Summer on the Italian Lakes

by Lucy Coleman

  ‘Great! Let me know Arran’s reaction on Thursday. Happy editing.’

  As I put the phone down I wonder if Carrie is ticking off two items on her action list. Sort Arran’s manuscript and get Brie back out there. I can almost hear the sound of the electronic ticks filling the boxes. Maybe she wasn’t trying to push us together and would be horrified to discover the awakenings of attraction stirring in the pit of my stomach. In my little daydream the man who is the one is never quite in the scene; he’s in the shadows but he is there and that’s enough to reassure me it will happen. I seriously doubt when it’s time for the reveal it will be Arran’s face staring back at me though.

  *

  I’m almost ready to head downstairs when I hear the scrunch of tyres pulling into the parking area. I look out and watch Rick, Silvia, Yvonne and Tom making their way along the path towards the taxi. They’re all very jolly and I can hear peals of laughter. It seems there’s a little dinner party excursion going on and I’m grateful Arran didn’t make a thing of asking me if I wanted to be included. I wonder what Will and Kris are doing tonight? That could mean a cosy dinner for four at La Pergola. I’ll be able to excuse myself as soon as we’ve eaten so I can come back and squeeze in another couple of hours work tonight.

  I shower, wash and blow dry my hair, and apply a little light make-up, before slipping into a simple A-line dress in a pale blue floral print. I still don’t have that sun kissed look but then I haven’t really spent much time outside.

  When I walk out onto the terrace Arran is sitting on his own with a highball glass next to him, reading his Kindle.

  ‘Good evening. We’re down to four this evening, then. Where are Kris and Will?’

  He looks up, easing off his sunglasses to look at me.

  ‘You look remarkably fresh and recovered. You just missed them; they decided to walk down to La Tagliata. I didn’t make a commitment, so they aren’t expecting us to join them. I hope that was alright? I… um… indicated that you had a bit of a headache. I had a vested interest in freeing up your time.’

  ‘I think it’s rather nice that the group are happy to do different things. It was hard work last night with everyone there. You were deep in conversation with Rick and I discovered that trying to ensure no one is left out is a real juggling act. With the background music adding another layer of noise to the general hubbub of conversations going on, I was quite stressed by the end of it.’

  A slight grin creeps over his face. ‘I know.’

  I ignore the inference. ‘Okay. So, what’s the plan? I’ve allocated two hours for dinner and then I’m back to working on the manuscript. I promised Carrie I’d go through it with you on Thursday. I think she’s counting on you to turn it around quickly.’

  He nods, his expression now one of seriousness.

  ‘Great. That works for me. I guess we’d better get off then, I’ll give Antonio a call as we walk so he can get a table ready for us.’

  I turn and step back inside as Arran locks the patio doors and we head through the hallway and into the rear garden. He nestles his phone between his chin and his shoulder as he locks the door.

  ‘Do the others have a key?’ I mouth, and he nods his head.

  ‘Antonio, I’m heading up with Brie and hoping you can find us a table for two. Is that a problem?’

  His face is animated as he listens to Antonio, whose answer seems rather long, but I can see it’s fine.

  ‘Thank you, my friend. Much appreciated.’

  As Arran slips his phone into his trouser pocket he looks across at me.

  ‘He said he’d find us a romantic corner. I didn’t disillusion him; Italians are so hot blooded. Have any of your books been translated into Italian?’

  I nod. ‘Yes, six of them so far.’

  ‘Ah, that accounts for it then. I think you might have a fan there.’

  As we head out through the gates and down the hill, we walk in double file. There’s no path but you can hear vehicles approaching in the distance because the traffic is light. It feels good to be out in the air after a day inside. There are a lot of overhanging trees that help to diffuse the sun but there’s no breeze at all tonight and I think longingly of the pool.

  Everywhere I look there are explosions of colour; climbers taking over walls, shrubs and even trees. Then at the lower level, despite the lack of rainfall and the constant heat there is a profusion of flower heads. Pinks, blues, yellows, deep purple… a wild array with a backdrop of luscious greenery. The hillside looks like a never ending garden, amongst which there nestles an unknown number of homes and a handful of restaurants. Few can be seen, as they are so well hidden, but the clues lie in people’s attempts to tame an area of garden or plant an orchard of fruit bearing trees. Where there’s a slight clearing you can usually cast your eye around and spot a path, or even simply a gate.

  ‘Are you looking forward to your session on Tuesday?’

  Arran breaks our companionable silence as we approach La Pergola. He holds the door open for me to enter.

  ‘I’m nervous. But I am looking forward to our trip out in the afternoon.’

  ‘Buonasera!’ Antonio immediately steps forward to greet us, bowing his head in acknowledgement and vigorously shaking hands.

  ‘Come. I have a quiet table on the balcony. We are busy tonight but here you will be away from the music, yes?’ Antonio talks over his shoulder as he leads the way.

  We follow him down the long gangway in the centre of the restaurant, which is buzzing tonight, with most tables already taken; at the rear there is a single glass door leading out onto a wooden balcony. There are only four tables out here and we are the first to be seated. Antonio pulls out a chair for me then produces a lighter from his pocket, even though it’s still a little bright to warrant a candle.

  ‘As the restaurant is so busy maybe we should go with today’s special? What do you think, Brie?’

  Arran looks at me for approval and I nod my head. ‘Great idea.’

  ‘I bring you a nice antipasti platter for two, then maybe orecchiette with chicken meatballs, yes? Is best dish in the house.’

  Both Arran and I smile up at Antonio. There’s little point in trying to explain that pasta and I don’t sit well together, and I don’t want to make a fuss.

  ‘Sounds wonderful, thank you,’ Arran confirms and suddenly we’re alone together on the balcony.

  Our eyes meet and it’s obvious we are both thinking about this morning in Arran’s bedroom.

  What was rather hazy earlier on is a little clearer this evening and I recall us both laughing as we collapsed on top of the bed. I remember saying, ‘I just need to sleep. I won’t stay long.’ And then it was morning.

  ‘Look, I know it’s awkward and I can assure you I don’t make a habit of over indulging. You are a guest at the villa and a peer doing me a big favour. I don’t know what exactly happened if I’m honest, but I’m a gentleman first and foremost, I can assure you of that. I had no intention of taking advantage of you given the state we were in.’ He sounds somewhat regretful.

  ‘Um… the same goes for me, too.’ I agree.

  And I was sitting here thinking how romantic it would be if Arran said how lovely I was looking tonight. He’s spoilt the moment now by spouting an awkward apology.

  ‘We can’t undo what’s done, so I think maybe it’s best to forget it, don’t you?’ I add.

  He looks both surprised and relieved. ‘That’s very good of you to be so understanding, Brie. My reputation—’

  ‘Is intact. I don’t think either of us is very proud of how we conducted ourselves last night. We’re clearly both under pressure and I know it’s been a while since I was able to relax and unwind. Tonight I’m on the water though, as I have a manuscript to work on.’

  His eyes haven’t left my face and I’m surprised because suddenly he looks a little disappointed. Oh no! Is he offended now, thinking that was some sort of rejection?

  ‘Good, um, yes, well… I’m glad we cleare
d the air. So, how are the revisions going?’ His tone is edgy.

  ‘As I said, Cassie would like me to be in a position to go through them with you on Thursday. It’s achievable if I can work on it solidly tomorrow and then grab a couple of hours in between my session and the trips to fine tune the changes. I realise that will mean you’ve virtually coped with the group alone for two straight days, but it’s the only way around it.’

  He pours out two glasses of water, holding one out to me with a wry smile on his face.

  ‘I think we can toast to that! It’s a small price to pay. I really do appreciate what you’re doing, Brie.’

  Well, he’s done with the awkwardness, so he can’t have been too disappointed, can he? We chink glasses. ‘Better save the thanks until you’ve read my suggestions.’

  ‘I think I’m going to be wowed. I saw that you were crying as you were writing when I popped by to see you this morning.’

  I nod, unable to pretend that wasn’t the case because it was obvious with tissues all over the bed. Goodness knows what state my eyes were in.

  ‘It’s a powerful story, Arran.’

  This time when our eyes connect I see something else there; a hint of sadness that touches my heart.

  ‘If you’d met them, you’d understand just how powerful. Ah, here comes Antonio. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. What a day it’s been.’

  Amen to that.

  16

  Crying a River

  I don’t hang around after breakfast. I’m eager to set myself up on the balcony again so that I won’t be in Elisabetta’s way when she comes in to clean. Besides, it’s lovely and cool here in the shade and there’s a slight breeze going, which is rather refreshing. And I need the air. My stomach is angry with me this morning and it looks like I’ve swallowed a football. I chide myself that this is ridiculous and I’m going to have to explain to Arran that there are some foods I need to avoid.

  However, I made a lot of progress last night as most of the chapters I read through were about the harrowing reality of war. This morning I keep looking at the photo of Arthur and Rose, drawing inspiration from it to add the emotion to those rather sterile love scenes. What is rather frustrating for me is that Arran has written very little about what happened to Rose when she was alone, because the story follows Arthur for the most part. It’s the one thing that stands out as a major flaw in the storyline.

  I decide I simply can’t ignore this gut feeling that the reader wants to know more but it’s not something I can write. This is, after all, based on a true story. So, instead, I draft out some suggested text for an additional chapter that Arran will have to flesh out by doing a little research. It will give at least a little insight as to what life was like in the UK for Rose. She would have been representational of so many women missing the love of their lives and contending with wartime conditions. She is about to discover that in the few months they have been apart Arthur has changed; he went away a boy and came back a man, already laden with memories that will haunt him forever.

  With fierce determination she wraps him in her love as she tries to sooth his troubled soul. He feels guilt for stepping away, for leaving his comrades, as if he’s shirking his responsibilities. Somehow, she instinctively understands that she must ground him in the present as he needs a break from the constant horrors of war. I want Arran’s readers to be touched by that reality, too. I’m not unhappy with where I’m directing him to go and although I think it will challenge him a little, I hope he will understand where I’m coming from.

  ‘Mi scusi. Is okay to clean?’ Elisabetta steps out onto the balcony hesitantly. I hadn’t even heard her enter. ‘I knocked, no answer.’

  ‘Yes, that’s fine. You go ahead.’

  ‘I make no noise.’ She smiles at me warmly.

  ‘You’re very kind but I don’t hear anything when I’m working.’ I shrug my shoulders and she laughs.

  ‘Is like Mr Jamieson. He work hard; nice man.’

  He is a nice man, she’s right. ‘Very talented,’ I add.

  ‘Sad, he alone now. Lonely is terrible.’

  She turns and begins to mop the floor just as my stomach gurgles so loudly it stops her mid-stroke and she looks at me aghast.

  ‘Sorry,’ I apologise, ‘and I totally agree.’ I can feel my face beginning to heat up as the trapped gas begins to rumble again.

  Loneliness is terrible and isolating. Been there, done that and it’s soul destroying. As I think about Arran I have a sudden flashback. Having seen a lot more of him than I bargained for, he didn’t disappoint, and I can’t stop myself from literally bursting out laughing. Fortunately, Elisabetta is in the bathroom now and doesn’t appear to have heard me laughing out loud. Or, thankfully, the loud succession of burps I can’t control, but afterwards my stomach begins to settle nicely.

  Of course, I long to have a caring and loving man in my life; to meet someone who doesn’t just want to jump into bed, thinking five minutes of foreplay is a romantic gesture! But if I’m being honest with myself it’s been too long, and I miss that intimacy, too. It would be nice to fall asleep in the arms of a man again, after a night of lovemaking. Just to feel wanted, desired again, would be a confidence boost and tell me I haven’t totally lost the ability to inspire someone. Maybe, before too long, I will meet the man of my dreams, a person who can live up to my hopes and expectations. But the longer I’m forced to wait, the more I’m beginning to think that either he doesn’t exist, or maybe I should lower my standards. Maybe the Jude Law in my head is as fictional as my heroes. And that thought is rather depressing, to say the least.

  I hate to admit it to myself but physically I find Arran very, very appealing. Suddenly the flashback I’m getting now isn’t quite so funny. Did we end up kissing as we staggered upstairs, or is this manuscript and my imagination playing tricks on me? I close my eyes and focus on remembering but nothing more comes. Okay, you’re safe. Imagination is a wonderful, but scary thing.

  My phone kicks into life and makes me jump as it starts to skitter across the table.

  ‘Hey, how are you?’ It’s Mel.

  ‘I’m good. Well, I’m in heaven, actually. Ross is not only a lovely guy but he’s fascinating, witty, kind and an IT genius.’

  I sit back in my chair with a big grin on my face.

  ‘He’s impressed you, then,’ I can’t really hide the amusement in my tone.

  ‘We do spend a lot of time talking shop, which I kind of guess would put a lot of women off. But not me, I love that we share the same interest. After seeing each other two nights on the trot we’re going for the hat trick tonight.’

  I smirk to myself. ‘I had no idea Internet dating websites did such a great job of matching people.’

  The silence that ensues is a little awkward.

  ‘He’s special, Brie. Besides, it’s a more adult way of discovering someone new, that’s all. You know quite a bit about each other before you meet for the first time and that’s actually quite helpful.’

  I’m astonished, not least because it sounds a little boring, I suppose. But then Mel has been very cautious since her break-up, even when it comes to considering a first date. I think she’s only gone on two that I can remember, having turned down rather a lot of offers. It’s her chatty nature and bubbly personality that does it but she’s still very fragile. So, I suppose this approach had an element of safety to it. After all, if you go through the whole process of getting registered and looking at potential matches you are demonstrating a serious interest in finding a Mr Right.

  ‘I thought you were worried he was too good to be true?’

  She sighs. ‘Yes, because I can’t find any flaws. He’s a softie and he made a home for two rescue cats named Bowie and Hendrix. They adore him, and you know what cats are like – they give love in return for love received. This morning I arrived in work to find my desk covered in flowers and a note saying he’s counting down the hours until tonight. Seriously, my heart thuds in my chest when
ever I think of him.’

  I gulp. Mel sounds besotted and while that’s amazing, it’s a little worrying too. Every high has a corresponding low; let’s hope the only low going on here will be the fact that it all feels a little… too easy. But he seems to be making up for that with romantic gestures, so I guess that says a lot about him. What is heartening, is that they are both going into this with their eyes wide open.

  ‘I’ve dreamt of someone like Ross coming into my life for so long and now I have to keep pinching myself to check it’s for real.’

  ‘I’m thrilled for you, Mel, but please take it slowly. Take time to savour the getting to know each other phase, because new love is the best feeling in the world. Just don’t rush headlong into it until that adrenaline high settles down. I’m sure he’s the genuine article, but sometimes feelings dip after they soar. You know the score and it’s still early days for you.’

  I don’t want to add negative words about past hurts, or future disappointments, or worse – having her heart broken if she steams into this new relationship with too much optimism. Somehow it feels all wrong to find someone from a list matched by a computer programme. If fate wanted your paths to cross, then wouldn’t you just find yourself in the right place, at the right time? Justin trampled all over her heart and left her in pieces: I don’t think she could go through that again.

  ‘Trust me, Brie, I know what I’m doing. That’s why we’re taking it one step at a time. We talk openly and honestly about everything. In fact, I almost feel that I know more about Ross than I ever knew about Justin. Ross is really in touch with his emotions and says he isn’t prepared to settle for anything less than total commitment when it comes to settling down. Anyway, enough about me. How is Lake Garda?’

  I glance at the laptop screen in front of me. It seems love really is all around me, at the moment.

  ‘Wonderful, although today I’m going to be doing a lot of crying, I think.’

  ‘Whaaat?’

  ‘Sorry, I was just thinking out loud. The pressure is on to boost the emotional content in the love scenes in Arran’s manuscript, which is set during the Second World War. It’s a heart-breaking story, even though it has a happy ending. I’ve been sobbing my heart out already. Arthur has just been given five days’ leave to get married. Already the horrors he’s witnessed have changed him. Can you imagine what that must have been like for his sweetheart, Rose?’