are you glued to a microscope all day?’

  ‘I wish. I seem to spend all my time at conferences or seminars or, even worse, talking to accountants and bankers. The chemistry’s the bit I’ve always liked. The business bit can be a pain.’

  Jo reflected that he would appear to be a whole lot more than a simple chemist and she resolved to ask Angie for more information. After another glance at her watch, she finished the last of her Prosecco and turned towards him.

  ‘Well, it’s been very nice to meet you, Corrado, and thank you so much for giving me a lift back into town, but I think I’ll go back to my hotel now and have an early night. I need to be up at five tomorrow morning for my flight.’

  ‘Sure you’re not staying for dinner? Not even a salad or something?’

  ‘No, thanks. I’m still full.’

  ‘Well, let me give you a lift back to the hotel, at least.’