Page 46 of In Italy for Love

‘I know he was trying to make me jealous,’ he said grimly, flipping on the indicator as he approached the turning where they headed up the switchbacks through the villages clinging to the hillside above. ‘I know, because itworked, damn it.’

19

Jules sat in stunned silence as the Fiat climbed – and climbed. She had the impression of a wide valley beyond the sharp drop-off at the side of the road. Every few hundred metres, Alex slowed and then carefully swung the car around another tight bend – calmly, as though he hadn’t just admitted that he’d been jealous of Davide.

Jealous, when she’d barely listened to Davide, she’d been so caught up in her confusion. When she’d barely been able to look at Alex all afternoon because of the mess of thoughts and feelings abouthimthat could go nowhere.

The worst part was that shehadknown, on some level, that this thing between her and Alex was causing problems. She’d just pretended she hadn’t – and hoped her suspicions about his great loss weren’t true.

She closed her hand around the grip on the car door, as though that could steady her light-headed emotions. Her other hand was curled around the cool glass bottle of fresh olive oil that was slowly making her legs go numb.

The road was so narrow she didn’t know how another car would pass without one of them tumbling into the valley. Butpeople obviously lived up here. Every few minutes came another little settlement, houses with stone detailing and clay roof tiles and wooden eaves like the ones in Cividale.

She should say something, but she was torn between wanting to grumble at him for being hot and cold and apologising herself for intruding on his grief. Certainly, in comparison to her own recent misfortune, he deserved understanding.

That’s what she’d been telling herself all day anyway.

Before anything inside her had settled – and her stomach was roiling from more than just her emotions after all the hairpin bends – he finally pulled the car to a stop near a woodpile opposite a rendered building with the shutters closed. The verge was narrow and he had to park on a steep angle, tugging the manual park brake hard.

The last glow of light was rapidly disappearing over the mountains far in the distance and when she pushed open the car door, the cold rushed quickly at her skin. Alex got out and tramped up to the building, knocking at a blue door set under the weathered wooden balcony. The house was decorated with rusty old farm tools and woven baskets. A carriage wheel and an old barrel wine press stood on a small terrace by the door.

There was apparently no answer to Alex’s knock and Jules struggled out of the car, lugging the heavy glass. Worried she’d drop it, she dumped it into the footwell, hoping Alex would be able to heft it back out.

‘It doesn’t look open,’ she pointed out as she released the bouncing Arco from the back seat, attaching the lead.

‘They only open for lunch for day trippers. There are very few people around here in the evening.’

‘I noticed,’ she commented drily.

He knocked again, leaning his other hand on the lintel as he did so. He’d probably have to duck to get through the door. With a frown, he turned back in time to see her shiver.

‘I don’t have Gabriella’s number, but I’ll call Berengario. Put your… coat on.’

She grabbed the jacket self-consciously, trying not to dwell on the fact that it had belonged to his dead wife Laura.

He called the old man several times, but there was no answer and when he glanced up and met her gaze, the memory of what he’d told her in the car hung between them: Berengario was matchmaking.

‘I’ll call Maddalena,’ he murmured. That conversation was animated – and punctuated by deep sighs and an exasperated, ‘Che cosa?’ When he ended the call, he was still grumbling to himself. She caught something that sounded like, ‘Madonna,’ but was definitely not a prayer. ‘She says she arranged that the oil would be collected tomorrow morning. No idea where Gabriella is.’

‘Berengario has definitely been up to no good,’ Jules said flatly.

‘God, I’m sorry.’

‘It’s not your fault,’ she pointed out.

‘Itis. I knew what he was doing and I still brought you all this way for nothing, after such a long day. I’ll find a place to leave the oil and we’ll go home again. Make sure you stay warm.’

She watched him as he hauled the bulbous bottle out of the footwell and stomped up the concrete stairs to the back of the building. He seemed to be even grumpier than he’d ever been with her.

He ran an agitated hand through his hair as he flung the car door open again and she rushed to close Arco into the back and climb in herself. ‘There’s nothing lost, Alex,’ she assured him. ‘It’s interesting for me to see this place.’

That only seemed to make him grumpier. ‘Merda,’ he cursed, leaning over her to rummage in the glovebox. He came awaywith a small torch. ‘I was supposed to show you the monumental chestnut.’

‘We can just go. It’s almost completely dark,’ she pointed out.

‘You don’t want to see it? Then I really have brought you out here for nothing.’

Confusion rippled over her skin again seeing him so worked up. He’d admitted he was jealous of Davide, had willingly allowed Berengario to trick them into spending time together, and yet he was moody and prickly, as though he couldn’t get away from her fast enough. ‘Fine!’ she threw back, lifting her hands in exasperation before reaching for Arco’s lead once more. ‘I want to see the tree!’

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