Page 37 of Italy and Forever

She was pleased with herself when he shifted uncomfortably. ‘Gifts aren’t really my strong point.’

‘Your ex-girlfriend didn’t mind?’

When his gaze flickered warily to her, she snapped her mouth shut. Oops, she wasn’t supposed to know about that.

‘Sorry, Kira mentioned an ex.’

‘It was a long time ago,’ he mumbled. ‘If she was disappointed I didn’t give her gifts, she never told me.’

‘You didn’t give her anything?’

He opened his mouth, fidgeting again. ‘Um, turn left up ahead.’

Ginny had to concentrate for a few minutes to coax the Fiat around a hairpin curve and accelerate up the steep road, but soon they were puttering through a fairy-tale landscape of chalet-style houses with wooden gables, spreading fruit trees in their seasonal finery and neon-green meadows.

‘Wow, we’re really in the middle of nowhere,’ she commented, marvelling at the narrow strip of bitumen they were driving on and that they were only ten minutes from the autobahn.

‘Look!’ Rhys gestured ahead and Ginny peered out to catch a glimpse of distant jagged peaks, sheer and grey and worn into dramatic, irregular shapes by time and the elements. ‘The Geisler peaks, I think.’

‘If we can see them from the church, we’ll have to get them in the background of the photos.’

‘I’ll look for a good location when we get there. It’s just up ahead, through those trees.’

After driving through a little wood, passing neat piles of logs, they emerged on the other side to see a grey chapel with rugged stonework and a thick spire. Ginny had to brake suddenly.

She wasn’t sure where to park, so she pulled in by the water trough, where another little Fiat was already stopped. When she climbed out of the car, the air was cool and clear and the view along the valley, the ridges of forest and the peaks in the distance made her pause to take it all in for a moment. Sophie would be living here, for the first few months of the baby’s life anyway. To think she’d fallen in love with Andreas before she’d ever seen where he came from.

‘Hello! Lovely to see you again, Ginny.’

She turned to find Petra stepping out of the other car. Ginny shook Andreas’s mother’s hand warmly. ‘Thanks for meeting us here. Andreas did all the administrative arrangements, so I haven’t had any contact with the priest.’

‘You mean I made the arrangements, but yes, come and meet Wolfgang. He’s opened up for you.’

Ginny followed Petra around the side of the church while Rhys dawdled behind, framing imaginary photos, she imagined.

‘I didn’t know about you and Rhys,’ Petra said brightly. ‘It’s a miracle what you and the ladies at I Do have managed with the stubborn souls at Great Heart.’ Her tone was light with amusement.

‘Oh, Rhys and I aren’t together,’ Ginny insisted, keeping her voice low in the hope that he wouldn’t hear the conversation. ‘He came along to test out camera settings.’

‘Oops, I’m sorry,’ Petra said. ‘After last night – the waltz – I assumed.’

‘No,’ Ginny said awkwardly. ‘He just took pity on me. I’m the only single woman at this wedding.’

‘It’s wise to be choosy, Ginny,’ Petra said kindly. ‘You’ve got lots of time.’

Ginny swallowed a rueful response and arranged a smile on her face when an old man emerged through the doors to greet them.

The priest had the same cracks and rough-hewn features as the tiny church, a twinkle in his eye and a firm handshake. He showed them into the simple building with pride, pointing out the sign declaring that the structure had been built in the year 1303. Inside, the walls were whitewashed between the pink gothic rib vaults, except for incomplete pieces of a colourful fresco. A man on a white horse with a red cross on his shield brandished his lance, smiting an awkward-looking yellow dragon that had something of the dog about it.

‘The altar is from the year 1500,’ Petra said, translating for the tall priest. Intricate and gilded, the piece looked as though it belonged in a museum. When Ginny approached to study it, she couldn’t believe at first it was made of wood, the filigree detail was so finely carved. The figures of Mary and Jesus and other saints were painted a sallow skin colour, looking out of ancient eyes on a world the artist wouldn’t recognise.

‘Our little church has a long history,’ Wolfgang said, his words clipped and clear, although thickly accented.

Rhys lifted his camera and fiddled with the settings, while Ginny took notes on her tablet about the placement of the decorations, the bouquets that Gabri would create for the ends of the pews. Even her trainers were loud on the old flagstones. The low heels she usually wore in professional situations would have sounded like tap shoes.

‘I brought this for you, from the church records,’ Wolfgang said, drawing Ginny’s attention from the pink marble pulpit on one side. The priest held out an old album to Petra, open to a slightly yellowed photo that was instantly recognisable as the exterior of this church.

‘Oh!’ Petra exclaimed, leaning down to look. ‘Look at us. We were never so young and foolish when we got married.’