‘Don’t look too closely,’ he said. ‘I think Nonno is looking forward to showing them to you himself and he’ll enjoy seeing the reaction of a fellow art-lover.’ He set his case down in the space under the stairs and shepherded Mariana into a living room.
‘Nonno, we have a guest,’ he said. ‘Mariana Thackeray is here to meet you.’
An elderly man, his face sallow and his cheeks thin, sat in one of the winged armchairs; although the day was warm, he had a blanket over his knees.
‘Please, don’t get up,’ Mariana said, and hurried over to him. ‘Piacere di conoscerla, Signor Moretti.’
‘Buongiorno, Signorina Thackeray,’ he said. ‘I have looked forward to meeting you. I love your television show.’ He coughed. ‘Mi dispiace. Lucia is getting coffee, yes?’
‘No, because I am taking you out to lunch, Nonno.’ Angelo hugged the old man warmly and spoke in rapid Italian.
‘Manners, Angelo. We speak English with our guest,’ Leo admonished. ‘I may call you Mariana?’ he asked, turning to her.
‘Of course,’ she said.
‘And I am Leo. Thank you for coming all this way to see my paintings.’
‘It’s my pleasure.’
‘Your show has just started here in Italy,’ he said. ‘And you find out the truth about the paintings.’
‘I do,’ she said. ‘Though I should warn you it’s not always good news. We have had some that haven’t been accepted by the experts.’
‘But if anyone can prove my painting...’ He coughed again.
He had lung cancer, Mariana remembered. ‘Can I get anything for you?’ she asked. ‘A glass of water or something?’
‘No, no, child. Thank you. But I would like to show you my Girl.’
The unsigned painting, she guessed. The one he hoped was a Carulli.
‘Come with me,’ he said.
‘Nonno, let me help,’ Angelo said, supporting his grandfather as Leo got to his feet.
Angelo Beresford might be a little bit on the bossy side and run everything to his personal timescale, Mariana thought, but he was patient and kind with his grandfather, and that spoke volumes about his character.
Leo beckoned to her to follow him. ‘I have collected art for many years,’ he said. ‘And this is the first painting I bought, fifty years ago.’ He stopped in front of a landscape.
Mariana looked and looked again, and all the hairs stood up on her arms. ‘I’ve seen the preliminary sketches for this,’ she said. ‘Carulli. Everyone thought the painting itself was lost. I’m a bit shocked to actually see it.’
‘I spent my youth travelling in Carulli’s footsteps, and I bought every painting and every sketch I could find,’ Leo said.
Mariana walked slowly along the hallway, drinking in the paintings. ‘This is...’ She shook her head, words failing her. ‘Amazing,’ she finished softly.
‘Come and see my Girl, Mariana. The valuers say we can only say it is attributed to him, but I know it is by him.’
Mariana stared at the painting above the fireplace, and her jaw dropped. ‘Oh, my God,’ she whispered. ‘It’s...’ Tears rose in her eyes at the sheer beauty of the large canvas in front of her. ‘The photograph Angelo showed me doesn’t begin to do it justice.’
‘See. I told you she understands art,’ Leo said to Angelo.
‘That’s why I asked her to come here,’ Angelo said with a smile.
‘It’s the most beautiful painting I’ve ever seen in my life,’ Mariana said.
It was very simple: a farmhouse in front of a field of corn that was scattered with poppies, and a woman with long dark hair and wearing a white dress was leaning out of the window.
‘The Girl in the Window,’ Leo said. ‘Look at the light. The sky. The sunlight on the corn.’
‘Her eyes. Her face.’ She blinked back the tears. ‘Sorry. It’s just...’
‘Don’t apologise. She made me cry when I first saw her,’ Leo said.
‘Do you have the paperwork to go with this?’
‘Some,’ Leo said.
‘Not enough to make the experts happy,’ Angelo added.