He paid the bill and they walked out into the glaring sunshine. Dee said: ″I think the church is the best place to start. Vicars always seem to know everything about everybody.″
″Priests, in Italy,″ Mike corrected her. He had been brought up a Catholic.
They walked hand in hand along the main street. The oppressive heat seemed to impose on them the enervated lifestyle of the village: they moved slowly and spoke little, subconsciously adjusting to the climate.
They arrived at the pretty little church, and stood in its shade for a few minutes, enjoying the cool. Mike said: ″Have you thought about what you′re going to do with the picture if you get it?″
″Yes, I′ve thought a lot,″ she replied. She wrinkled the bridge of her nose in a frown which was all her own. ″Most of all, I want to study it. It ought to provide enough ideas for half a thesis—and the rest is just padding. But ...″
″But what?″
″You tell me but what.″
ʺThe money.″
″Damn right. Oops!″ She caught herself swearing, and looked around the churchyard nervously.
ʺThereʹs a lot of it involved.″
″Money? I know.″ She tossed her hair back over her shoulder. ″I′m not trying to kid myself I′m not interested in cash, either. Perhaps if we could sell it to someone who would let me see it whenever I wanted—maybe a museum.″
Mike said levelly: ʺI notice you said ′we.′ ″
″Of course! Youʹre in this with me, arenʹt you?″
He put his hands on her shoulders. ″You only just invited me.″ He kissed her lips quickly. ″You have just hired an agent. I think you made a very good choice.″
She laughed. ″What do you think I ought to do about marketing it?″
ʺIʹm not sure. I′ve got some ideas kicking around in my mind, but nothing definite. Let′s find the painting first.″
They entered the church and looked around. Dee stepped out of her sandals and squirmed her hot feet on the cold stone floor. At the other end of the nave, a robed priest was performing a solitary ceremony. Dee and Mike waited silently for him to finish.
Eventually he approached them, a welcoming smile on his broad peasant′s face.
Dee murmured: ″I wonder if you can help us, Father.″
When he got close, they realized he was not as young as his boyishly short haircut made him seem from a distance. ″I hope so,″ he said. He spoke at normal volume, but his voice boomed in the still emptiness of the church. ″I suspect it is secular help you want, much as I might wish it otherwise. Am I right?″
Dee nodded.
ʺThen let us step outside.″ He took their elbows, one in each hand, and pushed them gently through the door. Outside, he glanced up into the sky. ʺThank God for wonderful sunshine,″ he said. ″Although you should be careful, my dear, with your complexion. What can I do for you?″
″We′re trying to trace a man,″ Dee began. ″His name was Danielli. He was a rabbi, from Livorno, and we think he moved to Poglio in about 1920. He was ill, and not young, so he probably died soon after.″
The priest frowned and shook his head. ″I have never heard the name. It was certainly before my time—I wasn′t born in 1920. And if he was Jewish, I don′t suppose the Church buried him, so we will have no records.″
″You have never even heard him talked about?″
″No. And there is certainly no Danielli family in Poglio. However, others in the village have longer memories than mine. And no one can hide in such a small place.″ He looked at them hesitantly for a moment, as if making up his mind about something. ″Who told you he came here?″
″Another rabbi—in Livorno.ʺ Dee realized the priest was desperately curious to know why they were interested in the man.
He hesitated again, then asked: ″Are you related to him?″
″No.″ Dee looked at Mike, who gave a quick nod. ʺWeʹre actually trying to trace a picture which we think he had.″
″Ah.″ The priest was satisfied. ″Well, Poglio is an unlikely place to find a masterpiece; but I wish you well.″ He shook their hands, then turned back into his church.
The couple walked back toward the village. ″A nice man,″ Dee said lazily.
ʺAnd a nice church. Dee, shall we get married in a church?″
She stopped and turned to look at him. ″Married?″
ʺDonʹt you want to marry me?″
″You only just invited me—but I think you made a very good choice.″
He laughed, and shrugged his shoulders in embarrassment. ″It just kind of slipped out,″ he said.
Dee kissed him affectionately. ″There was a certain boyish charm about it,″ she said.
″Well, since I seem to have asked you ...″
ʺMike, if it′s anyone, it′s you. But I don′t know whether I want to marry anyone at all.″
″There′s a certain girlish charm about that,″ he said. ″One all.″
She took his hand and they walked on. ″Why don′t you ask for something a bit less ambitious?″
″Such as?ʺ
″Ask me to live with you for a couple of years to see how it works out.″
″So you can have your evil way with me, then leave me without any visible means of support?″
ʺYes.ʺ
This time he stopped her. ″Dee, we always turn everything into a joke. It′s our way of keeping our relationship in an emotionally low key. That′s why we suddenly start talking about our future together at a crazy time like this. But I love you, and I want you to live with me.″
ʺItʹs all because of my picture, isn′t it?″ She smiled.
″C′mon.″
Her face became very serious. She said quietly: ″Yes, Mike, I′d like to live with you.″
He wound his long arms around her and kissed her mouth, slowly this time. A village woman walked by and averted her face from the scandal. Eventually Dee whispered: ″We could get arrested for this.″
They walked even more slowly, his arm around her shoulders and hers about his waist. Dee said: ″Where shall we live?″
Mike looked startled. ″What′s wrong with South Street?″
″It′s a scruffy bachelor pad, that′s what.ʺ
″Nuts. Itʹs big, it′s right in the center of Mayfair.″
She smiled. ″I knew you hadn′t thought much about it. Mike, I want to set up home with you, not just move into your place.″
″Mmm.″ He looked thoughtful.
ʺThe apartment is knee-deep in rubbish, it needs decorating, and the kitchen is pokey. The furniture is all odds and sods—ʺ
″So what would you like? A three-bedroom semi in Fulham? A town house in Ealing? A mansion in Surrey?″
″Somewhere light and spacious, with a view of a park, but near the center.″
″I have a feeling you′ve got somewhere in mind.″
ʺRegentʹs Park.″
Mike laughed. ″Hell, how long have you been planning this?″
ʺDidnʹt you know I was a gold-digger?ʺ She smiled up into his eyes, and he bent his head to kiss her again.
″You shall have it,ʺ he said. ʺA new place—you can get it decorated and furnished when we get back to town—ʺ
ʺSlow down! We don′t know if there′ll be a flat vacant there.″
ʺWeʹll get one.″
They stopped beside the car, and leaned against the hot paintwork. Dee turned her face up to the sun. ″How long ago did you decide ... about this?″
″I don′t think I decided at all. It just gradually grew in my mind—the idea of spending my life with you. By the time I noticed, I was already too far gone to alter it.″
ʺFunny.ʺ
ʺWhy?ʺ
″It was just the reverse with me.″
″When did you decide?″
″When I saw your car outside the hotel at Livorno.